[{"id":11613567,"name":"It's Mine","trackName":"It's Mine","artistName":"Mobb Deep","albumName":"It's Mine","duration":254.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah, yeah (hahahaha)\nUh-huh, yeah-yeah (hahahaha)\nHuh, yo, you know it (hahahaha)\nInfamous ninety-nine (infamous ninety-nine)\n(Hahahaha)\nInfamous two thousand\nAin't nuttin' but thugs over here, baby\n(Ahahahaha)\nYo (hahahaha)\n\nStraight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\nLike the terminal ill takin' they last breath\nRead your last rites, God, forgive me\nFor the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\nKill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\nReadin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\nKeep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\nHearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\nSleep with half closed eyelids\n\nSome say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\nGo easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\nNiggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\nScopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District\nJeweler with they hand on the biscuit\nDo you, wanna get caught lifted\nOr sober, so you can react quick?\nBlow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\nOn my thousand dollar mattress\nIt's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\nA moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cause we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nI got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\nIf it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (very-very)\nThe streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\nSo when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\nKeep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\nBeen through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\nApply street rules to the office, high performance\nRap author, made millions off of\n\nMelodic, hypnotic productions\nThat'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (you feel me? You feel me?)\nYou feel me? I'll write a graphic page\nEscort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\nWe the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (don't get no realer than this)\nIt's more real than any words I can muster\nPull the black Cadillac trucks up (what?)\nHop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cause we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nSilk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\nHalle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\nSilk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\nAnd I'll front like my doo-doo don't stink\nInstinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\nHazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\nEverybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\nJust to think, that was yesterday's action\n'Cause today goes either way, we came a long way\n\nFrom hallway steps and hand-me-down shit\nFuck my foes, I seen the other side, Nextel cell roam\nCall the chopper phone, heliport in my home\nQuincy Jones posters, wake up, guns\nUnder my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\nShit is better than a novel, autobiographic\nSpit it on tracks, it becomes classic\nStart some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n\nNastradamus, last one to blast one when the NARC's come\nKnow how to leave anything in thirty seconds\nWhen you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\nI'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\nYour flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\nCremate your flesh to ashes, you don't need\nA suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cause we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nThug life is mine\nThug life is mine\nUh, thug life is mine\nIll Will\nNeed to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\n\nWe don't give a fuck\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: It's Mine\n artist: Mobb Deep\n album: It's Mine\n duration_ms: 254000\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n Yeah, yeah (hahahaha)\n Uh-huh, yeah-yeah (hahahaha)\n Huh, yo, you know it (hahahaha)\n Infamous ninety-nine (infamous ninety-nine)\n (Hahahaha)\n Infamous two thousand\n Ain't nuttin' but thugs over here, baby\n (Ahahahaha)\n Yo (hahahaha)\n\n Straight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\n Like the terminal ill takin' they last breath\n Read your last rites, God, forgive me\n For the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\n Kill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\n Readin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\n Keep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\n Hearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\n Sleep with half closed eyelids\n\n Some say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\n Go easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\n Niggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\n Scopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District\n Jeweler with they hand on the biscuit\n Do you, wanna get caught lifted\n Or sober, so you can react quick?\n Blow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\n On my thousand dollar mattress\n It's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\n A moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n I got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\n If it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (very-very)\n The streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\n So when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\n Keep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\n Been through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\n Apply street rules to the office, high performance\n Rap author, made millions off of\n\n Melodic, hypnotic productions\n That'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (you feel me? You feel me?)\n You feel me? I'll write a graphic page\n Escort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\n We the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (don't get no realer than this)\n It's more real than any words I can muster\n Pull the black Cadillac trucks up (what?)\n Hop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n Silk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\n Halle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\n Silk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\n And I'll front like my doo-doo don't stink\n Instinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\n Hazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\n Everybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\n Just to think, that was yesterday's action\n 'Cause today goes either way, we came a long way\n\n From hallway steps and hand-me-down shit\n Fuck my foes, I seen the other side, Nextel cell roam\n Call the chopper phone, heliport in my home\n Quincy Jones posters, wake up, guns\n Under my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\n Shit is better than a novel, autobiographic\n Spit it on tracks, it becomes classic\n Start some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n\n Nastradamus, last one to blast one when the NARC's come\n Know how to leave anything in thirty seconds\n When you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\n I'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\n Your flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\n Cremate your flesh to ashes, you don't need\n A suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n Thug life is mine\n Thug life is mine\n Uh, thug life is mine\n Ill Will\n Need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n\n We don't give a fuck\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n"},{"id":16047102,"name":"It's Mine (dirty version)","trackName":"It's Mine (dirty version)","artistName":"Mobb Deep","albumName":"It's Mine","duration":263.946542,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Shit\nYeah, yeah, yeah, yeah\nYo, you know it\nInfamous ninety nine\nInfamous two thousand\nAin't nuttin but thugs over here baby\nYo\n\nStraight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\nLike the terminal ill takin' they last breath\nRead your last rites, God forgive me\nFor the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\nKill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\nReadin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\nKeep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\nHearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\nSleep with half closed eyelids\nSome say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\nGo easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\nNiggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\nScopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District Jeweller\nWith they hand on the biscuit\nDo ya, wanna get caught lifted, or sober, so you can react quick?\nBlow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\nOn my thousand dollar mattress\nIt's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\nA moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug, life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cuz we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nI got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\nIf it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (Very-very)\nThe streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\nSo when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\nKeep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\nBeen through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\nApply street rules to the office, high performance\nRap author, made millions off of\nMelodic, hypnotic productions\nThat'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (You feel me? You feel me?)\nYou feel me? I'll write a graphic page\nEscort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\nWe the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (Don't get no realer than this)\nIt's more real than any words I can muster\nPull the black Cadillac trucks up (What?)\nHop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug, life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cuz we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nSilk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\nHalle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\nSilk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\nAnd I'll front like my doo doo don't stink\nInstinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\nHazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\nEverybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\nJust to think, that was yesterday's action\n'Cuz today goes either way, we came a long way\nFrom hallway steps and hand me down shit\nFuck my foes, I seen the other side, NexTel cell roam\nCall the chopper phone, heliport in my home, Quincy Jones posters\nWake up, guns under my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\nShit is better than a novel, autobiographic\nSpit it on tracks, it becomes classic\nStart some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\nNastradamus, last one to blast when the NARC's come\nKnow how to leave anythin' in thirty seconds\nWhen you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\nI'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\nYour flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\nCremate your flesh to ashes\nYou don't need a suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug, life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cuz we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nThug life is mine\nThug life is mine\nThug life is mine\nIll Will\nYou need to give it up, we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want, we don't give a fuck\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up, we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want, thug life is mine","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.01] Shit\n[00:05.68] Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah\n[00:10.90] Yo, you know it\n[00:12.55] Infamous ninety nine\n[00:15.25] Infamous two thousand\n[00:16.85] Ain't nuttin but thugs over here baby\n[00:21.15] Yo\n[00:23.28] Straight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\n[00:26.42] Like the terminal ill takin' they last breath\n[00:28.82] Read your last rites, God forgive me\n[00:30.73] For the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\n[00:33.28] Kill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\n[00:35.33] Readin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\n[00:37.90] Keep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\n[00:40.32] Hearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\n[00:43.13] Sleep with half closed eyelids\n[00:44.88] Some say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\n[00:47.57] Go easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\n[00:49.95] Niggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\n[00:52.49] Scopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District Jeweller\n[00:55.83] With they hand on the biscuit\n[00:57.57] Do ya, wanna get caught lifted, or sober, so you can react quick?\n[01:01.66] Blow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\n[01:04.86] On my thousand dollar mattress\n[01:06.43] It's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\n[01:09.05] A moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n[01:12.44] Y'all need to give it up\n[01:15.10] We don't give a fuck\n[01:17.56] What y'all niggas want\n[01:19.47] Thug, life is mine\n[01:21.81] Y'all need to give it up\n[01:24.28] 'Cuz we don't give a fuck\n[01:26.85] What y'all niggas want\n[01:28.61] Thug life is mine\n[01:30.23] I got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\n[01:32.61] If it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (Very-very)\n[01:35.07] The streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\n[01:38.09] So when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\n[01:40.19] Keep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\n[01:41.89] Been through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\n[01:44.72] Apply street rules to the office, high performance\n[01:47.43] Rap author, made millions off of\n[01:49.58] Melodic, hypnotic productions\n[01:51.75] That'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (You feel me? You feel me?)\n[01:54.44] You feel me? I'll write a graphic page\n[01:56.30] Escort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\n[01:58.99] We the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (Don't get no realer than this)\n[02:01.82] It's more real than any words I can muster\n[02:04.08] Pull the black Cadillac trucks up (What?)\n[02:05.85] Hop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n[02:09.32] Y'all need to give it up\n[02:12.31] We don't give a fuck\n[02:14.62] What y'all niggas want\n[02:16.29] Thug, life is mine\n[02:18.98] Y'all need to give it up\n[02:21.35] 'Cuz we don't give a fuck\n[02:24.04] What y'all niggas want\n[02:25.92] Thug life is mine\n[02:27.05] Silk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\n[02:29.20] Halle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\n[02:32.38] Silk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\n[02:35.27] And I'll front like my doo doo don't stink\n[02:37.38] Instinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\n[02:40.25] Hazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\n[02:42.08] Everybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\n[02:45.02] Just to think, that was yesterday's action\n[02:46.65] 'Cuz today goes either way, we came a long way\n[02:49.26] From hallway steps and hand me down shit\n[02:51.11] Fuck my foes, I seen the other side, NexTel cell roam\n[02:54.05] Call the chopper phone, heliport in my home, Quincy Jones posters\n[02:57.65] Wake up, guns under my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\n[03:01.23] Shit is better than a novel, autobiographic\n[03:03.38] Spit it on tracks, it becomes classic\n[03:05.54] Start some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n[03:08.29] Nastradamus, last one to blast when the NARC's come\n[03:10.92] Know how to leave anythin' in thirty seconds\n[03:13.04] When you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\n[03:15.38] I'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\n[03:17.85] Your flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\n[03:20.43] Cremate your flesh to ashes\n[03:21.93] You don't need a suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n[03:25.78] Y'all need to give it up\n[03:28.65] We don't give a fuck\n[03:30.75] What y'all niggas want\n[03:32.67] Thug, life is mine\n[03:35.52] Y'all need to give it up\n[03:37.91] 'Cuz we don't give a fuck\n[03:40.61] What y'all niggas want\n[03:42.24] Thug life is mine\n[03:46.96] Thug life is mine\n[03:51.82] Thug life is mine\n[03:56.92] Thug life is mine\n[03:59.93] Ill Will\n[04:01.81] You need to give it up, we don't give a fuck\n[04:06.87] What y'all niggas want, we don't give a fuck\n[04:10.92] Thug life is mine\n[04:13.83] Y'all need to give it up, we don't give a fuck\n[04:18.83] What y'all niggas want, thug life is mine\n[04:22.59] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: It's Mine (dirty version)\n artist: Mobb Deep\n album: It's Mine\n duration_ms: 263947\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Shit\n start_ms: 10\n end_ms: 5680\n- text: Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah\n start_ms: 5680\n end_ms: 10900\n- text: Yo, you know it\n start_ms: 10900\n end_ms: 12550\n- text: Infamous ninety nine\n start_ms: 12550\n end_ms: 15250\n- text: Infamous two thousand\n start_ms: 15250\n end_ms: 16850\n- text: Ain't nuttin but thugs over here baby\n start_ms: 16850\n end_ms: 21150\n- text: Yo\n start_ms: 21150\n end_ms: 23280\n- text: Straight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\n start_ms: 23280\n end_ms: 26420\n- text: Like the terminal ill takin' they last breath\n start_ms: 26420\n end_ms: 28820\n- text: Read your last rites, God forgive me\n start_ms: 28820\n end_ms: 30730\n- text: For the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\n start_ms: 30730\n end_ms: 33280\n- text: Kill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\n start_ms: 33280\n end_ms: 35330\n- text: Readin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\n start_ms: 35330\n end_ms: 37900\n- text: Keep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\n start_ms: 37900\n end_ms: 40320\n- text: Hearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\n start_ms: 40320\n end_ms: 43130\n- text: Sleep with half closed eyelids\n start_ms: 43130\n end_ms: 44880\n- text: Some say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\n start_ms: 44880\n end_ms: 47570\n- text: Go easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\n start_ms: 47570\n end_ms: 49950\n- text: Niggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\n start_ms: 49950\n end_ms: 52490\n- text: Scopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District Jeweller\n start_ms: 52490\n end_ms: 55830\n- text: With they hand on the biscuit\n start_ms: 55830\n end_ms: 57570\n- text: Do ya, wanna get caught lifted, or sober, so you can react quick?\n start_ms: 57570\n end_ms: 61660\n- text: Blow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\n start_ms: 61660\n end_ms: 64860\n- text: On my thousand dollar mattress\n start_ms: 64860\n end_ms: 66430\n- text: It's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\n start_ms: 66430\n end_ms: 69050\n- text: A moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n start_ms: 69050\n end_ms: 72440\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 72440\n end_ms: 75100\n- text: We don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 75100\n end_ms: 77560\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 77560\n end_ms: 79470\n- text: Thug, life is mine\n start_ms: 79470\n end_ms: 81810\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 81810\n end_ms: 84280\n- text: '''Cuz we don''t give a fuck'\n start_ms: 84280\n end_ms: 86850\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 86850\n end_ms: 88610\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 88610\n end_ms: 90230\n- text: I got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\n start_ms: 90230\n end_ms: 92610\n- text: If it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (Very-very)\n start_ms: 92610\n end_ms: 95070\n- text: The streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\n start_ms: 95070\n end_ms: 98090\n- text: So when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\n start_ms: 98090\n end_ms: 100190\n- text: Keep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\n start_ms: 100190\n end_ms: 101890\n- text: Been through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\n start_ms: 101890\n end_ms: 104720\n- text: Apply street rules to the office, high performance\n start_ms: 104720\n end_ms: 107430\n- text: Rap author, made millions off of\n start_ms: 107430\n end_ms: 109580\n- text: Melodic, hypnotic productions\n start_ms: 109580\n end_ms: 111750\n- text: That'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (You feel me? You feel me?)\n start_ms: 111750\n end_ms: 114440\n- text: You feel me? I'll write a graphic page\n start_ms: 114440\n end_ms: 116300\n- text: Escort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\n start_ms: 116300\n end_ms: 118990\n- text: We the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (Don't get no realer than this)\n start_ms: 118990\n end_ms: 121820\n- text: It's more real than any words I can muster\n start_ms: 121820\n end_ms: 124080\n- text: Pull the black Cadillac trucks up (What?)\n start_ms: 124080\n end_ms: 125850\n- text: Hop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n start_ms: 125850\n end_ms: 129320\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 129320\n end_ms: 132310\n- text: We don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 132310\n end_ms: 134620\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 134620\n end_ms: 136290\n- text: Thug, life is mine\n start_ms: 136290\n end_ms: 138980\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 138980\n end_ms: 141350\n- text: '''Cuz we don''t give a fuck'\n start_ms: 141350\n end_ms: 144040\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 144040\n end_ms: 145920\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 145920\n end_ms: 147050\n- text: Silk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\n start_ms: 147050\n end_ms: 149200\n- text: Halle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\n start_ms: 149200\n end_ms: 152380\n- text: Silk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\n start_ms: 152380\n end_ms: 155270\n- text: And I'll front like my doo doo don't stink\n start_ms: 155270\n end_ms: 157380\n- text: Instinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\n start_ms: 157380\n end_ms: 160250\n- text: Hazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\n start_ms: 160250\n end_ms: 162080\n- text: Everybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\n start_ms: 162080\n end_ms: 165020\n- text: Just to think, that was yesterday's action\n start_ms: 165020\n end_ms: 166650\n- text: '''Cuz today goes either way, we came a long way'\n start_ms: 166650\n end_ms: 169260\n- text: From hallway steps and hand me down shit\n start_ms: 169260\n end_ms: 171110\n- text: Fuck my foes, I seen the other side, NexTel cell roam\n start_ms: 171110\n end_ms: 174050\n- text: Call the chopper phone, heliport in my home, Quincy Jones posters\n start_ms: 174050\n end_ms: 177650\n- text: Wake up, guns under my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\n start_ms: 177650\n end_ms: 181230\n- text: Shit is better than a novel, autobiographic\n start_ms: 181230\n end_ms: 183380\n- text: Spit it on tracks, it becomes classic\n start_ms: 183380\n end_ms: 185540\n- text: Start some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n start_ms: 185540\n end_ms: 188290\n- text: Nastradamus, last one to blast when the NARC's come\n start_ms: 188290\n end_ms: 190920\n- text: Know how to leave anythin' in thirty seconds\n start_ms: 190920\n end_ms: 193040\n- text: When you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\n start_ms: 193040\n end_ms: 195380\n- text: I'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\n start_ms: 195380\n end_ms: 197850\n- text: Your flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\n start_ms: 197850\n end_ms: 200430\n- text: Cremate your flesh to ashes\n start_ms: 200430\n end_ms: 201930\n- text: You don't need a suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n start_ms: 201930\n end_ms: 205780\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 205780\n end_ms: 208650\n- text: We don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 208650\n end_ms: 210750\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 210750\n end_ms: 212670\n- text: Thug, life is mine\n start_ms: 212670\n end_ms: 215520\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 215520\n end_ms: 217910\n- text: '''Cuz we don''t give a fuck'\n start_ms: 217910\n end_ms: 220610\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 220610\n end_ms: 222240\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 222240\n end_ms: 226960\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 226960\n end_ms: 231820\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 231820\n end_ms: 236920\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 236920\n end_ms: 239930\n- text: Ill Will\n start_ms: 239930\n end_ms: 241810\n- text: You need to give it up, we don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 241810\n end_ms: 246870\n- text: What y'all niggas want, we don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 246870\n end_ms: 250920\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 250920\n end_ms: 253830\n- text: Y'all need to give it up, we don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 253830\n end_ms: 258830\n- text: What y'all niggas want, thug life is mine\n start_ms: 258830\n end_ms: 262590\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 262590\nplain: |-\n Shit\n Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah\n Yo, you know it\n Infamous ninety nine\n Infamous two thousand\n Ain't nuttin but thugs over here baby\n Yo\n\n Straight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\n Like the terminal ill takin' they last breath\n Read your last rites, God forgive me\n For the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\n Kill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\n Readin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\n Keep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\n Hearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\n Sleep with half closed eyelids\n Some say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\n Go easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\n Niggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\n Scopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District Jeweller\n With they hand on the biscuit\n Do ya, wanna get caught lifted, or sober, so you can react quick?\n Blow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\n On my thousand dollar mattress\n It's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\n A moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug, life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cuz we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n I got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\n If it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (Very-very)\n The streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\n So when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\n Keep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\n Been through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\n Apply street rules to the office, high performance\n Rap author, made millions off of\n Melodic, hypnotic productions\n That'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (You feel me? You feel me?)\n You feel me? I'll write a graphic page\n Escort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\n We the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (Don't get no realer than this)\n It's more real than any words I can muster\n Pull the black Cadillac trucks up (What?)\n Hop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug, life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cuz we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n Silk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\n Halle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\n Silk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\n And I'll front like my doo doo don't stink\n Instinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\n Hazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\n Everybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\n Just to think, that was yesterday's action\n 'Cuz today goes either way, we came a long way\n From hallway steps and hand me down shit\n Fuck my foes, I seen the other side, NexTel cell roam\n Call the chopper phone, heliport in my home, Quincy Jones posters\n Wake up, guns under my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\n Shit is better than a novel, autobiographic\n Spit it on tracks, it becomes classic\n Start some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n Nastradamus, last one to blast when the NARC's come\n Know how to leave anythin' in thirty seconds\n When you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\n I'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\n Your flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\n Cremate your flesh to ashes\n You don't need a suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug, life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cuz we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n Thug life is mine\n Thug life is mine\n Thug life is mine\n Ill Will\n You need to give it up, we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want, we don't give a fuck\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up, we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want, thug life is mine\n"},{"id":6834546,"name":"It's Mine","trackName":"It's Mine","artistName":"Mobb Deep","albumName":"Mobb Muzik","duration":253.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah, yeah (hahahaha)\nUh-huh, yeah-yeah (hahahaha)\nHuh, yo, you know it (hahahaha)\nInfamous ninety-nine (infamous ninety-nine)\n(Hahahaha)\nInfamous two thousand\nAin't nuttin' but thugs over here, baby\n(Ahahahaha)\nYo (hahahaha)\n\nStraight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\nLike the terminal ill takin' they last breath\nRead your last rites, God, forgive me\nFor the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\nKill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\nReadin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\nKeep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\nHearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\nSleep with half closed eyelids\n\nSome say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\nGo easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\nNiggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\nScopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District\nJeweler with they hand on the biscuit\nDo you, wanna get caught lifted\nOr sober, so you can react quick?\nBlow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\nOn my thousand dollar mattress\nIt's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\nA moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cause we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nI got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\nIf it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (very-very)\nThe streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\nSo when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\nKeep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\nBeen through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\nApply street rules to the office, high performance\nRap author, made millions off of\n\nMelodic, hypnotic productions\nThat'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (you feel me? You feel me?)\nYou feel me? I'll write a graphic page\nEscort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\nWe the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (don't get no realer than this)\nIt's more real than any words I can muster\nPull the black Cadillac trucks up (what?)\nHop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cause we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nSilk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\nHalle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\nSilk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\nAnd I'll front like my doo-doo don't stink\nInstinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\nHazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\nEverybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\nJust to think, that was yesterday's action\n'Cause today goes either way, we came a long way\n\nFrom hallway steps and hand-me-down shit\nFuck my foes, I seen the other side, Nextel cell roam\nCall the chopper phone, heliport in my home\nQuincy Jones posters, wake up, guns\nUnder my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\nShit is better than a novel, autobiographic\nSpit it on tracks, it becomes classic\nStart some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n\nNastradamus, last one to blast one when the NARC's come\nKnow how to leave anything in thirty seconds\nWhen you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\nI'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\nYour flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\nCremate your flesh to ashes, you don't need\nA suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cause we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nThug life is mine\nThug life is mine\nUh, thug life is mine\nIll Will\nNeed to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\n\nWe don't give a fuck\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: It's Mine\n artist: Mobb Deep\n album: Mobb Muzik\n duration_ms: 253000\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n Yeah, yeah (hahahaha)\n Uh-huh, yeah-yeah (hahahaha)\n Huh, yo, you know it (hahahaha)\n Infamous ninety-nine (infamous ninety-nine)\n (Hahahaha)\n Infamous two thousand\n Ain't nuttin' but thugs over here, baby\n (Ahahahaha)\n Yo (hahahaha)\n\n Straight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\n Like the terminal ill takin' they last breath\n Read your last rites, God, forgive me\n For the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\n Kill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\n Readin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\n Keep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\n Hearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\n Sleep with half closed eyelids\n\n Some say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\n Go easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\n Niggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\n Scopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District\n Jeweler with they hand on the biscuit\n Do you, wanna get caught lifted\n Or sober, so you can react quick?\n Blow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\n On my thousand dollar mattress\n It's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\n A moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n I got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\n If it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (very-very)\n The streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\n So when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\n Keep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\n Been through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\n Apply street rules to the office, high performance\n Rap author, made millions off of\n\n Melodic, hypnotic productions\n That'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (you feel me? You feel me?)\n You feel me? I'll write a graphic page\n Escort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\n We the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (don't get no realer than this)\n It's more real than any words I can muster\n Pull the black Cadillac trucks up (what?)\n Hop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n Silk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\n Halle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\n Silk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\n And I'll front like my doo-doo don't stink\n Instinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\n Hazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\n Everybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\n Just to think, that was yesterday's action\n 'Cause today goes either way, we came a long way\n\n From hallway steps and hand-me-down shit\n Fuck my foes, I seen the other side, Nextel cell roam\n Call the chopper phone, heliport in my home\n Quincy Jones posters, wake up, guns\n Under my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\n Shit is better than a novel, autobiographic\n Spit it on tracks, it becomes classic\n Start some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n\n Nastradamus, last one to blast one when the NARC's come\n Know how to leave anything in thirty seconds\n When you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\n I'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\n Your flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\n Cremate your flesh to ashes, you don't need\n A suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n Thug life is mine\n Thug life is mine\n Uh, thug life is mine\n Ill Will\n Need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n\n We don't give a fuck\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n"},{"id":27649295,"name":"It's Mine","trackName":"It's Mine","artistName":"Mobb Deep","albumName":"Gunshottapes Presents - Mobb Deep - The Illest Mixtape-gst(Gunshottapes)","duration":263.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah, yeah (hahahaha)\nUh-huh, yeah-yeah (hahahaha)\nHuh, yo, you know it (hahahaha)\nInfamous ninety-nine (infamous ninety-nine)\n(Hahahaha)\nInfamous two thousand\nAin't nuttin' but thugs over here, baby\n(Ahahahaha)\nYo (hahahaha)\n\nStraight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\nLike the terminal ill takin' they last breath\nRead your last rites, God, forgive me\nFor the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\nKill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\nReadin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\nKeep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\nHearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\nSleep with half closed eyelids\n\nSome say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\nGo easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\nNiggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\nScopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District\nJeweler with they hand on the biscuit\nDo you, wanna get caught lifted\nOr sober, so you can react quick?\nBlow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\nOn my thousand dollar mattress\nIt's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\nA moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cause we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nI got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\nIf it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (very-very)\nThe streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\nSo when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\nKeep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\nBeen through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\nApply street rules to the office, high performance\nRap author, made millions off of\n\nMelodic, hypnotic productions\nThat'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (you feel me? You feel me?)\nYou feel me? I'll write a graphic page\nEscort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\nWe the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (don't get no realer than this)\nIt's more real than any words I can muster\nPull the black Cadillac trucks up (what?)\nHop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cause we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nSilk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\nHalle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\nSilk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\nAnd I'll front like my doo-doo don't stink\nInstinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\nHazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\nEverybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\nJust to think, that was yesterday's action\n'Cause today goes either way, we came a long way\n\nFrom hallway steps and hand-me-down shit\nFuck my foes, I seen the other side, Nextel cell roam\nCall the chopper phone, heliport in my home\nQuincy Jones posters, wake up, guns\nUnder my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\nShit is better than a novel, autobiographic\nSpit it on tracks, it becomes classic\nStart some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n\nNastradamus, last one to blast one when the NARC's come\nKnow how to leave anything in thirty seconds\nWhen you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\nI'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\nYour flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\nCremate your flesh to ashes, you don't need\nA suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cause we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nThug life is mine\nThug life is mine\nUh, thug life is mine\nIll Will\nNeed to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\n\nWe don't give a fuck\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine","syncedLyrics":"[00:06.56] Yeah, yeah (hahahaha)\n[00:09.15] Uh-huh, yeah-yeah (hahahaha)\n[00:11.31] Huh, yo, you know it (hahahaha)\n[00:12.96] Infamous ninety-nine (infamous ninety-nine)\n[00:15.01] (Hahahaha)\n[00:15.39] Infamous two thousand\n[00:16.77] Ain't nuttin' but thugs over here, baby\n[00:18.58] (Ahahahaha)\n[00:21.44] Yo (hahahaha)\n[00:23.58] Straight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\n[00:26.42] Like the terminal ill takin' they last breath\n[00:28.85] Read your last rites, God, forgive me\n[00:30.66] For the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\n[00:33.02] Kill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\n[00:35.45] Readin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\n[00:38.16] Keep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\n[00:40.24] Hearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\n[00:43.18] Sleep with half closed eyelids\n[00:44.44] Some say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\n[00:47.60] Go easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\n[00:49.93] Niggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\n[00:52.34] Scopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District\n[00:54.98] Jeweler with they hand on the biscuit\n[00:57.35] Do you, wanna get caught lifted\n[00:59.93] Or sober, so you can react quick?\n[01:01.84] Blow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\n[01:04.78] On my thousand dollar mattress\n[01:06.36] It's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\n[01:09.25] A moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n[01:12.47] Y'all need to give it up\n[01:15.12] We don't give a fuck\n[01:17.21] What y'all niggas want\n[01:19.72] Thug life is mine\n[01:22.34] Y'all need to give it up\n[01:24.46] 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n[01:26.73] What y'all niggas want\n[01:29.12] Thug life is mine\n[01:30.53] I got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\n[01:32.61] If it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (very-very)\n[01:35.58] The streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\n[01:37.93] So when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\n[01:40.33] Keep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\n[01:41.93] Been through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\n[01:44.59] Apply street rules to the office, high performance\n[01:47.25] Rap author, made millions off of\n[01:49.90] Melodic, hypnotic productions\n[01:51.65] That'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (you feel me? You feel me?)\n[01:54.60] You feel me? I'll write a graphic page\n[01:56.18] Escort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\n[01:59.19] We the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (don't get no realer than this)\n[02:01.78] It's more real than any words I can muster\n[02:03.81] Pull the black Cadillac trucks up (what?)\n[02:06.33] Hop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n[02:09.77] Y'all need to give it up\n[02:12.36] We don't give a fuck\n[02:14.56] What y'all niggas want\n[02:16.91] Thug life is mine\n[02:19.34] Y'all need to give it up\n[02:21.93] 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n[02:24.07] What y'all niggas want\n[02:26.12] Thug life is mine\n[02:27.25] Silk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\n[02:29.28] Halle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\n[02:32.63] Silk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\n[02:35.60] And I'll front like my doo-doo don't stink\n[02:37.36] Instinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\n[02:40.06] Hazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\n[02:42.12] Everybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\n[02:45.08] Just to think, that was yesterday's action\n[02:46.97] 'Cause today goes either way, we came a long way\n[02:49.60] From hallway steps and hand-me-down shit\n[02:51.22] Fuck my foes, I seen the other side, Nextel cell roam\n[02:54.10] Call the chopper phone, heliport in my home\n[02:56.53] Quincy Jones posters, wake up, guns\n[02:58.59] Under my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\n[03:01.26] Shit is better than a novel, autobiographic\n[03:03.63] Spit it on tracks, it becomes classic\n[03:05.73] Start some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n[03:08.45] Nastradamus, last one to blast one when the NARC's come\n[03:10.81] Know how to leave anything in thirty seconds\n[03:12.91] When you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\n[03:15.45] I'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\n[03:17.81] Your flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\n[03:20.24] Cremate your flesh to ashes, you don't need\n[03:22.63] A suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n[03:26.07] Y'all need to give it up\n[03:28.52] We don't give a fuck\n[03:30.93] What y'all niggas want\n[03:32.53] Thug life is mine\n[03:35.43] Y'all need to give it up\n[03:38.11] 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n[03:40.55] What y'all niggas want\n[03:42.78] Thug life is mine\n[03:47.41] Thug life is mine\n[03:52.08] Thug life is mine\n[03:56.08] Uh, thug life is mine\n[04:00.05] Ill Will\n[04:02.05] Need to give it up\n[04:04.49] We don't give a fuck\n[04:06.84] What y'all niggas want\n[04:09.11] We don't give a fuck\n[04:11.29] Thug life is mine\n[04:13.85] Y'all need to give it up\n[04:16.32] We don't give a fuck\n[04:18.72] What y'all niggas want\n[04:20.64] Thug life is mine\n[04:22.99] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: It's Mine\n artist: Mobb Deep\n album: Gunshottapes Presents - Mobb Deep - The Illest Mixtape-gst(Gunshottapes)\n duration_ms: 263000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yeah, yeah (hahahaha)\n start_ms: 6560\n end_ms: 9150\n- text: Uh-huh, yeah-yeah (hahahaha)\n start_ms: 9150\n end_ms: 11310\n- text: Huh, yo, you know it (hahahaha)\n start_ms: 11310\n end_ms: 12960\n- text: Infamous ninety-nine (infamous ninety-nine)\n start_ms: 12960\n end_ms: 15010\n- text: (Hahahaha)\n start_ms: 15010\n end_ms: 15390\n- text: Infamous two thousand\n start_ms: 15390\n end_ms: 16770\n- text: Ain't nuttin' but thugs over here, baby\n start_ms: 16770\n end_ms: 18580\n- text: (Ahahahaha)\n start_ms: 18580\n end_ms: 21440\n- text: Yo (hahahaha)\n start_ms: 21440\n end_ms: 23580\n- text: Straight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\n start_ms: 23580\n end_ms: 26420\n- text: Like the terminal ill takin' they last breath\n start_ms: 26420\n end_ms: 28850\n- text: Read your last rites, God, forgive me\n start_ms: 28850\n end_ms: 30660\n- text: For the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\n start_ms: 30660\n end_ms: 33020\n- text: Kill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\n start_ms: 33020\n end_ms: 35450\n- text: Readin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\n start_ms: 35450\n end_ms: 38160\n- text: Keep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\n start_ms: 38160\n end_ms: 40240\n- text: Hearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\n start_ms: 40240\n end_ms: 43180\n- text: Sleep with half closed eyelids\n start_ms: 43180\n end_ms: 44440\n- text: Some say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\n start_ms: 44440\n end_ms: 47600\n- text: Go easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\n start_ms: 47600\n end_ms: 49930\n- text: Niggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\n start_ms: 49930\n end_ms: 52340\n- text: Scopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District\n start_ms: 52340\n end_ms: 54980\n- text: Jeweler with they hand on the biscuit\n start_ms: 54980\n end_ms: 57350\n- text: Do you, wanna get caught lifted\n start_ms: 57350\n end_ms: 59930\n- text: Or sober, so you can react quick?\n start_ms: 59930\n end_ms: 61840\n- text: Blow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\n start_ms: 61840\n end_ms: 64780\n- text: On my thousand dollar mattress\n start_ms: 64780\n end_ms: 66360\n- text: It's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\n start_ms: 66360\n end_ms: 69250\n- text: A moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n start_ms: 69250\n end_ms: 72470\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 72470\n end_ms: 75120\n- text: We don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 75120\n end_ms: 77210\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 77210\n end_ms: 79720\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 79720\n end_ms: 82340\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 82340\n end_ms: 84460\n- text: '''Cause we don''t give a fuck'\n start_ms: 84460\n end_ms: 86730\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 86730\n end_ms: 89120\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 89120\n end_ms: 90530\n- text: I got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\n start_ms: 90530\n end_ms: 92610\n- text: If it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (very-very)\n start_ms: 92610\n end_ms: 95580\n- text: The streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\n start_ms: 95580\n end_ms: 97930\n- text: So when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\n start_ms: 97930\n end_ms: 100330\n- text: Keep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\n start_ms: 100330\n end_ms: 101930\n- text: Been through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\n start_ms: 101930\n end_ms: 104590\n- text: Apply street rules to the office, high performance\n start_ms: 104590\n end_ms: 107250\n- text: Rap author, made millions off of\n start_ms: 107250\n end_ms: 109900\n- text: Melodic, hypnotic productions\n start_ms: 109900\n end_ms: 111650\n- text: That'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (you feel me? You feel me?)\n start_ms: 111650\n end_ms: 114600\n- text: You feel me? I'll write a graphic page\n start_ms: 114600\n end_ms: 116180\n- text: Escort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\n start_ms: 116180\n end_ms: 119190\n- text: We the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (don't get no realer than this)\n start_ms: 119190\n end_ms: 121780\n- text: It's more real than any words I can muster\n start_ms: 121780\n end_ms: 123810\n- text: Pull the black Cadillac trucks up (what?)\n start_ms: 123810\n end_ms: 126330\n- text: Hop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n start_ms: 126330\n end_ms: 129770\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 129770\n end_ms: 132360\n- text: We don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 132360\n end_ms: 134560\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 134560\n end_ms: 136910\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 136910\n end_ms: 139340\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 139340\n end_ms: 141930\n- text: '''Cause we don''t give a fuck'\n start_ms: 141930\n end_ms: 144070\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 144070\n end_ms: 146120\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 146120\n end_ms: 147250\n- text: Silk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\n start_ms: 147250\n end_ms: 149280\n- text: Halle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\n start_ms: 149280\n end_ms: 152630\n- text: Silk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\n start_ms: 152630\n end_ms: 155600\n- text: And I'll front like my doo-doo don't stink\n start_ms: 155600\n end_ms: 157360\n- text: Instinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\n start_ms: 157360\n end_ms: 160060\n- text: Hazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\n start_ms: 160060\n end_ms: 162120\n- text: Everybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\n start_ms: 162120\n end_ms: 165080\n- text: Just to think, that was yesterday's action\n start_ms: 165080\n end_ms: 166970\n- text: '''Cause today goes either way, we came a long way'\n start_ms: 166970\n end_ms: 169600\n- text: From hallway steps and hand-me-down shit\n start_ms: 169600\n end_ms: 171220\n- text: Fuck my foes, I seen the other side, Nextel cell roam\n start_ms: 171220\n end_ms: 174100\n- text: Call the chopper phone, heliport in my home\n start_ms: 174100\n end_ms: 176530\n- text: Quincy Jones posters, wake up, guns\n start_ms: 176530\n end_ms: 178590\n- text: Under my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\n start_ms: 178590\n end_ms: 181260\n- text: Shit is better than a novel, autobiographic\n start_ms: 181260\n end_ms: 183630\n- text: Spit it on tracks, it becomes classic\n start_ms: 183630\n end_ms: 185730\n- text: Start some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n start_ms: 185730\n end_ms: 188450\n- text: Nastradamus, last one to blast one when the NARC's come\n start_ms: 188450\n end_ms: 190810\n- text: Know how to leave anything in thirty seconds\n start_ms: 190810\n end_ms: 192910\n- text: When you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\n start_ms: 192910\n end_ms: 195450\n- text: I'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\n start_ms: 195450\n end_ms: 197810\n- text: Your flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\n start_ms: 197810\n end_ms: 200240\n- text: Cremate your flesh to ashes, you don't need\n start_ms: 200240\n end_ms: 202630\n- text: A suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n start_ms: 202630\n end_ms: 206070\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 206070\n end_ms: 208520\n- text: We don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 208520\n end_ms: 210930\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 210930\n end_ms: 212530\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 212530\n end_ms: 215430\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 215430\n end_ms: 218110\n- text: '''Cause we don''t give a fuck'\n start_ms: 218110\n end_ms: 220550\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 220550\n end_ms: 222780\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 222780\n end_ms: 227410\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 227410\n end_ms: 232080\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 232080\n end_ms: 236080\n- text: Uh, thug life is mine\n start_ms: 236080\n end_ms: 240050\n- text: Ill Will\n start_ms: 240050\n end_ms: 242050\n- text: Need to give it up\n start_ms: 242050\n end_ms: 244490\n- text: We don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 244490\n end_ms: 246840\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 246840\n end_ms: 249110\n- text: We don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 249110\n end_ms: 251290\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 251290\n end_ms: 253850\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 253850\n end_ms: 256320\n- text: We don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 256320\n end_ms: 258720\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 258720\n end_ms: 260640\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 260640\n end_ms: 262990\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 262990\nplain: |-\n Yeah, yeah (hahahaha)\n Uh-huh, yeah-yeah (hahahaha)\n Huh, yo, you know it (hahahaha)\n Infamous ninety-nine (infamous ninety-nine)\n (Hahahaha)\n Infamous two thousand\n Ain't nuttin' but thugs over here, baby\n (Ahahahaha)\n Yo (hahahaha)\n\n Straight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\n Like the terminal ill takin' they last breath\n Read your last rites, God, forgive me\n For the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\n Kill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\n Readin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\n Keep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\n Hearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\n Sleep with half closed eyelids\n\n Some say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\n Go easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\n Niggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\n Scopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District\n Jeweler with they hand on the biscuit\n Do you, wanna get caught lifted\n Or sober, so you can react quick?\n Blow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\n On my thousand dollar mattress\n It's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\n A moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n I got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\n If it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (very-very)\n The streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\n So when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\n Keep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\n Been through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\n Apply street rules to the office, high performance\n Rap author, made millions off of\n\n Melodic, hypnotic productions\n That'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (you feel me? You feel me?)\n You feel me? I'll write a graphic page\n Escort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\n We the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (don't get no realer than this)\n It's more real than any words I can muster\n Pull the black Cadillac trucks up (what?)\n Hop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n Silk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\n Halle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\n Silk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\n And I'll front like my doo-doo don't stink\n Instinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\n Hazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\n Everybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\n Just to think, that was yesterday's action\n 'Cause today goes either way, we came a long way\n\n From hallway steps and hand-me-down shit\n Fuck my foes, I seen the other side, Nextel cell roam\n Call the chopper phone, heliport in my home\n Quincy Jones posters, wake up, guns\n Under my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\n Shit is better than a novel, autobiographic\n Spit it on tracks, it becomes classic\n Start some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n\n Nastradamus, last one to blast one when the NARC's come\n Know how to leave anything in thirty seconds\n When you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\n I'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\n Your flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\n Cremate your flesh to ashes, you don't need\n A suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n Thug life is mine\n Thug life is mine\n Uh, thug life is mine\n Ill Will\n Need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n\n We don't give a fuck\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n"},{"id":11738562,"name":"It's Mine (Instrumental)","trackName":"It's Mine (Instrumental)","artistName":"Mobb Deep Featuring Nas","albumName":"It's Mine","duration":254.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah, yeah (hahahaha)\nUh-huh, yeah-yeah (hahahaha)\nHuh, yo, you know it (hahahaha)\nInfamous ninety-nine (infamous ninety-nine)\n(Hahahaha)\nInfamous two thousand\nAin't nuttin' but thugs over here, baby\n(Ahahahaha)\nYo (hahahaha)\n\nStraight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\nLike the terminal ill takin' they last breath\nRead your last rites, God, forgive me\nFor the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\nKill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\nReadin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\nKeep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\nHearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\nSleep with half closed eyelids\n\nSome say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\nGo easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\nNiggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\nScopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District\nJeweler with they hand on the biscuit\nDo you, wanna get caught lifted\nOr sober, so you can react quick?\nBlow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\nOn my thousand dollar mattress\nIt's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\nA moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cause we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nI got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\nIf it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (very-very)\nThe streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\nSo when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\nKeep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\nBeen through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\nApply street rules to the office, high performance\nRap author, made millions off of\n\nMelodic, hypnotic productions\nThat'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (you feel me? You feel me?)\nYou feel me? I'll write a graphic page\nEscort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\nWe the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (don't get no realer than this)\nIt's more real than any words I can muster\nPull the black Cadillac trucks up (what?)\nHop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cause we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nSilk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\nHalle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\nSilk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\nAnd I'll front like my doo-doo don't stink\nInstinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\nHazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\nEverybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\nJust to think, that was yesterday's action\n'Cause today goes either way, we came a long way\n\nFrom hallway steps and hand-me-down shit\nFuck my foes, I seen the other side, Nextel cell roam\nCall the chopper phone, heliport in my home\nQuincy Jones posters, wake up, guns\nUnder my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\nShit is better than a novel, autobiographic\nSpit it on tracks, it becomes classic\nStart some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n\nNastradamus, last one to blast one when the NARC's come\nKnow how to leave anything in thirty seconds\nWhen you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\nI'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\nYour flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\nCremate your flesh to ashes, you don't need\nA suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cause we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nThug life is mine\nThug life is mine\nUh, thug life is mine\nIll Will\nNeed to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\n\nWe don't give a fuck\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: It's Mine (Instrumental)\n artist: Mobb Deep Featuring Nas\n album: It's Mine\n duration_ms: 254000\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n Yeah, yeah (hahahaha)\n Uh-huh, yeah-yeah (hahahaha)\n Huh, yo, you know it (hahahaha)\n Infamous ninety-nine (infamous ninety-nine)\n (Hahahaha)\n Infamous two thousand\n Ain't nuttin' but thugs over here, baby\n (Ahahahaha)\n Yo (hahahaha)\n\n Straight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\n Like the terminal ill takin' they last breath\n Read your last rites, God, forgive me\n For the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\n Kill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\n Readin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\n Keep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\n Hearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\n Sleep with half closed eyelids\n\n Some say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\n Go easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\n Niggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\n Scopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District\n Jeweler with they hand on the biscuit\n Do you, wanna get caught lifted\n Or sober, so you can react quick?\n Blow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\n On my thousand dollar mattress\n It's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\n A moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n I got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\n If it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (very-very)\n The streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\n So when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\n Keep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\n Been through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\n Apply street rules to the office, high performance\n Rap author, made millions off of\n\n Melodic, hypnotic productions\n That'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (you feel me? You feel me?)\n You feel me? I'll write a graphic page\n Escort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\n We the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (don't get no realer than this)\n It's more real than any words I can muster\n Pull the black Cadillac trucks up (what?)\n Hop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n Silk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\n Halle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\n Silk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\n And I'll front like my doo-doo don't stink\n Instinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\n Hazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\n Everybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\n Just to think, that was yesterday's action\n 'Cause today goes either way, we came a long way\n\n From hallway steps and hand-me-down shit\n Fuck my foes, I seen the other side, Nextel cell roam\n Call the chopper phone, heliport in my home\n Quincy Jones posters, wake up, guns\n Under my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\n Shit is better than a novel, autobiographic\n Spit it on tracks, it becomes classic\n Start some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n\n Nastradamus, last one to blast one when the NARC's come\n Know how to leave anything in thirty seconds\n When you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\n I'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\n Your flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\n Cremate your flesh to ashes, you don't need\n A suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n Thug life is mine\n Thug life is mine\n Uh, thug life is mine\n Ill Will\n Need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n\n We don't give a fuck\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n"},{"id":30630057,"name":"It's Mine Feat. Nas","trackName":"It's Mine Feat. Nas","artistName":"Mobb Deep","albumName":"Deep Thoughts (The Real Best Of Mobb Deep) (Mixed By DJ L)","duration":200.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Shit\nYeah, yeah, yeah, yeah\nYo, you know it\nInfamous ninety nine\nInfamous two thousand\nAin't nuttin but thugs over here baby\nYo\n\nStraight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\nLike the terminal ill takin' they last breath\nRead your last rites, God forgive me\nFor the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\nKill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\nReadin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\nKeep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\nHearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\nSleep with half closed eyelids\nSome say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\nGo easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\nNiggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\nScopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District Jeweller\nWith they hand on the biscuit\nDo ya, wanna get caught lifted, or sober, so you can react quick?\nBlow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\nOn my thousand dollar mattress\nIt's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\nA moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug, life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cuz we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nI got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\nIf it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (Very-very)\nThe streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\nSo when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\nKeep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\nBeen through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\nApply street rules to the office, high performance\nRap author, made millions off of\nMelodic, hypnotic productions\nThat'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (You feel me? You feel me?)\nYou feel me? I'll write a graphic page\nEscort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\nWe the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (Don't get no realer than this)\nIt's more real than any words I can muster\nPull the black Cadillac trucks up (What?)\nHop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug, life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cuz we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nSilk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\nHalle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\nSilk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\nAnd I'll front like my doo doo don't stink\nInstinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\nHazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\nEverybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\nJust to think, that was yesterday's action\n'Cuz today goes either way, we came a long way\nFrom hallway steps and hand me down shit\nFuck my foes, I seen the other side, NexTel cell roam\nCall the chopper phone, heliport in my home, Quincy Jones posters\nWake up, guns under my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\nShit is better than a novel, autobiographic\nSpit it on tracks, it becomes classic\nStart some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\nNastradamus, last one to blast when the NARC's come\nKnow how to leave anythin' in thirty seconds\nWhen you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\nI'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\nYour flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\nCremate your flesh to ashes\nYou don't need a suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug, life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cuz we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nThug life is mine\nThug life is mine\nThug life is mine\nIll Will\nYou need to give it up, we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want, we don't give a fuck\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up, we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want, thug life is mine","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.01] Shit\n[00:05.67] Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah\n[00:10.91] Yo, you know it\n[00:12.52] Infamous ninety nine\n[00:15.24] Infamous two thousand\n[00:16.85] Ain't nuttin but thugs over here baby\n[00:21.11] Yo\n[00:23.25] Straight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\n[00:26.48] Like the terminal ill takin' they last breath\n[00:28.83] Read your last rites, God forgive me\n[00:30.76] For the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\n[00:33.25] Kill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\n[00:35.39] Readin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\n[00:37.92] Keep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\n[00:40.36] Hearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\n[00:43.17] Sleep with half closed eyelids\n[00:44.85] Some say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\n[00:47.56] Go easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\n[00:49.90] Niggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\n[00:52.47] Scopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District Jeweller\n[00:55.83] With they hand on the biscuit\n[00:57.50] Do ya, wanna get caught lifted, or sober, so you can react quick?\n[01:01.67] Blow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\n[01:04.85] On my thousand dollar mattress\n[01:06.42] It's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\n[01:09.10] A moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n[01:12.45] Y'all need to give it up\n[01:15.11] We don't give a fuck\n[01:17.58] What y'all niggas want\n[01:19.41] Thug, life is mine\n[01:21.86] Y'all need to give it up\n[01:24.28] 'Cuz we don't give a fuck\n[01:26.89] What y'all niggas want\n[01:28.67] Thug life is mine\n[01:30.20] I got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\n[01:32.63] If it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (Very-very)\n[01:35.01] The streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\n[01:38.01] So when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\n[01:40.18] Keep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\n[01:41.80] Been through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\n[01:44.75] Apply street rules to the office, high performance\n[01:47.45] Rap author, made millions off of\n[01:49.55] Melodic, hypnotic productions\n[01:51.75] That'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (You feel me? You feel me?)\n[01:54.48] You feel me? I'll write a graphic page\n[01:56.32] Escort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\n[01:58.92] We the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (Don't get no realer than this)\n[02:01.83] It's more real than any words I can muster\n[02:04.08] Pull the black Cadillac trucks up (What?)\n[02:05.83] Hop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n[02:09.30] Y'all need to give it up\n[02:12.32] We don't give a fuck\n[02:14.63] What y'all niggas want\n[02:16.28] Thug, life is mine\n[02:18.98] Y'all need to give it up\n[02:21.35] 'Cuz we don't give a fuck\n[02:24.09] What y'all niggas want\n[02:25.93] Thug life is mine\n[02:27.07] Silk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\n[02:29.26] Halle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\n[02:32.35] Silk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\n[02:35.23] And I'll front like my doo doo don't stink\n[02:37.35] Instinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\n[02:40.24] Hazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\n[02:42.00] Everybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\n[02:45.06] Just to think, that was yesterday's action\n[02:46.67] 'Cuz today goes either way, we came a long way\n[02:49.21] From hallway steps and hand me down shit\n[02:51.18] Fuck my foes, I seen the other side, NexTel cell roam\n[02:54.05] Call the chopper phone, heliport in my home, Quincy Jones posters\n[02:57.61] Wake up, guns under my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\n[03:01.23] Shit is better than a novel, autobiographic\n[03:03.31] Spit it on tracks, it becomes classic\n[03:05.57] Start some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n[03:08.29] Nastradamus, last one to blast when the NARC's come\n[03:10.99] Know how to leave anythin' in thirty seconds\n[03:13.09] When you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\n[03:15.32] I'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\n[03:17.83] Your flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\n[03:20.48] Cremate your flesh to ashes\n[03:21.95] You don't need a suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n[03:25.74] Y'all need to give it up\n[03:28.60] We don't give a fuck\n[03:30.79] What y'all niggas want\n[03:32.62] Thug, life is mine\n[03:35.58] Y'all need to give it up\n[03:37.95] 'Cuz we don't give a fuck\n[03:40.62] What y'all niggas want\n[03:42.21] Thug life is mine\n[03:46.92] Thug life is mine\n[03:51.89] Thug life is mine\n[03:56.97] Thug life is mine\n[03:59.95] Ill Will\n[04:01.84] You need to give it up, we don't give a fuck\n[04:06.81] What y'all niggas want, we don't give a fuck\n[04:10.95] Thug life is mine\n[04:13.80] Y'all need to give it up, we don't give a fuck\n[04:18.88] What y'all niggas want, thug life is mine\n[04:22.56] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: It's Mine Feat. Nas\n artist: Mobb Deep\n album: Deep Thoughts (The Real Best Of Mobb Deep) (Mixed By DJ L)\n duration_ms: 200000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Shit\n start_ms: 10\n end_ms: 5670\n- text: Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah\n start_ms: 5670\n end_ms: 10910\n- text: Yo, you know it\n start_ms: 10910\n end_ms: 12520\n- text: Infamous ninety nine\n start_ms: 12520\n end_ms: 15240\n- text: Infamous two thousand\n start_ms: 15240\n end_ms: 16850\n- text: Ain't nuttin but thugs over here baby\n start_ms: 16850\n end_ms: 21110\n- text: Yo\n start_ms: 21110\n end_ms: 23250\n- text: Straight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\n start_ms: 23250\n end_ms: 26480\n- text: Like the terminal ill takin' they last breath\n start_ms: 26480\n end_ms: 28830\n- text: Read your last rites, God forgive me\n start_ms: 28830\n end_ms: 30760\n- text: For the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\n start_ms: 30760\n end_ms: 33250\n- text: Kill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\n start_ms: 33250\n end_ms: 35390\n- text: Readin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\n start_ms: 35390\n end_ms: 37920\n- text: Keep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\n start_ms: 37920\n end_ms: 40360\n- text: Hearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\n start_ms: 40360\n end_ms: 43170\n- text: Sleep with half closed eyelids\n start_ms: 43170\n end_ms: 44850\n- text: Some say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\n start_ms: 44850\n end_ms: 47560\n- text: Go easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\n start_ms: 47560\n end_ms: 49900\n- text: Niggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\n start_ms: 49900\n end_ms: 52470\n- text: Scopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District Jeweller\n start_ms: 52470\n end_ms: 55830\n- text: With they hand on the biscuit\n start_ms: 55830\n end_ms: 57500\n- text: Do ya, wanna get caught lifted, or sober, so you can react quick?\n start_ms: 57500\n end_ms: 61670\n- text: Blow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\n start_ms: 61670\n end_ms: 64850\n- text: On my thousand dollar mattress\n start_ms: 64850\n end_ms: 66420\n- text: It's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\n start_ms: 66420\n end_ms: 69100\n- text: A moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n start_ms: 69100\n end_ms: 72450\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 72450\n end_ms: 75110\n- text: We don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 75110\n end_ms: 77580\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 77580\n end_ms: 79410\n- text: Thug, life is mine\n start_ms: 79410\n end_ms: 81860\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 81860\n end_ms: 84280\n- text: '''Cuz we don''t give a fuck'\n start_ms: 84280\n end_ms: 86890\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 86890\n end_ms: 88670\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 88670\n end_ms: 90200\n- text: I got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\n start_ms: 90200\n end_ms: 92630\n- text: If it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (Very-very)\n start_ms: 92630\n end_ms: 95010\n- text: The streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\n start_ms: 95010\n end_ms: 98010\n- text: So when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\n start_ms: 98010\n end_ms: 100180\n- text: Keep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\n start_ms: 100180\n end_ms: 101800\n- text: Been through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\n start_ms: 101800\n end_ms: 104750\n- text: Apply street rules to the office, high performance\n start_ms: 104750\n end_ms: 107450\n- text: Rap author, made millions off of\n start_ms: 107450\n end_ms: 109550\n- text: Melodic, hypnotic productions\n start_ms: 109550\n end_ms: 111750\n- text: That'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (You feel me? You feel me?)\n start_ms: 111750\n end_ms: 114480\n- text: You feel me? I'll write a graphic page\n start_ms: 114480\n end_ms: 116320\n- text: Escort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\n start_ms: 116320\n end_ms: 118920\n- text: We the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (Don't get no realer than this)\n start_ms: 118920\n end_ms: 121830\n- text: It's more real than any words I can muster\n start_ms: 121830\n end_ms: 124080\n- text: Pull the black Cadillac trucks up (What?)\n start_ms: 124080\n end_ms: 125830\n- text: Hop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n start_ms: 125830\n end_ms: 129300\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 129300\n end_ms: 132320\n- text: We don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 132320\n end_ms: 134630\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 134630\n end_ms: 136280\n- text: Thug, life is mine\n start_ms: 136280\n end_ms: 138980\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 138980\n end_ms: 141350\n- text: '''Cuz we don''t give a fuck'\n start_ms: 141350\n end_ms: 144090\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 144090\n end_ms: 145930\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 145930\n end_ms: 147070\n- text: Silk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\n start_ms: 147070\n end_ms: 149260\n- text: Halle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\n start_ms: 149260\n end_ms: 152350\n- text: Silk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\n start_ms: 152350\n end_ms: 155230\n- text: And I'll front like my doo doo don't stink\n start_ms: 155230\n end_ms: 157350\n- text: Instinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\n start_ms: 157350\n end_ms: 160240\n- text: Hazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\n start_ms: 160240\n end_ms: 162000\n- text: Everybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\n start_ms: 162000\n end_ms: 165060\n- text: Just to think, that was yesterday's action\n start_ms: 165060\n end_ms: 166670\n- text: '''Cuz today goes either way, we came a long way'\n start_ms: 166670\n end_ms: 169210\n- text: From hallway steps and hand me down shit\n start_ms: 169210\n end_ms: 171180\n- text: Fuck my foes, I seen the other side, NexTel cell roam\n start_ms: 171180\n end_ms: 174050\n- text: Call the chopper phone, heliport in my home, Quincy Jones posters\n start_ms: 174050\n end_ms: 177610\n- text: Wake up, guns under my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\n start_ms: 177610\n end_ms: 181230\n- text: Shit is better than a novel, autobiographic\n start_ms: 181230\n end_ms: 183310\n- text: Spit it on tracks, it becomes classic\n start_ms: 183310\n end_ms: 185570\n- text: Start some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n start_ms: 185570\n end_ms: 188290\n- text: Nastradamus, last one to blast when the NARC's come\n start_ms: 188290\n end_ms: 190990\n- text: Know how to leave anythin' in thirty seconds\n start_ms: 190990\n end_ms: 193090\n- text: When you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\n start_ms: 193090\n end_ms: 195320\n- text: I'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\n start_ms: 195320\n end_ms: 197830\n- text: Your flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\n start_ms: 197830\n end_ms: 200480\n- text: Cremate your flesh to ashes\n start_ms: 200480\n end_ms: 201950\n- text: You don't need a suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n start_ms: 201950\n end_ms: 205740\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 205740\n end_ms: 208600\n- text: We don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 208600\n end_ms: 210790\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 210790\n end_ms: 212620\n- text: Thug, life is mine\n start_ms: 212620\n end_ms: 215580\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 215580\n end_ms: 217950\n- text: '''Cuz we don''t give a fuck'\n start_ms: 217950\n end_ms: 220620\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 220620\n end_ms: 222210\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 222210\n end_ms: 226920\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 226920\n end_ms: 231890\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 231890\n end_ms: 236970\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 236970\n end_ms: 239950\n- text: Ill Will\n start_ms: 239950\n end_ms: 241840\n- text: You need to give it up, we don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 241840\n end_ms: 246810\n- text: What y'all niggas want, we don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 246810\n end_ms: 250950\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 250950\n end_ms: 253800\n- text: Y'all need to give it up, we don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 253800\n end_ms: 258880\n- text: What y'all niggas want, thug life is mine\n start_ms: 258880\n end_ms: 262560\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 262560\nplain: |-\n Shit\n Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah\n Yo, you know it\n Infamous ninety nine\n Infamous two thousand\n Ain't nuttin but thugs over here baby\n Yo\n\n Straight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\n Like the terminal ill takin' they last breath\n Read your last rites, God forgive me\n For the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\n Kill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\n Readin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\n Keep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\n Hearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\n Sleep with half closed eyelids\n Some say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\n Go easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\n Niggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\n Scopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District Jeweller\n With they hand on the biscuit\n Do ya, wanna get caught lifted, or sober, so you can react quick?\n Blow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\n On my thousand dollar mattress\n It's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\n A moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug, life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cuz we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n I got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\n If it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (Very-very)\n The streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\n So when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\n Keep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\n Been through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\n Apply street rules to the office, high performance\n Rap author, made millions off of\n Melodic, hypnotic productions\n That'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (You feel me? You feel me?)\n You feel me? I'll write a graphic page\n Escort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\n We the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (Don't get no realer than this)\n It's more real than any words I can muster\n Pull the black Cadillac trucks up (What?)\n Hop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug, life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cuz we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n Silk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\n Halle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\n Silk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\n And I'll front like my doo doo don't stink\n Instinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\n Hazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\n Everybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\n Just to think, that was yesterday's action\n 'Cuz today goes either way, we came a long way\n From hallway steps and hand me down shit\n Fuck my foes, I seen the other side, NexTel cell roam\n Call the chopper phone, heliport in my home, Quincy Jones posters\n Wake up, guns under my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\n Shit is better than a novel, autobiographic\n Spit it on tracks, it becomes classic\n Start some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n Nastradamus, last one to blast when the NARC's come\n Know how to leave anythin' in thirty seconds\n When you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\n I'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\n Your flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\n Cremate your flesh to ashes\n You don't need a suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug, life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cuz we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n Thug life is mine\n Thug life is mine\n Thug life is mine\n Ill Will\n You need to give it up, we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want, we don't give a fuck\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up, we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want, thug life is mine\n"},{"id":28146994,"name":"It's Mine (feat. Nas)","trackName":"It's Mine (feat. Nas)","artistName":"Mobb Deep","albumName":"Mobb Muzik (Clean Version)","duration":253.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Shit\nYeah, yeah, yeah, yeah\nYo, you know it\nInfamous ninety nine\nInfamous two thousand\nAin't nuttin but thugs over here baby\nYo\n\nStraight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\nLike the terminal ill takin' they last breath\nRead your last rites, God forgive me\nFor the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\nKill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\nReadin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\nKeep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\nHearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\nSleep with half closed eyelids\nSome say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\nGo easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\nNiggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\nScopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District Jeweller\nWith they hand on the biscuit\nDo ya, wanna get caught lifted, or sober, so you can react quick?\nBlow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\nOn my thousand dollar mattress\nIt's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\nA moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug, life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cuz we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nI got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\nIf it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (Very-very)\nThe streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\nSo when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\nKeep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\nBeen through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\nApply street rules to the office, high performance\nRap author, made millions off of\nMelodic, hypnotic productions\nThat'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (You feel me? You feel me?)\nYou feel me? I'll write a graphic page\nEscort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\nWe the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (Don't get no realer than this)\nIt's more real than any words I can muster\nPull the black Cadillac trucks up (What?)\nHop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug, life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cuz we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nSilk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\nHalle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\nSilk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\nAnd I'll front like my doo doo don't stink\nInstinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\nHazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\nEverybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\nJust to think, that was yesterday's action\n'Cuz today goes either way, we came a long way\nFrom hallway steps and hand me down shit\nFuck my foes, I seen the other side, NexTel cell roam\nCall the chopper phone, heliport in my home, Quincy Jones posters\nWake up, guns under my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\nShit is better than a novel, autobiographic\nSpit it on tracks, it becomes classic\nStart some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\nNastradamus, last one to blast when the NARC's come\nKnow how to leave anythin' in thirty seconds\nWhen you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\nI'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\nYour flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\nCremate your flesh to ashes\nYou don't need a suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug, life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cuz we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nThug life is mine\nThug life is mine\nThug life is mine\nIll Will\nYou need to give it up, we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want, we don't give a fuck\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up, we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want, thug life is mine","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.01] Shit\n[00:05.67] Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah\n[00:10.91] Yo, you know it\n[00:12.52] Infamous ninety nine\n[00:15.24] Infamous two thousand\n[00:16.85] Ain't nuttin but thugs over here baby\n[00:21.11] Yo\n[00:23.25] Straight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\n[00:26.48] Like the terminal ill takin' they last breath\n[00:28.83] Read your last rites, God forgive me\n[00:30.76] For the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\n[00:33.25] Kill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\n[00:35.39] Readin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\n[00:37.92] Keep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\n[00:40.36] Hearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\n[00:43.17] Sleep with half closed eyelids\n[00:44.85] Some say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\n[00:47.56] Go easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\n[00:49.90] Niggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\n[00:52.47] Scopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District Jeweller\n[00:55.83] With they hand on the biscuit\n[00:57.50] Do ya, wanna get caught lifted, or sober, so you can react quick?\n[01:01.67] Blow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\n[01:04.85] On my thousand dollar mattress\n[01:06.42] It's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\n[01:09.10] A moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n[01:12.45] Y'all need to give it up\n[01:15.11] We don't give a fuck\n[01:17.58] What y'all niggas want\n[01:19.41] Thug, life is mine\n[01:21.86] Y'all need to give it up\n[01:24.28] 'Cuz we don't give a fuck\n[01:26.89] What y'all niggas want\n[01:28.67] Thug life is mine\n[01:30.20] I got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\n[01:32.63] If it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (Very-very)\n[01:35.01] The streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\n[01:38.01] So when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\n[01:40.18] Keep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\n[01:41.80] Been through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\n[01:44.75] Apply street rules to the office, high performance\n[01:47.45] Rap author, made millions off of\n[01:49.55] Melodic, hypnotic productions\n[01:51.75] That'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (You feel me? You feel me?)\n[01:54.48] You feel me? I'll write a graphic page\n[01:56.32] Escort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\n[01:58.92] We the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (Don't get no realer than this)\n[02:01.83] It's more real than any words I can muster\n[02:04.08] Pull the black Cadillac trucks up (What?)\n[02:05.83] Hop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n[02:09.30] Y'all need to give it up\n[02:12.32] We don't give a fuck\n[02:14.63] What y'all niggas want\n[02:16.28] Thug, life is mine\n[02:18.98] Y'all need to give it up\n[02:21.35] 'Cuz we don't give a fuck\n[02:24.09] What y'all niggas want\n[02:25.93] Thug life is mine\n[02:27.07] Silk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\n[02:29.26] Halle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\n[02:32.35] Silk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\n[02:35.23] And I'll front like my doo doo don't stink\n[02:37.35] Instinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\n[02:40.24] Hazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\n[02:42.00] Everybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\n[02:45.06] Just to think, that was yesterday's action\n[02:46.67] 'Cuz today goes either way, we came a long way\n[02:49.21] From hallway steps and hand me down shit\n[02:51.18] Fuck my foes, I seen the other side, NexTel cell roam\n[02:54.05] Call the chopper phone, heliport in my home, Quincy Jones posters\n[02:57.61] Wake up, guns under my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\n[03:01.23] Shit is better than a novel, autobiographic\n[03:03.31] Spit it on tracks, it becomes classic\n[03:05.57] Start some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n[03:08.29] Nastradamus, last one to blast when the NARC's come\n[03:10.99] Know how to leave anythin' in thirty seconds\n[03:13.09] When you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\n[03:15.32] I'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\n[03:17.83] Your flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\n[03:20.48] Cremate your flesh to ashes\n[03:21.95] You don't need a suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n[03:25.74] Y'all need to give it up\n[03:28.60] We don't give a fuck\n[03:30.79] What y'all niggas want\n[03:32.62] Thug, life is mine\n[03:35.58] Y'all need to give it up\n[03:37.95] 'Cuz we don't give a fuck\n[03:40.62] What y'all niggas want\n[03:42.21] Thug life is mine\n[03:46.92] Thug life is mine\n[03:51.89] Thug life is mine\n[03:56.97] Thug life is mine\n[03:59.95] Ill Will\n[04:01.84] You need to give it up, we don't give a fuck\n[04:06.81] What y'all niggas want, we don't give a fuck\n[04:10.95] Thug life is mine\n[04:13.80] Y'all need to give it up, we don't give a fuck\n[04:18.88] What y'all niggas want, thug life is mine\n[04:22.56] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: It's Mine (feat. Nas)\n artist: Mobb Deep\n album: Mobb Muzik (Clean Version)\n duration_ms: 253000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Shit\n start_ms: 10\n end_ms: 5670\n- text: Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah\n start_ms: 5670\n end_ms: 10910\n- text: Yo, you know it\n start_ms: 10910\n end_ms: 12520\n- text: Infamous ninety nine\n start_ms: 12520\n end_ms: 15240\n- text: Infamous two thousand\n start_ms: 15240\n end_ms: 16850\n- text: Ain't nuttin but thugs over here baby\n start_ms: 16850\n end_ms: 21110\n- text: Yo\n start_ms: 21110\n end_ms: 23250\n- text: Straight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\n start_ms: 23250\n end_ms: 26480\n- text: Like the terminal ill takin' they last breath\n start_ms: 26480\n end_ms: 28830\n- text: Read your last rites, God forgive me\n start_ms: 28830\n end_ms: 30760\n- text: For the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\n start_ms: 30760\n end_ms: 33250\n- text: Kill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\n start_ms: 33250\n end_ms: 35390\n- text: Readin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\n start_ms: 35390\n end_ms: 37920\n- text: Keep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\n start_ms: 37920\n end_ms: 40360\n- text: Hearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\n start_ms: 40360\n end_ms: 43170\n- text: Sleep with half closed eyelids\n start_ms: 43170\n end_ms: 44850\n- text: Some say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\n start_ms: 44850\n end_ms: 47560\n- text: Go easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\n start_ms: 47560\n end_ms: 49900\n- text: Niggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\n start_ms: 49900\n end_ms: 52470\n- text: Scopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District Jeweller\n start_ms: 52470\n end_ms: 55830\n- text: With they hand on the biscuit\n start_ms: 55830\n end_ms: 57500\n- text: Do ya, wanna get caught lifted, or sober, so you can react quick?\n start_ms: 57500\n end_ms: 61670\n- text: Blow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\n start_ms: 61670\n end_ms: 64850\n- text: On my thousand dollar mattress\n start_ms: 64850\n end_ms: 66420\n- text: It's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\n start_ms: 66420\n end_ms: 69100\n- text: A moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n start_ms: 69100\n end_ms: 72450\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 72450\n end_ms: 75110\n- text: We don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 75110\n end_ms: 77580\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 77580\n end_ms: 79410\n- text: Thug, life is mine\n start_ms: 79410\n end_ms: 81860\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 81860\n end_ms: 84280\n- text: '''Cuz we don''t give a fuck'\n start_ms: 84280\n end_ms: 86890\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 86890\n end_ms: 88670\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 88670\n end_ms: 90200\n- text: I got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\n start_ms: 90200\n end_ms: 92630\n- text: If it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (Very-very)\n start_ms: 92630\n end_ms: 95010\n- text: The streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\n start_ms: 95010\n end_ms: 98010\n- text: So when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\n start_ms: 98010\n end_ms: 100180\n- text: Keep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\n start_ms: 100180\n end_ms: 101800\n- text: Been through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\n start_ms: 101800\n end_ms: 104750\n- text: Apply street rules to the office, high performance\n start_ms: 104750\n end_ms: 107450\n- text: Rap author, made millions off of\n start_ms: 107450\n end_ms: 109550\n- text: Melodic, hypnotic productions\n start_ms: 109550\n end_ms: 111750\n- text: That'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (You feel me? You feel me?)\n start_ms: 111750\n end_ms: 114480\n- text: You feel me? I'll write a graphic page\n start_ms: 114480\n end_ms: 116320\n- text: Escort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\n start_ms: 116320\n end_ms: 118920\n- text: We the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (Don't get no realer than this)\n start_ms: 118920\n end_ms: 121830\n- text: It's more real than any words I can muster\n start_ms: 121830\n end_ms: 124080\n- text: Pull the black Cadillac trucks up (What?)\n start_ms: 124080\n end_ms: 125830\n- text: Hop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n start_ms: 125830\n end_ms: 129300\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 129300\n end_ms: 132320\n- text: We don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 132320\n end_ms: 134630\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 134630\n end_ms: 136280\n- text: Thug, life is mine\n start_ms: 136280\n end_ms: 138980\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 138980\n end_ms: 141350\n- text: '''Cuz we don''t give a fuck'\n start_ms: 141350\n end_ms: 144090\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 144090\n end_ms: 145930\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 145930\n end_ms: 147070\n- text: Silk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\n start_ms: 147070\n end_ms: 149260\n- text: Halle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\n start_ms: 149260\n end_ms: 152350\n- text: Silk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\n start_ms: 152350\n end_ms: 155230\n- text: And I'll front like my doo doo don't stink\n start_ms: 155230\n end_ms: 157350\n- text: Instinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\n start_ms: 157350\n end_ms: 160240\n- text: Hazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\n start_ms: 160240\n end_ms: 162000\n- text: Everybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\n start_ms: 162000\n end_ms: 165060\n- text: Just to think, that was yesterday's action\n start_ms: 165060\n end_ms: 166670\n- text: '''Cuz today goes either way, we came a long way'\n start_ms: 166670\n end_ms: 169210\n- text: From hallway steps and hand me down shit\n start_ms: 169210\n end_ms: 171180\n- text: Fuck my foes, I seen the other side, NexTel cell roam\n start_ms: 171180\n end_ms: 174050\n- text: Call the chopper phone, heliport in my home, Quincy Jones posters\n start_ms: 174050\n end_ms: 177610\n- text: Wake up, guns under my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\n start_ms: 177610\n end_ms: 181230\n- text: Shit is better than a novel, autobiographic\n start_ms: 181230\n end_ms: 183310\n- text: Spit it on tracks, it becomes classic\n start_ms: 183310\n end_ms: 185570\n- text: Start some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n start_ms: 185570\n end_ms: 188290\n- text: Nastradamus, last one to blast when the NARC's come\n start_ms: 188290\n end_ms: 190990\n- text: Know how to leave anythin' in thirty seconds\n start_ms: 190990\n end_ms: 193090\n- text: When you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\n start_ms: 193090\n end_ms: 195320\n- text: I'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\n start_ms: 195320\n end_ms: 197830\n- text: Your flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\n start_ms: 197830\n end_ms: 200480\n- text: Cremate your flesh to ashes\n start_ms: 200480\n end_ms: 201950\n- text: You don't need a suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n start_ms: 201950\n end_ms: 205740\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 205740\n end_ms: 208600\n- text: We don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 208600\n end_ms: 210790\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 210790\n end_ms: 212620\n- text: Thug, life is mine\n start_ms: 212620\n end_ms: 215580\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 215580\n end_ms: 217950\n- text: '''Cuz we don''t give a fuck'\n start_ms: 217950\n end_ms: 220620\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 220620\n end_ms: 222210\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 222210\n end_ms: 226920\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 226920\n end_ms: 231890\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 231890\n end_ms: 236970\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 236970\n end_ms: 239950\n- text: Ill Will\n start_ms: 239950\n end_ms: 241840\n- text: You need to give it up, we don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 241840\n end_ms: 246810\n- text: What y'all niggas want, we don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 246810\n end_ms: 250950\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 250950\n end_ms: 253800\n- text: Y'all need to give it up, we don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 253800\n end_ms: 258880\n- text: What y'all niggas want, thug life is mine\n start_ms: 258880\n end_ms: 262560\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 262560\nplain: |-\n Shit\n Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah\n Yo, you know it\n Infamous ninety nine\n Infamous two thousand\n Ain't nuttin but thugs over here baby\n Yo\n\n Straight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\n Like the terminal ill takin' they last breath\n Read your last rites, God forgive me\n For the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\n Kill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\n Readin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\n Keep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\n Hearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\n Sleep with half closed eyelids\n Some say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\n Go easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\n Niggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\n Scopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District Jeweller\n With they hand on the biscuit\n Do ya, wanna get caught lifted, or sober, so you can react quick?\n Blow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\n On my thousand dollar mattress\n It's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\n A moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug, life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cuz we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n I got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\n If it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (Very-very)\n The streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\n So when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\n Keep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\n Been through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\n Apply street rules to the office, high performance\n Rap author, made millions off of\n Melodic, hypnotic productions\n That'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (You feel me? You feel me?)\n You feel me? I'll write a graphic page\n Escort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\n We the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (Don't get no realer than this)\n It's more real than any words I can muster\n Pull the black Cadillac trucks up (What?)\n Hop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug, life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cuz we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n Silk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\n Halle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\n Silk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\n And I'll front like my doo doo don't stink\n Instinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\n Hazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\n Everybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\n Just to think, that was yesterday's action\n 'Cuz today goes either way, we came a long way\n From hallway steps and hand me down shit\n Fuck my foes, I seen the other side, NexTel cell roam\n Call the chopper phone, heliport in my home, Quincy Jones posters\n Wake up, guns under my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\n Shit is better than a novel, autobiographic\n Spit it on tracks, it becomes classic\n Start some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n Nastradamus, last one to blast when the NARC's come\n Know how to leave anythin' in thirty seconds\n When you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\n I'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\n Your flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\n Cremate your flesh to ashes\n You don't need a suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug, life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cuz we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n Thug life is mine\n Thug life is mine\n Thug life is mine\n Ill Will\n You need to give it up, we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want, we don't give a fuck\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up, we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want, thug life is mine\n"},{"id":11613568,"name":"Quiet Storm (remix)","trackName":"Quiet Storm (remix)","artistName":"Mobb Deep","albumName":"It's Mine","duration":243.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"In broad daylight get right.\nJust been through it all man\nBlood sweat and tears\nNiggaz is dead and shit {*music fades in*}\nWhat the fuck else can happen yo?\nWe done seen it all, and been through it all yo\nLet y'all niggaz know right now\nWord to mother, for real, for real\nThat shit is the truth\nI'm not lyin.\n\nI put my lifetime in between the paper's lines\nI'm the \"Quiet Storm\" nigga who fight rhyme\nP yeah you heard of him but, I ain't concerned with them\nNigga I pop more guns than you holdin them\nMake my route while the sun's out and scold your men\nUnload ten, in broad daylight, get right\nFuck your life - hop on my ninety-eight dirt bike\nYou try to stop mines from growin, I'll make your blood stop flowin\nTake affirmative action, to any ass if he askin (yeah aight)\nNow here come the mack 10\nYou'se a dick blower, tryin to speak the Dunn language\nWhat the drilly with that though? It ain't bangin\nYou hooked on Mobb-phonics Infamous-bonics\nLyin to the Pop Dog like you got it\nYou ain't no wildin out for the night fist thrower\nRusty shank holder, we live this shit\n\nCause it's the real shit, shit to make em feel shit (the real)\nLump em in the club shit, have you wildin out when you bump this\n(hip-hop *echoes*) Drugs to your eardrum, the raw uncut\nHave a nigga OD cause it's never enough\nIt's the real shit, shit to make em feel shit (the real)\nLump em in the club shit, have you wildin out when you bump this\n(hip-hop *echoes*) Drugs to your eardrum, the raw uncut\nHave a nigga OD cause it's never enough\n\nYo the P rock forty inch cables, drinkin white label\nMy chain hang down to my dick, my piece bang glass tables\nDiamonds and guns before the fame Duke\nA nigga like me hold tecs, are you the same too?\nGoin through the emotions, of gun holdin\nLong shotguns down my pants leg limpin\nKiller bee who still livin, even my pops too\nHe taught me how to shoot when I was seven (yup)\nI used to bust shots crazy\nI couldn't even look because the loud sound used to scare me (POW!)\nI love my pops for that, I love my nigga D-Black\nI'll take the life of anybody tryin to change what's left\nAnd through all of that a nigga ain't scared of death\nAll y'all brand new niggaz just scared to death\nI spent too many night sniffin coke, gettin right\nwastin my life, now I'm tryin to make things right\nGrand open some gates, invest, in Iraq business\nDo things for the kids (the little Dunns)\nBuild a jungle gym behind the crib, so they can enjoy youth\nCBR's and VCR's\nATV's and big screen TV's, nigga please\nDon't make me have to risk my freedom\nWe worked our whole life for this, you get your shit beat in\nFor real. (yo)\n\nCause it's the real shit, shit to make em feel shit\nLump em in the club shit, have you wildin out when you bump this\nDrugs to your eardrum, the raw uncut\nHave a nigga OD cause it's never enough\n\nIt go one, two, three to the fourth\nThat nigga P-Double got that shit\nfor y'alls peoples to rock to, stirrin up pots of brew\nin hell's kitchen, I chef the impossible\nTo serve hot plates all across the unified states\nSit down and sup with top rap reps\nWe the streets that's watchin boy move diligent\nYou better walk like a nigga on the tight rope Duke\nInfamous first infantry, first division fourth mission\nFirst assignment -- give em that shit they been missin\nMy new edition's way bitch\nThose that listen, get addicted to my diction\nFuck rhymes I write prescriptions, for your diseased\ngeneric rap's just not potent like P's\nOne-thousand one-hundred CC's on the throttle\nI peel off chest naked on Katanas\nSpaghetti head Mobb niggaz is full bred\nFully blown melanin tone, I rock skeleton bone shirts\nand verses, but thirst for worse beats\nSo I can put, more product out on the street\nGet respect and love, all across the board\nWe've been adored, for keepin it raw, nuttin less or more\nI score everytime for sure\nwhile the rest of y'all niggaz just nil\n(To the real)\n\nCause it's the real shit, shit to make em feel shit (hip-hop *echoes*)\nLump em in the club shit, have you wildin out when you bump this\nDrugs to your eardrum, the raw uncut\nHave a nigga OD cause it's never enough\nIt's the real shit, shit to make em feel shit (the real)\nLump em in the club shit, have you wildin out when you bump this\n(hip-hop *echoes*) Drugs to your eardrum, the raw uncut\nHave a nigga OD cause it's never enough\n(the real... hip-hop)","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.08] In broad daylight get right.\n[00:11.95] Just been through it all man\n[00:14.41] Blood sweat and tears\n[00:18.33] Niggaz is dead and shit {*music fades in*}\n[00:22.91] What the fuck else can happen yo?\n[00:24.47] We done seen it all, and been through it all yo\n[00:33.99] Let y'all niggaz know right now\n[00:36.00] Word to mother, for real, for real\n[00:39.20] That shit is the truth\n[00:40.43] I'm not lyin.\n[00:42.73] I put my lifetime in between the paper's lines\n[00:46.68] I'm the \"Quiet Storm\" nigga who fight rhyme\n[00:48.25] P yeah you heard of him but, I ain't concerned with them\n[00:51.04] Nigga I pop more guns than you holdin them\n[00:52.40] Make my route while the sun's out and scold your men\n[00:56.19] Unload ten, in broad daylight, get right\n[00:59.12] Fuck your life - hop on my ninety-eight dirt bike\n[01:01.58] You try to stop mines from growin, I'll make your blood stop flowin\n[01:05.15] Take affirmative action, to any ass if he askin (yeah aight)\n[01:10.33] Now here come the mack 10\n[01:10.81] You'se a dick blower, tryin to speak the Dunn language\n[01:13.12] What the drilly with that though? It ain't bangin\n[01:16.59] You hooked on Mobb-phonics Infamous-bonics\n[01:17.77] Lyin to the Pop Dog like you got it\n[01:20.25] You ain't no wildin out for the night fist thrower\n[01:21.94] Rusty shank holder, we live this shit\n[01:24.01] Cause it's the real shit, shit to make em feel shit (the real)\n[01:26.35] Lump em in the club shit, have you wildin out when you bump this\n[01:29.20] (hip-hop *echoes*) Drugs to your eardrum, the raw uncut\n[01:31.68] Have a nigga OD cause it's never enough\n[01:34.06] It's the real shit, shit to make em feel shit (the real)\n[01:36.28] Lump em in the club shit, have you wildin out when you bump this\n[01:38.64] (hip-hop *echoes*) Drugs to your eardrum, the raw uncut\n[01:41.48] Have a nigga OD cause it's never enough\n[01:43.62] Yo the P rock forty inch cables, drinkin white label\n[01:45.95] My chain hang down to my dick, my piece bang glass tables\n[01:47.16] Diamonds and guns before the fame Duke\n[01:48.31] A nigga like me hold tecs, are you the same too?\n[01:49.65] Goin through the emotions, of gun holdin\n[01:51.05] Long shotguns down my pants leg limpin\n[01:52.23] Killer bee who still livin, even my pops too\n[01:53.78] He taught me how to shoot when I was seven (yup)\n[01:55.04] I used to bust shots crazy\n[01:56.29] I couldn't even look because the loud sound used to scare me (POW!)\n[01:57.82] I love my pops for that, I love my nigga D-Black\n[01:59.04] I'll take the life of anybody tryin to change what's left\n[02:01.08] And through all of that a nigga ain't scared of death\n[02:02.15] All y'all brand new niggaz just scared to death\n[02:03.23] I spent too many night sniffin coke, gettin right\n[02:05.43] wastin my life, now I'm tryin to make things right\n[02:07.18] Grand open some gates, invest, in Iraq business\n[02:09.25] Do things for the kids (the little Dunns)\n[02:11.05] Build a jungle gym behind the crib, so they can enjoy youth\n[02:13.98] CBR's and VCR's\n[02:14.52] ATV's and big screen TV's, nigga please\n[02:17.01] Don't make me have to risk my freedom\n[02:18.01] We worked our whole life for this, you get your shit beat in\n[02:21.45] For real. (yo)\n[02:22.06] Cause it's the real shit, shit to make em feel shit\n[02:25.42] Lump em in the club shit, have you wildin out when you bump this\n[02:28.52] Drugs to your eardrum, the raw uncut\n[02:30.63] Have a nigga OD cause it's never enough\n[02:32.81] It go one, two, three to the fourth\n[02:34.28] That nigga P-Double got that shit\n[02:36.52] for y'alls peoples to rock to, stirrin up pots of brew\n[02:38.83] in hell's kitchen, I chef the impossible\n[02:40.43] To serve hot plates all across the unified states\n[02:42.49] Sit down and sup with top rap reps\n[02:43.65] We the streets that's watchin boy move diligent\n[02:48.09] You better walk like a nigga on the tight rope Duke\n[02:52.44] Infamous first infantry, first division fourth mission\n[02:56.19] First assignment -- give em that shit they been missin\n[02:58.37] My new edition's way bitch\n[02:58.88] Those that listen, get addicted to my diction\n[03:00.28] Fuck rhymes I write prescriptions, for your diseased\n[03:02.40] generic rap's just not potent like P's\n[03:06.83] One-thousand one-hundred CC's on the throttle\n[03:08.87] I peel off chest naked on Katanas\n[03:09.76] Spaghetti head Mobb niggaz is full bred\n[03:11.46] Fully blown melanin tone, I rock skeleton bone shirts\n[03:13.21] and verses, but thirst for worse beats\n[03:14.24] So I can put, more product out on the street\n[03:15.72] Get respect and love, all across the board\n[03:17.27] We've been adored, for keepin it raw, nuttin less or more\n[03:19.11] I score everytime for sure\n[03:20.05] while the rest of y'all niggaz just nil\n[03:21.98] (To the real)\n[03:22.03] Cause it's the real shit, shit to make em feel shit (hip-hop *echoes*)\n[03:24.59] Lump em in the club shit, have you wildin out when you bump this\n[03:27.55] Drugs to your eardrum, the raw uncut\n[03:29.76] Have a nigga OD cause it's never enough\n[03:32.21] It's the real shit, shit to make em feel shit (the real)\n[03:34.38] Lump em in the club shit, have you wildin out when you bump this\n[03:36.87] (hip-hop *echoes*) Drugs to your eardrum, the raw uncut\n[03:39.69] Have a nigga OD cause it's never enough\n[03:44.01] (the real... hip-hop)\n[03:47.20] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Quiet Storm (remix)\n artist: Mobb Deep\n album: It's Mine\n duration_ms: 243000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: In broad daylight get right.\n start_ms: 80\n end_ms: 11950\n- text: Just been through it all man\n start_ms: 11950\n end_ms: 14410\n- text: Blood sweat and tears\n start_ms: 14410\n end_ms: 18330\n- text: Niggaz is dead and shit {*music fades in*}\n start_ms: 18330\n end_ms: 22910\n- text: What the fuck else can happen yo?\n start_ms: 22910\n end_ms: 24470\n- text: We done seen it all, and been through it all yo\n start_ms: 24470\n end_ms: 33990\n- text: Let y'all niggaz know right now\n start_ms: 33990\n end_ms: 36000\n- text: Word to mother, for real, for real\n start_ms: 36000\n end_ms: 39200\n- text: That shit is the truth\n start_ms: 39200\n end_ms: 40430\n- text: I'm not lyin.\n start_ms: 40430\n end_ms: 42730\n- text: I put my lifetime in between the paper's lines\n start_ms: 42730\n end_ms: 46680\n- text: I'm the \"Quiet Storm\" nigga who fight rhyme\n start_ms: 46680\n end_ms: 48250\n- text: P yeah you heard of him but, I ain't concerned with them\n start_ms: 48250\n end_ms: 51040\n- text: Nigga I pop more guns than you holdin them\n start_ms: 51040\n end_ms: 52400\n- text: Make my route while the sun's out and scold your men\n start_ms: 52400\n end_ms: 56190\n- text: Unload ten, in broad daylight, get right\n start_ms: 56190\n end_ms: 59120\n- text: Fuck your life - hop on my ninety-eight dirt bike\n start_ms: 59120\n end_ms: 61580\n- text: You try to stop mines from growin, I'll make your blood stop flowin\n start_ms: 61580\n end_ms: 65150\n- text: Take affirmative action, to any ass if he askin (yeah aight)\n start_ms: 65150\n end_ms: 70330\n- text: Now here come the mack 10\n start_ms: 70330\n end_ms: 70810\n- text: You'se a dick blower, tryin to speak the Dunn language\n start_ms: 70810\n end_ms: 73120\n- text: What the drilly with that though? It ain't bangin\n start_ms: 73120\n end_ms: 76590\n- text: You hooked on Mobb-phonics Infamous-bonics\n start_ms: 76590\n end_ms: 77770\n- text: Lyin to the Pop Dog like you got it\n start_ms: 77770\n end_ms: 80250\n- text: You ain't no wildin out for the night fist thrower\n start_ms: 80250\n end_ms: 81940\n- text: Rusty shank holder, we live this shit\n start_ms: 81940\n end_ms: 84010\n- text: Cause it's the real shit, shit to make em feel shit (the real)\n start_ms: 84010\n end_ms: 86350\n- text: Lump em in the club shit, have you wildin out when you bump this\n start_ms: 86350\n end_ms: 89200\n- text: (hip-hop *echoes*) Drugs to your eardrum, the raw uncut\n start_ms: 89200\n end_ms: 91680\n- text: Have a nigga OD cause it's never enough\n start_ms: 91680\n end_ms: 94060\n- text: It's the real shit, shit to make em feel shit (the real)\n start_ms: 94060\n end_ms: 96280\n- text: Lump em in the club shit, have you wildin out when you bump this\n start_ms: 96280\n end_ms: 98640\n- text: (hip-hop *echoes*) Drugs to your eardrum, the raw uncut\n start_ms: 98640\n end_ms: 101480\n- text: Have a nigga OD cause it's never enough\n start_ms: 101480\n end_ms: 103620\n- text: Yo the P rock forty inch cables, drinkin white label\n start_ms: 103620\n end_ms: 105950\n- text: My chain hang down to my dick, my piece bang glass tables\n start_ms: 105950\n end_ms: 107160\n- text: Diamonds and guns before the fame Duke\n start_ms: 107160\n end_ms: 108310\n- text: A nigga like me hold tecs, are you the same too?\n start_ms: 108310\n end_ms: 109650\n- text: Goin through the emotions, of gun holdin\n start_ms: 109650\n end_ms: 111050\n- text: Long shotguns down my pants leg limpin\n start_ms: 111050\n end_ms: 112230\n- text: Killer bee who still livin, even my pops too\n start_ms: 112230\n end_ms: 113780\n- text: He taught me how to shoot when I was seven (yup)\n start_ms: 113780\n end_ms: 115040\n- text: I used to bust shots crazy\n start_ms: 115040\n end_ms: 116290\n- text: I couldn't even look because the loud sound used to scare me (POW!)\n start_ms: 116290\n end_ms: 117820\n- text: I love my pops for that, I love my nigga D-Black\n start_ms: 117820\n end_ms: 119040\n- text: I'll take the life of anybody tryin to change what's left\n start_ms: 119040\n end_ms: 121080\n- text: And through all of that a nigga ain't scared of death\n start_ms: 121080\n end_ms: 122150\n- text: All y'all brand new niggaz just scared to death\n start_ms: 122150\n end_ms: 123230\n- text: I spent too many night sniffin coke, gettin right\n start_ms: 123230\n end_ms: 125430\n- text: wastin my life, now I'm tryin to make things right\n start_ms: 125430\n end_ms: 127180\n- text: Grand open some gates, invest, in Iraq business\n start_ms: 127180\n end_ms: 129250\n- text: Do things for the kids (the little Dunns)\n start_ms: 129250\n end_ms: 131050\n- text: Build a jungle gym behind the crib, so they can enjoy youth\n start_ms: 131050\n end_ms: 133980\n- text: CBR's and VCR's\n start_ms: 133980\n end_ms: 134520\n- text: ATV's and big screen TV's, nigga please\n start_ms: 134520\n end_ms: 137010\n- text: Don't make me have to risk my freedom\n start_ms: 137010\n end_ms: 138010\n- text: We worked our whole life for this, you get your shit beat in\n start_ms: 138010\n end_ms: 141450\n- text: For real. (yo)\n start_ms: 141450\n end_ms: 142060\n- text: Cause it's the real shit, shit to make em feel shit\n start_ms: 142060\n end_ms: 145420\n- text: Lump em in the club shit, have you wildin out when you bump this\n start_ms: 145420\n end_ms: 148520\n- text: Drugs to your eardrum, the raw uncut\n start_ms: 148520\n end_ms: 150630\n- text: Have a nigga OD cause it's never enough\n start_ms: 150630\n end_ms: 152810\n- text: It go one, two, three to the fourth\n start_ms: 152810\n end_ms: 154280\n- text: That nigga P-Double got that shit\n start_ms: 154280\n end_ms: 156520\n- text: for y'alls peoples to rock to, stirrin up pots of brew\n start_ms: 156520\n end_ms: 158830\n- text: in hell's kitchen, I chef the impossible\n start_ms: 158830\n end_ms: 160430\n- text: To serve hot plates all across the unified states\n start_ms: 160430\n end_ms: 162490\n- text: Sit down and sup with top rap reps\n start_ms: 162490\n end_ms: 163650\n- text: We the streets that's watchin boy move diligent\n start_ms: 163650\n end_ms: 168090\n- text: You better walk like a nigga on the tight rope Duke\n start_ms: 168090\n end_ms: 172440\n- text: Infamous first infantry, first division fourth mission\n start_ms: 172440\n end_ms: 176190\n- text: First assignment -- give em that shit they been missin\n start_ms: 176190\n end_ms: 178370\n- text: My new edition's way bitch\n start_ms: 178370\n end_ms: 178880\n- text: Those that listen, get addicted to my diction\n start_ms: 178880\n end_ms: 180280\n- text: Fuck rhymes I write prescriptions, for your diseased\n start_ms: 180280\n end_ms: 182400\n- text: generic rap's just not potent like P's\n start_ms: 182400\n end_ms: 186830\n- text: One-thousand one-hundred CC's on the throttle\n start_ms: 186830\n end_ms: 188870\n- text: I peel off chest naked on Katanas\n start_ms: 188870\n end_ms: 189760\n- text: Spaghetti head Mobb niggaz is full bred\n start_ms: 189760\n end_ms: 191460\n- text: Fully blown melanin tone, I rock skeleton bone shirts\n start_ms: 191460\n end_ms: 193210\n- text: and verses, but thirst for worse beats\n start_ms: 193210\n end_ms: 194240\n- text: So I can put, more product out on the street\n start_ms: 194240\n end_ms: 195720\n- text: Get respect and love, all across the board\n start_ms: 195720\n end_ms: 197270\n- text: We've been adored, for keepin it raw, nuttin less or more\n start_ms: 197270\n end_ms: 199110\n- text: I score everytime for sure\n start_ms: 199110\n end_ms: 200050\n- text: while the rest of y'all niggaz just nil\n start_ms: 200050\n end_ms: 201980\n- text: (To the real)\n start_ms: 201980\n end_ms: 202030\n- text: Cause it's the real shit, shit to make em feel shit (hip-hop *echoes*)\n start_ms: 202030\n end_ms: 204590\n- text: Lump em in the club shit, have you wildin out when you bump this\n start_ms: 204590\n end_ms: 207550\n- text: Drugs to your eardrum, the raw uncut\n start_ms: 207550\n end_ms: 209760\n- text: Have a nigga OD cause it's never enough\n start_ms: 209760\n end_ms: 212210\n- text: It's the real shit, shit to make em feel shit (the real)\n start_ms: 212210\n end_ms: 214380\n- text: Lump em in the club shit, have you wildin out when you bump this\n start_ms: 214380\n end_ms: 216870\n- text: (hip-hop *echoes*) Drugs to your eardrum, the raw uncut\n start_ms: 216870\n end_ms: 219690\n- text: Have a nigga OD cause it's never enough\n start_ms: 219690\n end_ms: 224010\n- text: (the real... hip-hop)\n start_ms: 224010\n end_ms: 227200\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 227200\nplain: |-\n In broad daylight get right.\n Just been through it all man\n Blood sweat and tears\n Niggaz is dead and shit {*music fades in*}\n What the fuck else can happen yo?\n We done seen it all, and been through it all yo\n Let y'all niggaz know right now\n Word to mother, for real, for real\n That shit is the truth\n I'm not lyin.\n\n I put my lifetime in between the paper's lines\n I'm the \"Quiet Storm\" nigga who fight rhyme\n P yeah you heard of him but, I ain't concerned with them\n Nigga I pop more guns than you holdin them\n Make my route while the sun's out and scold your men\n Unload ten, in broad daylight, get right\n Fuck your life - hop on my ninety-eight dirt bike\n You try to stop mines from growin, I'll make your blood stop flowin\n Take affirmative action, to any ass if he askin (yeah aight)\n Now here come the mack 10\n You'se a dick blower, tryin to speak the Dunn language\n What the drilly with that though? It ain't bangin\n You hooked on Mobb-phonics Infamous-bonics\n Lyin to the Pop Dog like you got it\n You ain't no wildin out for the night fist thrower\n Rusty shank holder, we live this shit\n\n Cause it's the real shit, shit to make em feel shit (the real)\n Lump em in the club shit, have you wildin out when you bump this\n (hip-hop *echoes*) Drugs to your eardrum, the raw uncut\n Have a nigga OD cause it's never enough\n It's the real shit, shit to make em feel shit (the real)\n Lump em in the club shit, have you wildin out when you bump this\n (hip-hop *echoes*) Drugs to your eardrum, the raw uncut\n Have a nigga OD cause it's never enough\n\n Yo the P rock forty inch cables, drinkin white label\n My chain hang down to my dick, my piece bang glass tables\n Diamonds and guns before the fame Duke\n A nigga like me hold tecs, are you the same too?\n Goin through the emotions, of gun holdin\n Long shotguns down my pants leg limpin\n Killer bee who still livin, even my pops too\n He taught me how to shoot when I was seven (yup)\n I used to bust shots crazy\n I couldn't even look because the loud sound used to scare me (POW!)\n I love my pops for that, I love my nigga D-Black\n I'll take the life of anybody tryin to change what's left\n And through all of that a nigga ain't scared of death\n All y'all brand new niggaz just scared to death\n I spent too many night sniffin coke, gettin right\n wastin my life, now I'm tryin to make things right\n Grand open some gates, invest, in Iraq business\n Do things for the kids (the little Dunns)\n Build a jungle gym behind the crib, so they can enjoy youth\n CBR's and VCR's\n ATV's and big screen TV's, nigga please\n Don't make me have to risk my freedom\n We worked our whole life for this, you get your shit beat in\n For real. (yo)\n\n Cause it's the real shit, shit to make em feel shit\n Lump em in the club shit, have you wildin out when you bump this\n Drugs to your eardrum, the raw uncut\n Have a nigga OD cause it's never enough\n\n It go one, two, three to the fourth\n That nigga P-Double got that shit\n for y'alls peoples to rock to, stirrin up pots of brew\n in hell's kitchen, I chef the impossible\n To serve hot plates all across the unified states\n Sit down and sup with top rap reps\n We the streets that's watchin boy move diligent\n You better walk like a nigga on the tight rope Duke\n Infamous first infantry, first division fourth mission\n First assignment -- give em that shit they been missin\n My new edition's way bitch\n Those that listen, get addicted to my diction\n Fuck rhymes I write prescriptions, for your diseased\n generic rap's just not potent like P's\n One-thousand one-hundred CC's on the throttle\n I peel off chest naked on Katanas\n Spaghetti head Mobb niggaz is full bred\n Fully blown melanin tone, I rock skeleton bone shirts\n and verses, but thirst for worse beats\n So I can put, more product out on the street\n Get respect and love, all across the board\n We've been adored, for keepin it raw, nuttin less or more\n I score everytime for sure\n while the rest of y'all niggaz just nil\n (To the real)\n\n Cause it's the real shit, shit to make em feel shit (hip-hop *echoes*)\n Lump em in the club shit, have you wildin out when you bump this\n Drugs to your eardrum, the raw uncut\n Have a nigga OD cause it's never enough\n It's the real shit, shit to make em feel shit (the real)\n Lump em in the club shit, have you wildin out when you bump this\n (hip-hop *echoes*) Drugs to your eardrum, the raw uncut\n Have a nigga OD cause it's never enough\n (the real... hip-hop)\n"},{"id":23858546,"name":"It's Mine (Clean Version)","trackName":"It's Mine (Clean Version)","artistName":"Mobb Deep featuring Nas","albumName":"Mobb Muzik (Clean Version)","duration":253.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah, yeah (ha ha ha ha) uh-huh, yeah yeah\n(Ha ha ha ha ha ha] Huh yo, you know it\nInfamous ninety-nine (infamous ninety-nine)\n(Ha ha ha ha) Infamous two thousand\n(Ain't nuttin but thugs over here baby)\n(Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha)\nYo straight thugs on this side it's do or die to the death\nLike the terminal ill takin they last breath\nRead your last rites God, forgive me\nFor the sin I'm about to commit takin a life\nKill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\nReadin my will you feel what I feel, you know the deal\nKeep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\nHearin noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\nSleep with half closed eyelids\nSome say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\nGo easy on the bottle, niggaz love to see when\nNiggaz slippin off point, on the strength they bet\nScopin your ice, appraisin it like the Diamond District Jeweler\nWith they hand on the biscuit\nDo ya, want to get caught lifted; or sober, so you can react quick?\nBlow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin my wife\nOn my thousand dollar mattress\nIt's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\nA moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\nY'all need to give it up we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggaz want thug, life, is, mine\nY'all need to give it up 'cause we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggaz want thug, life, is mine\nI got the style of a still-born child, I'm ill\nIf it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well\n(Very very) the sreets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\nSo when they start shootin, we'll stop the music\nKeep it moving that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon Dunn)\nBeen through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin\n(Still crawlin) apply street rules to the office, high performance\nRap author, made millions off of melodic, hypnotic productions\nThat'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions\n(You feel me? You feel me?)\nYou feel me? I'll write a graphic page\nEscort niggaz to they grave, relate to the projects\nWe the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music\n(Don't get no realer than this)\nIt's more real than any words I can muster\nPull the black Cadillac trucks up (what)\nHop out them shits like what? Y'all niggaz can't touch us\nSilk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\nHalle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\nSilk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\nAnd I'll front like my doo doo don't stink\nInstinct like Cuba Gooding steppin out the latest toy\nHazard lights blinkin, gators hit the floor\nEverybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin\nJust to think, that was yesterday's action\n'Cause today goes either way we came a long way\nFrom hallway steps and hand-me-down shit\nFuck my foes, I seen the other side, NexTel cell roam\nCall the chopper phone, heliport in my home\nQuincy Jones posters\nWake up, guns under my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\nShit is better than a novel, autobiographic\nSpit it on tracks, it becomes classic\nStart some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\nNastradamus, last one to blast one when the NARC's come\nKnow how to leave anything in thirty seconds\nWhen you feel the heat, comin and flee with the murder weapon\nI'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\nYour flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\nCremate your flesh to ashes\nYou don't need a suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\nThe, life, is, mine\nI'll will\nYou need to give it up we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggaz want we don't give a fuck\nThug, life, is, mine\nY'all need to give it up we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggaz want thug, life, is, mine","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: It's Mine (Clean Version)\n artist: Mobb Deep featuring Nas\n album: Mobb Muzik (Clean Version)\n duration_ms: 253000\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n Yeah, yeah (ha ha ha ha) uh-huh, yeah yeah\n (Ha ha ha ha ha ha] Huh yo, you know it\n Infamous ninety-nine (infamous ninety-nine)\n (Ha ha ha ha) Infamous two thousand\n (Ain't nuttin but thugs over here baby)\n (Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha)\n Yo straight thugs on this side it's do or die to the death\n Like the terminal ill takin they last breath\n Read your last rites God, forgive me\n For the sin I'm about to commit takin a life\n Kill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\n Readin my will you feel what I feel, you know the deal\n Keep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\n Hearin noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\n Sleep with half closed eyelids\n Some say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\n Go easy on the bottle, niggaz love to see when\n Niggaz slippin off point, on the strength they bet\n Scopin your ice, appraisin it like the Diamond District Jeweler\n With they hand on the biscuit\n Do ya, want to get caught lifted; or sober, so you can react quick?\n Blow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin my wife\n On my thousand dollar mattress\n It's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\n A moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n Y'all need to give it up we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggaz want thug, life, is, mine\n Y'all need to give it up 'cause we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggaz want thug, life, is mine\n I got the style of a still-born child, I'm ill\n If it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well\n (Very very) the sreets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\n So when they start shootin, we'll stop the music\n Keep it moving that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon Dunn)\n Been through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin\n (Still crawlin) apply street rules to the office, high performance\n Rap author, made millions off of melodic, hypnotic productions\n That'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions\n (You feel me? You feel me?)\n You feel me? I'll write a graphic page\n Escort niggaz to they grave, relate to the projects\n We the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music\n (Don't get no realer than this)\n It's more real than any words I can muster\n Pull the black Cadillac trucks up (what)\n Hop out them shits like what? Y'all niggaz can't touch us\n Silk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\n Halle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\n Silk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\n And I'll front like my doo doo don't stink\n Instinct like Cuba Gooding steppin out the latest toy\n Hazard lights blinkin, gators hit the floor\n Everybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin\n Just to think, that was yesterday's action\n 'Cause today goes either way we came a long way\n From hallway steps and hand-me-down shit\n Fuck my foes, I seen the other side, NexTel cell roam\n Call the chopper phone, heliport in my home\n Quincy Jones posters\n Wake up, guns under my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\n Shit is better than a novel, autobiographic\n Spit it on tracks, it becomes classic\n Start some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n Nastradamus, last one to blast one when the NARC's come\n Know how to leave anything in thirty seconds\n When you feel the heat, comin and flee with the murder weapon\n I'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\n Your flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\n Cremate your flesh to ashes\n You don't need a suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n The, life, is, mine\n I'll will\n You need to give it up we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggaz want we don't give a fuck\n Thug, life, is, mine\n Y'all need to give it up we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggaz want thug, life, is, mine\n"},{"id":26431656,"name":"It's Mine Feat. Nas","trackName":"It's Mine Feat. Nas","artistName":"Mobb Deep","albumName":"DJ Keyz Deep In The Streets Bootleg","duration":162.115918,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Shit\nYeah, yeah, yeah, yeah\nYo, you know it\nInfamous ninety nine\nInfamous two thousand\nAin't nuttin but thugs over here baby\nYo\n\nStraight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\nLike the terminal ill takin' they last breath\nRead your last rites, God forgive me\nFor the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\nKill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\nReadin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\nKeep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\nHearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\nSleep with half closed eyelids\nSome say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\nGo easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\nNiggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\nScopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District Jeweller\nWith they hand on the biscuit\nDo ya, wanna get caught lifted, or sober, so you can react quick?\nBlow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\nOn my thousand dollar mattress\nIt's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\nA moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug, life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cuz we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nI got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\nIf it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (Very-very)\nThe streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\nSo when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\nKeep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\nBeen through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\nApply street rules to the office, high performance\nRap author, made millions off of\nMelodic, hypnotic productions\nThat'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (You feel me? You feel me?)\nYou feel me? I'll write a graphic page\nEscort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\nWe the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (Don't get no realer than this)\nIt's more real than any words I can muster\nPull the black Cadillac trucks up (What?)\nHop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug, life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cuz we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nSilk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\nHalle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\nSilk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\nAnd I'll front like my doo doo don't stink\nInstinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\nHazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\nEverybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\nJust to think, that was yesterday's action\n'Cuz today goes either way, we came a long way\nFrom hallway steps and hand me down shit\nFuck my foes, I seen the other side, NexTel cell roam\nCall the chopper phone, heliport in my home, Quincy Jones posters\nWake up, guns under my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\nShit is better than a novel, autobiographic\nSpit it on tracks, it becomes classic\nStart some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\nNastradamus, last one to blast when the NARC's come\nKnow how to leave anythin' in thirty seconds\nWhen you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\nI'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\nYour flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\nCremate your flesh to ashes\nYou don't need a suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug, life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cuz we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nThug life is mine\nThug life is mine\nThug life is mine\nIll Will\nYou need to give it up, we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want, we don't give a fuck\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up, we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want, thug life is mine","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.01] Shit\n[00:05.67] Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah\n[00:10.91] Yo, you know it\n[00:12.52] Infamous ninety nine\n[00:15.24] Infamous two thousand\n[00:16.85] Ain't nuttin but thugs over here baby\n[00:21.11] Yo\n[00:23.25] Straight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\n[00:26.48] Like the terminal ill takin' they last breath\n[00:28.83] Read your last rites, God forgive me\n[00:30.76] For the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\n[00:33.25] Kill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\n[00:35.39] Readin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\n[00:37.92] Keep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\n[00:40.36] Hearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\n[00:43.17] Sleep with half closed eyelids\n[00:44.85] Some say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\n[00:47.56] Go easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\n[00:49.90] Niggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\n[00:52.47] Scopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District Jeweller\n[00:55.83] With they hand on the biscuit\n[00:57.50] Do ya, wanna get caught lifted, or sober, so you can react quick?\n[01:01.67] Blow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\n[01:04.85] On my thousand dollar mattress\n[01:06.42] It's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\n[01:09.10] A moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n[01:12.45] Y'all need to give it up\n[01:15.11] We don't give a fuck\n[01:17.58] What y'all niggas want\n[01:19.41] Thug, life is mine\n[01:21.86] Y'all need to give it up\n[01:24.28] 'Cuz we don't give a fuck\n[01:26.89] What y'all niggas want\n[01:28.67] Thug life is mine\n[01:30.20] I got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\n[01:32.63] If it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (Very-very)\n[01:35.01] The streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\n[01:38.01] So when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\n[01:40.18] Keep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\n[01:41.80] Been through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\n[01:44.75] Apply street rules to the office, high performance\n[01:47.45] Rap author, made millions off of\n[01:49.55] Melodic, hypnotic productions\n[01:51.75] That'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (You feel me? You feel me?)\n[01:54.48] You feel me? I'll write a graphic page\n[01:56.32] Escort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\n[01:58.92] We the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (Don't get no realer than this)\n[02:01.83] It's more real than any words I can muster\n[02:04.08] Pull the black Cadillac trucks up (What?)\n[02:05.83] Hop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n[02:09.30] Y'all need to give it up\n[02:12.32] We don't give a fuck\n[02:14.63] What y'all niggas want\n[02:16.28] Thug, life is mine\n[02:18.98] Y'all need to give it up\n[02:21.35] 'Cuz we don't give a fuck\n[02:24.09] What y'all niggas want\n[02:25.93] Thug life is mine\n[02:27.07] Silk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\n[02:29.26] Halle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\n[02:32.35] Silk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\n[02:35.23] And I'll front like my doo doo don't stink\n[02:37.35] Instinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\n[02:40.24] Hazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\n[02:42.00] Everybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\n[02:45.06] Just to think, that was yesterday's action\n[02:46.67] 'Cuz today goes either way, we came a long way\n[02:49.21] From hallway steps and hand me down shit\n[02:51.18] Fuck my foes, I seen the other side, NexTel cell roam\n[02:54.05] Call the chopper phone, heliport in my home, Quincy Jones posters\n[02:57.61] Wake up, guns under my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\n[03:01.23] Shit is better than a novel, autobiographic\n[03:03.31] Spit it on tracks, it becomes classic\n[03:05.57] Start some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n[03:08.29] Nastradamus, last one to blast when the NARC's come\n[03:10.99] Know how to leave anythin' in thirty seconds\n[03:13.09] When you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\n[03:15.32] I'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\n[03:17.83] Your flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\n[03:20.48] Cremate your flesh to ashes\n[03:21.95] You don't need a suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n[03:25.74] Y'all need to give it up\n[03:28.60] We don't give a fuck\n[03:30.79] What y'all niggas want\n[03:32.62] Thug, life is mine\n[03:35.58] Y'all need to give it up\n[03:37.95] 'Cuz we don't give a fuck\n[03:40.62] What y'all niggas want\n[03:42.21] Thug life is mine\n[03:46.92] Thug life is mine\n[03:51.89] Thug life is mine\n[03:56.97] Thug life is mine\n[03:59.95] Ill Will\n[04:01.84] You need to give it up, we don't give a fuck\n[04:06.81] What y'all niggas want, we don't give a fuck\n[04:10.95] Thug life is mine\n[04:13.80] Y'all need to give it up, we don't give a fuck\n[04:18.88] What y'all niggas want, thug life is mine\n[04:22.56] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: It's Mine Feat. Nas\n artist: Mobb Deep\n album: DJ Keyz Deep In The Streets Bootleg\n duration_ms: 162116\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Shit\n start_ms: 10\n end_ms: 5670\n- text: Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah\n start_ms: 5670\n end_ms: 10910\n- text: Yo, you know it\n start_ms: 10910\n end_ms: 12520\n- text: Infamous ninety nine\n start_ms: 12520\n end_ms: 15240\n- text: Infamous two thousand\n start_ms: 15240\n end_ms: 16850\n- text: Ain't nuttin but thugs over here baby\n start_ms: 16850\n end_ms: 21110\n- text: Yo\n start_ms: 21110\n end_ms: 23250\n- text: Straight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\n start_ms: 23250\n end_ms: 26480\n- text: Like the terminal ill takin' they last breath\n start_ms: 26480\n end_ms: 28830\n- text: Read your last rites, God forgive me\n start_ms: 28830\n end_ms: 30760\n- text: For the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\n start_ms: 30760\n end_ms: 33250\n- text: Kill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\n start_ms: 33250\n end_ms: 35390\n- text: Readin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\n start_ms: 35390\n end_ms: 37920\n- text: Keep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\n start_ms: 37920\n end_ms: 40360\n- text: Hearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\n start_ms: 40360\n end_ms: 43170\n- text: Sleep with half closed eyelids\n start_ms: 43170\n end_ms: 44850\n- text: Some say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\n start_ms: 44850\n end_ms: 47560\n- text: Go easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\n start_ms: 47560\n end_ms: 49900\n- text: Niggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\n start_ms: 49900\n end_ms: 52470\n- text: Scopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District Jeweller\n start_ms: 52470\n end_ms: 55830\n- text: With they hand on the biscuit\n start_ms: 55830\n end_ms: 57500\n- text: Do ya, wanna get caught lifted, or sober, so you can react quick?\n start_ms: 57500\n end_ms: 61670\n- text: Blow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\n start_ms: 61670\n end_ms: 64850\n- text: On my thousand dollar mattress\n start_ms: 64850\n end_ms: 66420\n- text: It's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\n start_ms: 66420\n end_ms: 69100\n- text: A moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n start_ms: 69100\n end_ms: 72450\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 72450\n end_ms: 75110\n- text: We don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 75110\n end_ms: 77580\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 77580\n end_ms: 79410\n- text: Thug, life is mine\n start_ms: 79410\n end_ms: 81860\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 81860\n end_ms: 84280\n- text: '''Cuz we don''t give a fuck'\n start_ms: 84280\n end_ms: 86890\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 86890\n end_ms: 88670\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 88670\n end_ms: 90200\n- text: I got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\n start_ms: 90200\n end_ms: 92630\n- text: If it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (Very-very)\n start_ms: 92630\n end_ms: 95010\n- text: The streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\n start_ms: 95010\n end_ms: 98010\n- text: So when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\n start_ms: 98010\n end_ms: 100180\n- text: Keep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\n start_ms: 100180\n end_ms: 101800\n- text: Been through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\n start_ms: 101800\n end_ms: 104750\n- text: Apply street rules to the office, high performance\n start_ms: 104750\n end_ms: 107450\n- text: Rap author, made millions off of\n start_ms: 107450\n end_ms: 109550\n- text: Melodic, hypnotic productions\n start_ms: 109550\n end_ms: 111750\n- text: That'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (You feel me? You feel me?)\n start_ms: 111750\n end_ms: 114480\n- text: You feel me? I'll write a graphic page\n start_ms: 114480\n end_ms: 116320\n- text: Escort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\n start_ms: 116320\n end_ms: 118920\n- text: We the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (Don't get no realer than this)\n start_ms: 118920\n end_ms: 121830\n- text: It's more real than any words I can muster\n start_ms: 121830\n end_ms: 124080\n- text: Pull the black Cadillac trucks up (What?)\n start_ms: 124080\n end_ms: 125830\n- text: Hop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n start_ms: 125830\n end_ms: 129300\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 129300\n end_ms: 132320\n- text: We don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 132320\n end_ms: 134630\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 134630\n end_ms: 136280\n- text: Thug, life is mine\n start_ms: 136280\n end_ms: 138980\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 138980\n end_ms: 141350\n- text: '''Cuz we don''t give a fuck'\n start_ms: 141350\n end_ms: 144090\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 144090\n end_ms: 145930\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 145930\n end_ms: 147070\n- text: Silk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\n start_ms: 147070\n end_ms: 149260\n- text: Halle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\n start_ms: 149260\n end_ms: 152350\n- text: Silk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\n start_ms: 152350\n end_ms: 155230\n- text: And I'll front like my doo doo don't stink\n start_ms: 155230\n end_ms: 157350\n- text: Instinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\n start_ms: 157350\n end_ms: 160240\n- text: Hazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\n start_ms: 160240\n end_ms: 162000\n- text: Everybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\n start_ms: 162000\n end_ms: 165060\n- text: Just to think, that was yesterday's action\n start_ms: 165060\n end_ms: 166670\n- text: '''Cuz today goes either way, we came a long way'\n start_ms: 166670\n end_ms: 169210\n- text: From hallway steps and hand me down shit\n start_ms: 169210\n end_ms: 171180\n- text: Fuck my foes, I seen the other side, NexTel cell roam\n start_ms: 171180\n end_ms: 174050\n- text: Call the chopper phone, heliport in my home, Quincy Jones posters\n start_ms: 174050\n end_ms: 177610\n- text: Wake up, guns under my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\n start_ms: 177610\n end_ms: 181230\n- text: Shit is better than a novel, autobiographic\n start_ms: 181230\n end_ms: 183310\n- text: Spit it on tracks, it becomes classic\n start_ms: 183310\n end_ms: 185570\n- text: Start some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n start_ms: 185570\n end_ms: 188290\n- text: Nastradamus, last one to blast when the NARC's come\n start_ms: 188290\n end_ms: 190990\n- text: Know how to leave anythin' in thirty seconds\n start_ms: 190990\n end_ms: 193090\n- text: When you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\n start_ms: 193090\n end_ms: 195320\n- text: I'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\n start_ms: 195320\n end_ms: 197830\n- text: Your flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\n start_ms: 197830\n end_ms: 200480\n- text: Cremate your flesh to ashes\n start_ms: 200480\n end_ms: 201950\n- text: You don't need a suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n start_ms: 201950\n end_ms: 205740\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 205740\n end_ms: 208600\n- text: We don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 208600\n end_ms: 210790\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 210790\n end_ms: 212620\n- text: Thug, life is mine\n start_ms: 212620\n end_ms: 215580\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 215580\n end_ms: 217950\n- text: '''Cuz we don''t give a fuck'\n start_ms: 217950\n end_ms: 220620\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 220620\n end_ms: 222210\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 222210\n end_ms: 226920\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 226920\n end_ms: 231890\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 231890\n end_ms: 236970\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 236970\n end_ms: 239950\n- text: Ill Will\n start_ms: 239950\n end_ms: 241840\n- text: You need to give it up, we don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 241840\n end_ms: 246810\n- text: What y'all niggas want, we don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 246810\n end_ms: 250950\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 250950\n end_ms: 253800\n- text: Y'all need to give it up, we don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 253800\n end_ms: 258880\n- text: What y'all niggas want, thug life is mine\n start_ms: 258880\n end_ms: 262560\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 262560\nplain: |-\n Shit\n Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah\n Yo, you know it\n Infamous ninety nine\n Infamous two thousand\n Ain't nuttin but thugs over here baby\n Yo\n\n Straight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\n Like the terminal ill takin' they last breath\n Read your last rites, God forgive me\n For the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\n Kill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\n Readin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\n Keep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\n Hearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\n Sleep with half closed eyelids\n Some say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\n Go easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\n Niggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\n Scopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District Jeweller\n With they hand on the biscuit\n Do ya, wanna get caught lifted, or sober, so you can react quick?\n Blow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\n On my thousand dollar mattress\n It's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\n A moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug, life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cuz we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n I got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\n If it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (Very-very)\n The streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\n So when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\n Keep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\n Been through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\n Apply street rules to the office, high performance\n Rap author, made millions off of\n Melodic, hypnotic productions\n That'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (You feel me? You feel me?)\n You feel me? I'll write a graphic page\n Escort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\n We the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (Don't get no realer than this)\n It's more real than any words I can muster\n Pull the black Cadillac trucks up (What?)\n Hop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug, life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cuz we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n Silk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\n Halle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\n Silk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\n And I'll front like my doo doo don't stink\n Instinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\n Hazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\n Everybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\n Just to think, that was yesterday's action\n 'Cuz today goes either way, we came a long way\n From hallway steps and hand me down shit\n Fuck my foes, I seen the other side, NexTel cell roam\n Call the chopper phone, heliport in my home, Quincy Jones posters\n Wake up, guns under my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\n Shit is better than a novel, autobiographic\n Spit it on tracks, it becomes classic\n Start some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n Nastradamus, last one to blast when the NARC's come\n Know how to leave anythin' in thirty seconds\n When you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\n I'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\n Your flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\n Cremate your flesh to ashes\n You don't need a suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug, life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cuz we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n Thug life is mine\n Thug life is mine\n Thug life is mine\n Ill Will\n You need to give it up, we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want, we don't give a fuck\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up, we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want, thug life is mine\n"},{"id":6834547,"name":"It's Mine","trackName":"It's Mine","artistName":"Mobb Deep","albumName":"The Infamous... Instrumentals","duration":253.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah, yeah (hahahaha)\nUh-huh, yeah-yeah (hahahaha)\nHuh, yo, you know it (hahahaha)\nInfamous ninety-nine (infamous ninety-nine)\n(Hahahaha)\nInfamous two thousand\nAin't nuttin' but thugs over here, baby\n(Ahahahaha)\nYo (hahahaha)\n\nStraight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\nLike the terminal ill takin' they last breath\nRead your last rites, God, forgive me\nFor the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\nKill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\nReadin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\nKeep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\nHearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\nSleep with half closed eyelids\n\nSome say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\nGo easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\nNiggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\nScopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District\nJeweler with they hand on the biscuit\nDo you, wanna get caught lifted\nOr sober, so you can react quick?\nBlow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\nOn my thousand dollar mattress\nIt's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\nA moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cause we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nI got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\nIf it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (very-very)\nThe streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\nSo when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\nKeep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\nBeen through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\nApply street rules to the office, high performance\nRap author, made millions off of\n\nMelodic, hypnotic productions\nThat'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (you feel me? You feel me?)\nYou feel me? I'll write a graphic page\nEscort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\nWe the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (don't get no realer than this)\nIt's more real than any words I can muster\nPull the black Cadillac trucks up (what?)\nHop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cause we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nSilk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\nHalle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\nSilk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\nAnd I'll front like my doo-doo don't stink\nInstinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\nHazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\nEverybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\nJust to think, that was yesterday's action\n'Cause today goes either way, we came a long way\n\nFrom hallway steps and hand-me-down shit\nFuck my foes, I seen the other side, Nextel cell roam\nCall the chopper phone, heliport in my home\nQuincy Jones posters, wake up, guns\nUnder my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\nShit is better than a novel, autobiographic\nSpit it on tracks, it becomes classic\nStart some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n\nNastradamus, last one to blast one when the NARC's come\nKnow how to leave anything in thirty seconds\nWhen you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\nI'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\nYour flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\nCremate your flesh to ashes, you don't need\nA suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cause we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nThug life is mine\nThug life is mine\nUh, thug life is mine\nIll Will\nNeed to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\n\nWe don't give a fuck\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: It's Mine\n artist: Mobb Deep\n album: The Infamous... Instrumentals\n duration_ms: 253000\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n Yeah, yeah (hahahaha)\n Uh-huh, yeah-yeah (hahahaha)\n Huh, yo, you know it (hahahaha)\n Infamous ninety-nine (infamous ninety-nine)\n (Hahahaha)\n Infamous two thousand\n Ain't nuttin' but thugs over here, baby\n (Ahahahaha)\n Yo (hahahaha)\n\n Straight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\n Like the terminal ill takin' they last breath\n Read your last rites, God, forgive me\n For the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\n Kill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\n Readin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\n Keep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\n Hearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\n Sleep with half closed eyelids\n\n Some say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\n Go easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\n Niggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\n Scopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District\n Jeweler with they hand on the biscuit\n Do you, wanna get caught lifted\n Or sober, so you can react quick?\n Blow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\n On my thousand dollar mattress\n It's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\n A moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n I got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\n If it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (very-very)\n The streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\n So when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\n Keep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\n Been through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\n Apply street rules to the office, high performance\n Rap author, made millions off of\n\n Melodic, hypnotic productions\n That'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (you feel me? You feel me?)\n You feel me? I'll write a graphic page\n Escort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\n We the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (don't get no realer than this)\n It's more real than any words I can muster\n Pull the black Cadillac trucks up (what?)\n Hop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n Silk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\n Halle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\n Silk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\n And I'll front like my doo-doo don't stink\n Instinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\n Hazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\n Everybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\n Just to think, that was yesterday's action\n 'Cause today goes either way, we came a long way\n\n From hallway steps and hand-me-down shit\n Fuck my foes, I seen the other side, Nextel cell roam\n Call the chopper phone, heliport in my home\n Quincy Jones posters, wake up, guns\n Under my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\n Shit is better than a novel, autobiographic\n Spit it on tracks, it becomes classic\n Start some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n\n Nastradamus, last one to blast one when the NARC's come\n Know how to leave anything in thirty seconds\n When you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\n I'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\n Your flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\n Cremate your flesh to ashes, you don't need\n A suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n Thug life is mine\n Thug life is mine\n Uh, thug life is mine\n Ill Will\n Need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n\n We don't give a fuck\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n"},{"id":30241554,"name":"It's Mine","trackName":"It's Mine","artistName":"Mobb Deep","albumName":"Murda Muzik","duration":254.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah, yeah (hahahaha)\nUh-huh, yeah-yeah (hahahaha)\nHuh, yo, you know it (hahahaha)\nInfamous ninety-nine (infamous ninety-nine)\n(Hahahaha)\nInfamous two thousand\nAin't nuttin' but thugs over here, baby\n(Ahahahaha)\nYo (hahahaha)\n\nStraight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\nLike the terminal ill takin' they last breath\nRead your last rites, God, forgive me\nFor the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\nKill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\nReadin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\nKeep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\nHearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\nSleep with half closed eyelids\n\nSome say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\nGo easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\nNiggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\nScopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District\nJeweler with they hand on the biscuit\nDo you, wanna get caught lifted\nOr sober, so you can react quick?\nBlow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\nOn my thousand dollar mattress\nIt's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\nA moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cause we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nI got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\nIf it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (very-very)\nThe streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\nSo when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\nKeep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\nBeen through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\nApply street rules to the office, high performance\nRap author, made millions off of\n\nMelodic, hypnotic productions\nThat'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (you feel me? You feel me?)\nYou feel me? I'll write a graphic page\nEscort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\nWe the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (don't get no realer than this)\nIt's more real than any words I can muster\nPull the black Cadillac trucks up (what?)\nHop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cause we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nSilk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\nHalle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\nSilk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\nAnd I'll front like my doo-doo don't stink\nInstinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\nHazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\nEverybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\nJust to think, that was yesterday's action\n'Cause today goes either way, we came a long way\n\nFrom hallway steps and hand-me-down shit\nFuck my foes, I seen the other side, Nextel cell roam\nCall the chopper phone, heliport in my home\nQuincy Jones posters, wake up, guns\nUnder my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\nShit is better than a novel, autobiographic\nSpit it on tracks, it becomes classic\nStart some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n\nNastradamus, last one to blast one when the NARC's come\nKnow how to leave anything in thirty seconds\nWhen you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\nI'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\nYour flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\nCremate your flesh to ashes, you don't need\nA suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cause we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nThug life is mine\nThug life is mine\nUh, thug life is mine\nIll Will\nNeed to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\n\nWe don't give a fuck\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine","syncedLyrics":"[00:06.56] Yeah, yeah (hahahaha)\n[00:09.15] Uh-huh, yeah-yeah (hahahaha)\n[00:11.31] Huh, yo, you know it (hahahaha)\n[00:12.96] Infamous ninety-nine (infamous ninety-nine)\n[00:15.01] (Hahahaha)\n[00:15.39] Infamous two thousand\n[00:16.77] Ain't nuttin' but thugs over here, baby\n[00:18.58] (Ahahahaha)\n[00:21.44] Yo (hahahaha)\n[00:23.58] Straight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\n[00:26.42] Like the terminal ill takin' they last breath\n[00:28.85] Read your last rites, God, forgive me\n[00:30.66] For the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\n[00:33.02] Kill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\n[00:35.45] Readin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\n[00:38.16] Keep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\n[00:40.24] Hearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\n[00:43.18] Sleep with half closed eyelids\n[00:44.44] Some say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\n[00:47.60] Go easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\n[00:49.93] Niggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\n[00:52.34] Scopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District\n[00:54.98] Jeweler with they hand on the biscuit\n[00:57.35] Do you, wanna get caught lifted\n[00:59.93] Or sober, so you can react quick?\n[01:01.84] Blow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\n[01:04.78] On my thousand dollar mattress\n[01:06.36] It's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\n[01:09.25] A moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n[01:12.47] Y'all need to give it up\n[01:15.12] We don't give a fuck\n[01:17.21] What y'all niggas want\n[01:19.72] Thug life is mine\n[01:22.34] Y'all need to give it up\n[01:24.46] 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n[01:26.73] What y'all niggas want\n[01:29.12] Thug life is mine\n[01:30.53] I got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\n[01:32.61] If it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (very-very)\n[01:35.58] The streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\n[01:37.93] So when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\n[01:40.33] Keep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\n[01:41.93] Been through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\n[01:44.59] Apply street rules to the office, high performance\n[01:47.25] Rap author, made millions off of\n[01:49.90] Melodic, hypnotic productions\n[01:51.65] That'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (you feel me? You feel me?)\n[01:54.60] You feel me? I'll write a graphic page\n[01:56.18] Escort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\n[01:59.19] We the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (don't get no realer than this)\n[02:01.78] It's more real than any words I can muster\n[02:03.81] Pull the black Cadillac trucks up (what?)\n[02:06.33] Hop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n[02:09.77] Y'all need to give it up\n[02:12.36] We don't give a fuck\n[02:14.56] What y'all niggas want\n[02:16.91] Thug life is mine\n[02:19.34] Y'all need to give it up\n[02:21.93] 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n[02:24.07] What y'all niggas want\n[02:26.12] Thug life is mine\n[02:27.25] Silk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\n[02:29.28] Halle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\n[02:32.63] Silk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\n[02:35.60] And I'll front like my doo-doo don't stink\n[02:37.36] Instinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\n[02:40.06] Hazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\n[02:42.12] Everybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\n[02:45.08] Just to think, that was yesterday's action\n[02:46.97] 'Cause today goes either way, we came a long way\n[02:49.60] From hallway steps and hand-me-down shit\n[02:51.22] Fuck my foes, I seen the other side, Nextel cell roam\n[02:54.10] Call the chopper phone, heliport in my home\n[02:56.53] Quincy Jones posters, wake up, guns\n[02:58.59] Under my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\n[03:01.26] Shit is better than a novel, autobiographic\n[03:03.63] Spit it on tracks, it becomes classic\n[03:05.73] Start some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n[03:08.45] Nastradamus, last one to blast one when the NARC's come\n[03:10.81] Know how to leave anything in thirty seconds\n[03:12.91] When you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\n[03:15.45] I'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\n[03:17.81] Your flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\n[03:20.24] Cremate your flesh to ashes, you don't need\n[03:22.63] A suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n[03:26.07] Y'all need to give it up\n[03:28.52] We don't give a fuck\n[03:30.93] What y'all niggas want\n[03:32.53] Thug life is mine\n[03:35.43] Y'all need to give it up\n[03:38.11] 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n[03:40.55] What y'all niggas want\n[03:42.78] Thug life is mine\n[03:47.41] Thug life is mine\n[03:52.08] Thug life is mine\n[03:56.08] Uh, thug life is mine\n[04:00.05] Ill Will\n[04:02.05] Need to give it up\n[04:04.49] We don't give a fuck\n[04:06.84] What y'all niggas want\n[04:09.11] We don't give a fuck\n[04:11.29] Thug life is mine\n[04:13.85] Y'all need to give it up\n[04:16.32] We don't give a fuck\n[04:18.72] What y'all niggas want\n[04:20.64] Thug life is mine\n[04:22.99] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: It's Mine\n artist: Mobb Deep\n album: Murda Muzik\n duration_ms: 254000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yeah, yeah (hahahaha)\n start_ms: 6560\n end_ms: 9150\n- text: Uh-huh, yeah-yeah (hahahaha)\n start_ms: 9150\n end_ms: 11310\n- text: Huh, yo, you know it (hahahaha)\n start_ms: 11310\n end_ms: 12960\n- text: Infamous ninety-nine (infamous ninety-nine)\n start_ms: 12960\n end_ms: 15010\n- text: (Hahahaha)\n start_ms: 15010\n end_ms: 15390\n- text: Infamous two thousand\n start_ms: 15390\n end_ms: 16770\n- text: Ain't nuttin' but thugs over here, baby\n start_ms: 16770\n end_ms: 18580\n- text: (Ahahahaha)\n start_ms: 18580\n end_ms: 21440\n- text: Yo (hahahaha)\n start_ms: 21440\n end_ms: 23580\n- text: Straight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\n start_ms: 23580\n end_ms: 26420\n- text: Like the terminal ill takin' they last breath\n start_ms: 26420\n end_ms: 28850\n- text: Read your last rites, God, forgive me\n start_ms: 28850\n end_ms: 30660\n- text: For the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\n start_ms: 30660\n end_ms: 33020\n- text: Kill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\n start_ms: 33020\n end_ms: 35450\n- text: Readin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\n start_ms: 35450\n end_ms: 38160\n- text: Keep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\n start_ms: 38160\n end_ms: 40240\n- text: Hearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\n start_ms: 40240\n end_ms: 43180\n- text: Sleep with half closed eyelids\n start_ms: 43180\n end_ms: 44440\n- text: Some say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\n start_ms: 44440\n end_ms: 47600\n- text: Go easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\n start_ms: 47600\n end_ms: 49930\n- text: Niggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\n start_ms: 49930\n end_ms: 52340\n- text: Scopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District\n start_ms: 52340\n end_ms: 54980\n- text: Jeweler with they hand on the biscuit\n start_ms: 54980\n end_ms: 57350\n- text: Do you, wanna get caught lifted\n start_ms: 57350\n end_ms: 59930\n- text: Or sober, so you can react quick?\n start_ms: 59930\n end_ms: 61840\n- text: Blow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\n start_ms: 61840\n end_ms: 64780\n- text: On my thousand dollar mattress\n start_ms: 64780\n end_ms: 66360\n- text: It's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\n start_ms: 66360\n end_ms: 69250\n- text: A moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n start_ms: 69250\n end_ms: 72470\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 72470\n end_ms: 75120\n- text: We don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 75120\n end_ms: 77210\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 77210\n end_ms: 79720\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 79720\n end_ms: 82340\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 82340\n end_ms: 84460\n- text: '''Cause we don''t give a fuck'\n start_ms: 84460\n end_ms: 86730\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 86730\n end_ms: 89120\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 89120\n end_ms: 90530\n- text: I got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\n start_ms: 90530\n end_ms: 92610\n- text: If it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (very-very)\n start_ms: 92610\n end_ms: 95580\n- text: The streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\n start_ms: 95580\n end_ms: 97930\n- text: So when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\n start_ms: 97930\n end_ms: 100330\n- text: Keep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\n start_ms: 100330\n end_ms: 101930\n- text: Been through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\n start_ms: 101930\n end_ms: 104590\n- text: Apply street rules to the office, high performance\n start_ms: 104590\n end_ms: 107250\n- text: Rap author, made millions off of\n start_ms: 107250\n end_ms: 109900\n- text: Melodic, hypnotic productions\n start_ms: 109900\n end_ms: 111650\n- text: That'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (you feel me? You feel me?)\n start_ms: 111650\n end_ms: 114600\n- text: You feel me? I'll write a graphic page\n start_ms: 114600\n end_ms: 116180\n- text: Escort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\n start_ms: 116180\n end_ms: 119190\n- text: We the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (don't get no realer than this)\n start_ms: 119190\n end_ms: 121780\n- text: It's more real than any words I can muster\n start_ms: 121780\n end_ms: 123810\n- text: Pull the black Cadillac trucks up (what?)\n start_ms: 123810\n end_ms: 126330\n- text: Hop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n start_ms: 126330\n end_ms: 129770\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 129770\n end_ms: 132360\n- text: We don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 132360\n end_ms: 134560\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 134560\n end_ms: 136910\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 136910\n end_ms: 139340\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 139340\n end_ms: 141930\n- text: '''Cause we don''t give a fuck'\n start_ms: 141930\n end_ms: 144070\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 144070\n end_ms: 146120\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 146120\n end_ms: 147250\n- text: Silk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\n start_ms: 147250\n end_ms: 149280\n- text: Halle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\n start_ms: 149280\n end_ms: 152630\n- text: Silk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\n start_ms: 152630\n end_ms: 155600\n- text: And I'll front like my doo-doo don't stink\n start_ms: 155600\n end_ms: 157360\n- text: Instinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\n start_ms: 157360\n end_ms: 160060\n- text: Hazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\n start_ms: 160060\n end_ms: 162120\n- text: Everybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\n start_ms: 162120\n end_ms: 165080\n- text: Just to think, that was yesterday's action\n start_ms: 165080\n end_ms: 166970\n- text: '''Cause today goes either way, we came a long way'\n start_ms: 166970\n end_ms: 169600\n- text: From hallway steps and hand-me-down shit\n start_ms: 169600\n end_ms: 171220\n- text: Fuck my foes, I seen the other side, Nextel cell roam\n start_ms: 171220\n end_ms: 174100\n- text: Call the chopper phone, heliport in my home\n start_ms: 174100\n end_ms: 176530\n- text: Quincy Jones posters, wake up, guns\n start_ms: 176530\n end_ms: 178590\n- text: Under my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\n start_ms: 178590\n end_ms: 181260\n- text: Shit is better than a novel, autobiographic\n start_ms: 181260\n end_ms: 183630\n- text: Spit it on tracks, it becomes classic\n start_ms: 183630\n end_ms: 185730\n- text: Start some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n start_ms: 185730\n end_ms: 188450\n- text: Nastradamus, last one to blast one when the NARC's come\n start_ms: 188450\n end_ms: 190810\n- text: Know how to leave anything in thirty seconds\n start_ms: 190810\n end_ms: 192910\n- text: When you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\n start_ms: 192910\n end_ms: 195450\n- text: I'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\n start_ms: 195450\n end_ms: 197810\n- text: Your flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\n start_ms: 197810\n end_ms: 200240\n- text: Cremate your flesh to ashes, you don't need\n start_ms: 200240\n end_ms: 202630\n- text: A suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n start_ms: 202630\n end_ms: 206070\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 206070\n end_ms: 208520\n- text: We don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 208520\n end_ms: 210930\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 210930\n end_ms: 212530\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 212530\n end_ms: 215430\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 215430\n end_ms: 218110\n- text: '''Cause we don''t give a fuck'\n start_ms: 218110\n end_ms: 220550\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 220550\n end_ms: 222780\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 222780\n end_ms: 227410\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 227410\n end_ms: 232080\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 232080\n end_ms: 236080\n- text: Uh, thug life is mine\n start_ms: 236080\n end_ms: 240050\n- text: Ill Will\n start_ms: 240050\n end_ms: 242050\n- text: Need to give it up\n start_ms: 242050\n end_ms: 244490\n- text: We don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 244490\n end_ms: 246840\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 246840\n end_ms: 249110\n- text: We don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 249110\n end_ms: 251290\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 251290\n end_ms: 253850\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 253850\n end_ms: 256320\n- text: We don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 256320\n end_ms: 258720\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 258720\n end_ms: 260640\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 260640\n end_ms: 262990\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 262990\nplain: |-\n Yeah, yeah (hahahaha)\n Uh-huh, yeah-yeah (hahahaha)\n Huh, yo, you know it (hahahaha)\n Infamous ninety-nine (infamous ninety-nine)\n (Hahahaha)\n Infamous two thousand\n Ain't nuttin' but thugs over here, baby\n (Ahahahaha)\n Yo (hahahaha)\n\n Straight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\n Like the terminal ill takin' they last breath\n Read your last rites, God, forgive me\n For the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\n Kill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\n Readin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\n Keep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\n Hearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\n Sleep with half closed eyelids\n\n Some say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\n Go easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\n Niggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\n Scopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District\n Jeweler with they hand on the biscuit\n Do you, wanna get caught lifted\n Or sober, so you can react quick?\n Blow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\n On my thousand dollar mattress\n It's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\n A moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n I got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\n If it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (very-very)\n The streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\n So when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\n Keep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\n Been through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\n Apply street rules to the office, high performance\n Rap author, made millions off of\n\n Melodic, hypnotic productions\n That'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (you feel me? You feel me?)\n You feel me? I'll write a graphic page\n Escort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\n We the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (don't get no realer than this)\n It's more real than any words I can muster\n Pull the black Cadillac trucks up (what?)\n Hop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n Silk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\n Halle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\n Silk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\n And I'll front like my doo-doo don't stink\n Instinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\n Hazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\n Everybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\n Just to think, that was yesterday's action\n 'Cause today goes either way, we came a long way\n\n From hallway steps and hand-me-down shit\n Fuck my foes, I seen the other side, Nextel cell roam\n Call the chopper phone, heliport in my home\n Quincy Jones posters, wake up, guns\n Under my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\n Shit is better than a novel, autobiographic\n Spit it on tracks, it becomes classic\n Start some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n\n Nastradamus, last one to blast one when the NARC's come\n Know how to leave anything in thirty seconds\n When you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\n I'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\n Your flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\n Cremate your flesh to ashes, you don't need\n A suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n Thug life is mine\n Thug life is mine\n Uh, thug life is mine\n Ill Will\n Need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n\n We don't give a fuck\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n"},{"id":32475676,"name":"It's Mine","trackName":"It's Mine","artistName":"Mobb Deep","albumName":"Queensbridge Retrospective","duration":123.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah, yeah (hahahaha)\nUh-huh, yeah-yeah (hahahaha)\nHuh, yo, you know it (hahahaha)\nInfamous ninety-nine (infamous ninety-nine)\n(Hahahaha)\nInfamous two thousand\nAin't nuttin' but thugs over here, baby\n(Ahahahaha)\nYo (hahahaha)\n\nStraight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\nLike the terminal ill takin' they last breath\nRead your last rites, God, forgive me\nFor the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\nKill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\nReadin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\nKeep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\nHearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\nSleep with half closed eyelids\n\nSome say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\nGo easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\nNiggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\nScopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District\nJeweler with they hand on the biscuit\nDo you, wanna get caught lifted\nOr sober, so you can react quick?\nBlow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\nOn my thousand dollar mattress\nIt's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\nA moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cause we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nI got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\nIf it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (very-very)\nThe streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\nSo when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\nKeep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\nBeen through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\nApply street rules to the office, high performance\nRap author, made millions off of\n\nMelodic, hypnotic productions\nThat'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (you feel me? You feel me?)\nYou feel me? I'll write a graphic page\nEscort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\nWe the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (don't get no realer than this)\nIt's more real than any words I can muster\nPull the black Cadillac trucks up (what?)\nHop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cause we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nSilk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\nHalle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\nSilk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\nAnd I'll front like my doo-doo don't stink\nInstinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\nHazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\nEverybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\nJust to think, that was yesterday's action\n'Cause today goes either way, we came a long way\n\nFrom hallway steps and hand-me-down shit\nFuck my foes, I seen the other side, Nextel cell roam\nCall the chopper phone, heliport in my home\nQuincy Jones posters, wake up, guns\nUnder my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\nShit is better than a novel, autobiographic\nSpit it on tracks, it becomes classic\nStart some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n\nNastradamus, last one to blast one when the NARC's come\nKnow how to leave anything in thirty seconds\nWhen you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\nI'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\nYour flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\nCremate your flesh to ashes, you don't need\nA suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cause we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nThug life is mine\nThug life is mine\nUh, thug life is mine\nIll Will\nNeed to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\n\nWe don't give a fuck\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine","syncedLyrics":"[00:06.56] Yeah, yeah (hahahaha)\n[00:09.15] Uh-huh, yeah-yeah (hahahaha)\n[00:11.31] Huh, yo, you know it (hahahaha)\n[00:12.96] Infamous ninety-nine (infamous ninety-nine)\n[00:15.01] (Hahahaha)\n[00:15.39] Infamous two thousand\n[00:16.77] Ain't nuttin' but thugs over here, baby\n[00:18.58] (Ahahahaha)\n[00:21.44] Yo (hahahaha)\n[00:23.58] Straight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\n[00:26.42] Like the terminal ill takin' they last breath\n[00:28.85] Read your last rites, God, forgive me\n[00:30.66] For the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\n[00:33.02] Kill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\n[00:35.45] Readin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\n[00:38.16] Keep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\n[00:40.24] Hearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\n[00:43.18] Sleep with half closed eyelids\n[00:44.44] Some say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\n[00:47.60] Go easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\n[00:49.93] Niggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\n[00:52.34] Scopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District\n[00:54.98] Jeweler with they hand on the biscuit\n[00:57.35] Do you, wanna get caught lifted\n[00:59.93] Or sober, so you can react quick?\n[01:01.84] Blow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\n[01:04.78] On my thousand dollar mattress\n[01:06.36] It's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\n[01:09.25] A moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n[01:12.47] Y'all need to give it up\n[01:15.12] We don't give a fuck\n[01:17.21] What y'all niggas want\n[01:19.72] Thug life is mine\n[01:22.34] Y'all need to give it up\n[01:24.46] 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n[01:26.73] What y'all niggas want\n[01:29.12] Thug life is mine\n[01:30.53] I got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\n[01:32.61] If it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (very-very)\n[01:35.58] The streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\n[01:37.93] So when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\n[01:40.33] Keep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\n[01:41.93] Been through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\n[01:44.59] Apply street rules to the office, high performance\n[01:47.25] Rap author, made millions off of\n[01:49.90] Melodic, hypnotic productions\n[01:51.65] That'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (you feel me? You feel me?)\n[01:54.60] You feel me? I'll write a graphic page\n[01:56.18] Escort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\n[01:59.19] We the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (don't get no realer than this)\n[02:01.78] It's more real than any words I can muster\n[02:03.81] Pull the black Cadillac trucks up (what?)\n[02:06.33] Hop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n[02:09.77] Y'all need to give it up\n[02:12.36] We don't give a fuck\n[02:14.56] What y'all niggas want\n[02:16.91] Thug life is mine\n[02:19.34] Y'all need to give it up\n[02:21.93] 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n[02:24.07] What y'all niggas want\n[02:26.12] Thug life is mine\n[02:27.25] Silk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\n[02:29.28] Halle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\n[02:32.63] Silk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\n[02:35.60] And I'll front like my doo-doo don't stink\n[02:37.36] Instinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\n[02:40.06] Hazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\n[02:42.12] Everybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\n[02:45.08] Just to think, that was yesterday's action\n[02:46.97] 'Cause today goes either way, we came a long way\n[02:49.60] From hallway steps and hand-me-down shit\n[02:51.22] Fuck my foes, I seen the other side, Nextel cell roam\n[02:54.10] Call the chopper phone, heliport in my home\n[02:56.53] Quincy Jones posters, wake up, guns\n[02:58.59] Under my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\n[03:01.26] Shit is better than a novel, autobiographic\n[03:03.63] Spit it on tracks, it becomes classic\n[03:05.73] Start some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n[03:08.45] Nastradamus, last one to blast one when the NARC's come\n[03:10.81] Know how to leave anything in thirty seconds\n[03:12.91] When you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\n[03:15.45] I'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\n[03:17.81] Your flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\n[03:20.24] Cremate your flesh to ashes, you don't need\n[03:22.63] A suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n[03:26.07] Y'all need to give it up\n[03:28.52] We don't give a fuck\n[03:30.93] What y'all niggas want\n[03:32.53] Thug life is mine\n[03:35.43] Y'all need to give it up\n[03:38.11] 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n[03:40.55] What y'all niggas want\n[03:42.78] Thug life is mine\n[03:47.41] Thug life is mine\n[03:52.08] Thug life is mine\n[03:56.08] Uh, thug life is mine\n[04:00.05] Ill Will\n[04:02.05] Need to give it up\n[04:04.49] We don't give a fuck\n[04:06.84] What y'all niggas want\n[04:09.11] We don't give a fuck\n[04:11.29] Thug life is mine\n[04:13.85] Y'all need to give it up\n[04:16.32] We don't give a fuck\n[04:18.72] What y'all niggas want\n[04:20.64] Thug life is mine\n[04:22.99] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: It's Mine\n artist: Mobb Deep\n album: Queensbridge Retrospective\n duration_ms: 123000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yeah, yeah (hahahaha)\n start_ms: 6560\n end_ms: 9150\n- text: Uh-huh, yeah-yeah (hahahaha)\n start_ms: 9150\n end_ms: 11310\n- text: Huh, yo, you know it (hahahaha)\n start_ms: 11310\n end_ms: 12960\n- text: Infamous ninety-nine (infamous ninety-nine)\n start_ms: 12960\n end_ms: 15010\n- text: (Hahahaha)\n start_ms: 15010\n end_ms: 15390\n- text: Infamous two thousand\n start_ms: 15390\n end_ms: 16770\n- text: Ain't nuttin' but thugs over here, baby\n start_ms: 16770\n end_ms: 18580\n- text: (Ahahahaha)\n start_ms: 18580\n end_ms: 21440\n- text: Yo (hahahaha)\n start_ms: 21440\n end_ms: 23580\n- text: Straight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\n start_ms: 23580\n end_ms: 26420\n- text: Like the terminal ill takin' they last breath\n start_ms: 26420\n end_ms: 28850\n- text: Read your last rites, God, forgive me\n start_ms: 28850\n end_ms: 30660\n- text: For the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\n start_ms: 30660\n end_ms: 33020\n- text: Kill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\n start_ms: 33020\n end_ms: 35450\n- text: Readin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\n start_ms: 35450\n end_ms: 38160\n- text: Keep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\n start_ms: 38160\n end_ms: 40240\n- text: Hearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\n start_ms: 40240\n end_ms: 43180\n- text: Sleep with half closed eyelids\n start_ms: 43180\n end_ms: 44440\n- text: Some say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\n start_ms: 44440\n end_ms: 47600\n- text: Go easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\n start_ms: 47600\n end_ms: 49930\n- text: Niggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\n start_ms: 49930\n end_ms: 52340\n- text: Scopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District\n start_ms: 52340\n end_ms: 54980\n- text: Jeweler with they hand on the biscuit\n start_ms: 54980\n end_ms: 57350\n- text: Do you, wanna get caught lifted\n start_ms: 57350\n end_ms: 59930\n- text: Or sober, so you can react quick?\n start_ms: 59930\n end_ms: 61840\n- text: Blow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\n start_ms: 61840\n end_ms: 64780\n- text: On my thousand dollar mattress\n start_ms: 64780\n end_ms: 66360\n- text: It's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\n start_ms: 66360\n end_ms: 69250\n- text: A moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n start_ms: 69250\n end_ms: 72470\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 72470\n end_ms: 75120\n- text: We don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 75120\n end_ms: 77210\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 77210\n end_ms: 79720\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 79720\n end_ms: 82340\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 82340\n end_ms: 84460\n- text: '''Cause we don''t give a fuck'\n start_ms: 84460\n end_ms: 86730\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 86730\n end_ms: 89120\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 89120\n end_ms: 90530\n- text: I got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\n start_ms: 90530\n end_ms: 92610\n- text: If it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (very-very)\n start_ms: 92610\n end_ms: 95580\n- text: The streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\n start_ms: 95580\n end_ms: 97930\n- text: So when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\n start_ms: 97930\n end_ms: 100330\n- text: Keep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\n start_ms: 100330\n end_ms: 101930\n- text: Been through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\n start_ms: 101930\n end_ms: 104590\n- text: Apply street rules to the office, high performance\n start_ms: 104590\n end_ms: 107250\n- text: Rap author, made millions off of\n start_ms: 107250\n end_ms: 109900\n- text: Melodic, hypnotic productions\n start_ms: 109900\n end_ms: 111650\n- text: That'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (you feel me? You feel me?)\n start_ms: 111650\n end_ms: 114600\n- text: You feel me? I'll write a graphic page\n start_ms: 114600\n end_ms: 116180\n- text: Escort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\n start_ms: 116180\n end_ms: 119190\n- text: We the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (don't get no realer than this)\n start_ms: 119190\n end_ms: 121780\n- text: It's more real than any words I can muster\n start_ms: 121780\n end_ms: 123810\n- text: Pull the black Cadillac trucks up (what?)\n start_ms: 123810\n end_ms: 126330\n- text: Hop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n start_ms: 126330\n end_ms: 129770\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 129770\n end_ms: 132360\n- text: We don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 132360\n end_ms: 134560\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 134560\n end_ms: 136910\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 136910\n end_ms: 139340\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 139340\n end_ms: 141930\n- text: '''Cause we don''t give a fuck'\n start_ms: 141930\n end_ms: 144070\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 144070\n end_ms: 146120\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 146120\n end_ms: 147250\n- text: Silk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\n start_ms: 147250\n end_ms: 149280\n- text: Halle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\n start_ms: 149280\n end_ms: 152630\n- text: Silk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\n start_ms: 152630\n end_ms: 155600\n- text: And I'll front like my doo-doo don't stink\n start_ms: 155600\n end_ms: 157360\n- text: Instinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\n start_ms: 157360\n end_ms: 160060\n- text: Hazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\n start_ms: 160060\n end_ms: 162120\n- text: Everybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\n start_ms: 162120\n end_ms: 165080\n- text: Just to think, that was yesterday's action\n start_ms: 165080\n end_ms: 166970\n- text: '''Cause today goes either way, we came a long way'\n start_ms: 166970\n end_ms: 169600\n- text: From hallway steps and hand-me-down shit\n start_ms: 169600\n end_ms: 171220\n- text: Fuck my foes, I seen the other side, Nextel cell roam\n start_ms: 171220\n end_ms: 174100\n- text: Call the chopper phone, heliport in my home\n start_ms: 174100\n end_ms: 176530\n- text: Quincy Jones posters, wake up, guns\n start_ms: 176530\n end_ms: 178590\n- text: Under my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\n start_ms: 178590\n end_ms: 181260\n- text: Shit is better than a novel, autobiographic\n start_ms: 181260\n end_ms: 183630\n- text: Spit it on tracks, it becomes classic\n start_ms: 183630\n end_ms: 185730\n- text: Start some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n start_ms: 185730\n end_ms: 188450\n- text: Nastradamus, last one to blast one when the NARC's come\n start_ms: 188450\n end_ms: 190810\n- text: Know how to leave anything in thirty seconds\n start_ms: 190810\n end_ms: 192910\n- text: When you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\n start_ms: 192910\n end_ms: 195450\n- text: I'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\n start_ms: 195450\n end_ms: 197810\n- text: Your flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\n start_ms: 197810\n end_ms: 200240\n- text: Cremate your flesh to ashes, you don't need\n start_ms: 200240\n end_ms: 202630\n- text: A suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n start_ms: 202630\n end_ms: 206070\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 206070\n end_ms: 208520\n- text: We don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 208520\n end_ms: 210930\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 210930\n end_ms: 212530\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 212530\n end_ms: 215430\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 215430\n end_ms: 218110\n- text: '''Cause we don''t give a fuck'\n start_ms: 218110\n end_ms: 220550\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 220550\n end_ms: 222780\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 222780\n end_ms: 227410\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 227410\n end_ms: 232080\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 232080\n end_ms: 236080\n- text: Uh, thug life is mine\n start_ms: 236080\n end_ms: 240050\n- text: Ill Will\n start_ms: 240050\n end_ms: 242050\n- text: Need to give it up\n start_ms: 242050\n end_ms: 244490\n- text: We don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 244490\n end_ms: 246840\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 246840\n end_ms: 249110\n- text: We don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 249110\n end_ms: 251290\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 251290\n end_ms: 253850\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 253850\n end_ms: 256320\n- text: We don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 256320\n end_ms: 258720\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 258720\n end_ms: 260640\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 260640\n end_ms: 262990\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 262990\nplain: |-\n Yeah, yeah (hahahaha)\n Uh-huh, yeah-yeah (hahahaha)\n Huh, yo, you know it (hahahaha)\n Infamous ninety-nine (infamous ninety-nine)\n (Hahahaha)\n Infamous two thousand\n Ain't nuttin' but thugs over here, baby\n (Ahahahaha)\n Yo (hahahaha)\n\n Straight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\n Like the terminal ill takin' they last breath\n Read your last rites, God, forgive me\n For the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\n Kill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\n Readin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\n Keep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\n Hearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\n Sleep with half closed eyelids\n\n Some say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\n Go easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\n Niggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\n Scopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District\n Jeweler with they hand on the biscuit\n Do you, wanna get caught lifted\n Or sober, so you can react quick?\n Blow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\n On my thousand dollar mattress\n It's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\n A moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n I got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\n If it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (very-very)\n The streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\n So when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\n Keep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\n Been through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\n Apply street rules to the office, high performance\n Rap author, made millions off of\n\n Melodic, hypnotic productions\n That'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (you feel me? You feel me?)\n You feel me? I'll write a graphic page\n Escort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\n We the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (don't get no realer than this)\n It's more real than any words I can muster\n Pull the black Cadillac trucks up (what?)\n Hop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n Silk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\n Halle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\n Silk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\n And I'll front like my doo-doo don't stink\n Instinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\n Hazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\n Everybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\n Just to think, that was yesterday's action\n 'Cause today goes either way, we came a long way\n\n From hallway steps and hand-me-down shit\n Fuck my foes, I seen the other side, Nextel cell roam\n Call the chopper phone, heliport in my home\n Quincy Jones posters, wake up, guns\n Under my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\n Shit is better than a novel, autobiographic\n Spit it on tracks, it becomes classic\n Start some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n\n Nastradamus, last one to blast one when the NARC's come\n Know how to leave anything in thirty seconds\n When you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\n I'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\n Your flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\n Cremate your flesh to ashes, you don't need\n A suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n Thug life is mine\n Thug life is mine\n Uh, thug life is mine\n Ill Will\n Need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n\n We don't give a fuck\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n"},{"id":19782707,"name":"It's Mine","trackName":"It's Mine","artistName":"Mobb Deep","albumName":"The Infamous... Instrumentals","duration":256.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah, yeah (hahahaha)\nUh-huh, yeah-yeah (hahahaha)\nHuh, yo, you know it (hahahaha)\nInfamous ninety-nine (infamous ninety-nine)\n(Hahahaha)\nInfamous two thousand\nAin't nuttin' but thugs over here, baby\n(Ahahahaha)\nYo (hahahaha)\n\nStraight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\nLike the terminal ill takin' they last breath\nRead your last rites, God, forgive me\nFor the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\nKill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\nReadin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\nKeep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\nHearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\nSleep with half closed eyelids\n\nSome say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\nGo easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\nNiggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\nScopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District\nJeweler with they hand on the biscuit\nDo you, wanna get caught lifted\nOr sober, so you can react quick?\nBlow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\nOn my thousand dollar mattress\nIt's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\nA moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cause we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nI got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\nIf it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (very-very)\nThe streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\nSo when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\nKeep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\nBeen through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\nApply street rules to the office, high performance\nRap author, made millions off of\n\nMelodic, hypnotic productions\nThat'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (you feel me? You feel me?)\nYou feel me? I'll write a graphic page\nEscort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\nWe the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (don't get no realer than this)\nIt's more real than any words I can muster\nPull the black Cadillac trucks up (what?)\nHop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cause we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nSilk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\nHalle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\nSilk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\nAnd I'll front like my doo-doo don't stink\nInstinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\nHazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\nEverybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\nJust to think, that was yesterday's action\n'Cause today goes either way, we came a long way\n\nFrom hallway steps and hand-me-down shit\nFuck my foes, I seen the other side, Nextel cell roam\nCall the chopper phone, heliport in my home\nQuincy Jones posters, wake up, guns\nUnder my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\nShit is better than a novel, autobiographic\nSpit it on tracks, it becomes classic\nStart some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n\nNastradamus, last one to blast one when the NARC's come\nKnow how to leave anything in thirty seconds\nWhen you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\nI'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\nYour flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\nCremate your flesh to ashes, you don't need\nA suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cause we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nThug life is mine\nThug life is mine\nUh, thug life is mine\nIll Will\nNeed to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\n\nWe don't give a fuck\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: It's Mine\n artist: Mobb Deep\n album: The Infamous... Instrumentals\n duration_ms: 256000\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n Yeah, yeah (hahahaha)\n Uh-huh, yeah-yeah (hahahaha)\n Huh, yo, you know it (hahahaha)\n Infamous ninety-nine (infamous ninety-nine)\n (Hahahaha)\n Infamous two thousand\n Ain't nuttin' but thugs over here, baby\n (Ahahahaha)\n Yo (hahahaha)\n\n Straight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\n Like the terminal ill takin' they last breath\n Read your last rites, God, forgive me\n For the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\n Kill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\n Readin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\n Keep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\n Hearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\n Sleep with half closed eyelids\n\n Some say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\n Go easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\n Niggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\n Scopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District\n Jeweler with they hand on the biscuit\n Do you, wanna get caught lifted\n Or sober, so you can react quick?\n Blow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\n On my thousand dollar mattress\n It's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\n A moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n I got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\n If it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (very-very)\n The streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\n So when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\n Keep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\n Been through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\n Apply street rules to the office, high performance\n Rap author, made millions off of\n\n Melodic, hypnotic productions\n That'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (you feel me? You feel me?)\n You feel me? I'll write a graphic page\n Escort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\n We the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (don't get no realer than this)\n It's more real than any words I can muster\n Pull the black Cadillac trucks up (what?)\n Hop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n Silk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\n Halle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\n Silk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\n And I'll front like my doo-doo don't stink\n Instinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\n Hazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\n Everybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\n Just to think, that was yesterday's action\n 'Cause today goes either way, we came a long way\n\n From hallway steps and hand-me-down shit\n Fuck my foes, I seen the other side, Nextel cell roam\n Call the chopper phone, heliport in my home\n Quincy Jones posters, wake up, guns\n Under my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\n Shit is better than a novel, autobiographic\n Spit it on tracks, it becomes classic\n Start some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n\n Nastradamus, last one to blast one when the NARC's come\n Know how to leave anything in thirty seconds\n When you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\n I'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\n Your flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\n Cremate your flesh to ashes, you don't need\n A suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n Thug life is mine\n Thug life is mine\n Uh, thug life is mine\n Ill Will\n Need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n\n We don't give a fuck\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n"},{"id":17912941,"name":"It's Mine","trackName":"It's Mine","artistName":"Mobb Deep","albumName":"The Illest (Bootleg)","duration":263.711417,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah, yeah (hahahaha)\nUh-huh, yeah-yeah (hahahaha)\nHuh, yo, you know it (hahahaha)\nInfamous ninety-nine (infamous ninety-nine)\n(Hahahaha)\nInfamous two thousand\nAin't nuttin' but thugs over here, baby\n(Ahahahaha)\nYo (hahahaha)\n\nStraight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\nLike the terminal ill takin' they last breath\nRead your last rites, God, forgive me\nFor the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\nKill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\nReadin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\nKeep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\nHearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\nSleep with half closed eyelids\n\nSome say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\nGo easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\nNiggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\nScopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District\nJeweler with they hand on the biscuit\nDo you, wanna get caught lifted\nOr sober, so you can react quick?\nBlow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\nOn my thousand dollar mattress\nIt's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\nA moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cause we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nI got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\nIf it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (very-very)\nThe streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\nSo when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\nKeep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\nBeen through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\nApply street rules to the office, high performance\nRap author, made millions off of\n\nMelodic, hypnotic productions\nThat'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (you feel me? You feel me?)\nYou feel me? I'll write a graphic page\nEscort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\nWe the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (don't get no realer than this)\nIt's more real than any words I can muster\nPull the black Cadillac trucks up (what?)\nHop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cause we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nSilk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\nHalle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\nSilk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\nAnd I'll front like my doo-doo don't stink\nInstinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\nHazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\nEverybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\nJust to think, that was yesterday's action\n'Cause today goes either way, we came a long way\n\nFrom hallway steps and hand-me-down shit\nFuck my foes, I seen the other side, Nextel cell roam\nCall the chopper phone, heliport in my home\nQuincy Jones posters, wake up, guns\nUnder my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\nShit is better than a novel, autobiographic\nSpit it on tracks, it becomes classic\nStart some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n\nNastradamus, last one to blast one when the NARC's come\nKnow how to leave anything in thirty seconds\nWhen you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\nI'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\nYour flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\nCremate your flesh to ashes, you don't need\nA suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cause we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nThug life is mine\nThug life is mine\nUh, thug life is mine\nIll Will\nNeed to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\n\nWe don't give a fuck\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine","syncedLyrics":"[00:06.56] Yeah, yeah (hahahaha)\n[00:09.15] Uh-huh, yeah-yeah (hahahaha)\n[00:11.31] Huh, yo, you know it (hahahaha)\n[00:12.96] Infamous ninety-nine (infamous ninety-nine)\n[00:15.01] (Hahahaha)\n[00:15.39] Infamous two thousand\n[00:16.77] Ain't nuttin' but thugs over here, baby\n[00:18.58] (Ahahahaha)\n[00:21.44] Yo (hahahaha)\n[00:23.58] Straight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\n[00:26.42] Like the terminal ill takin' they last breath\n[00:28.85] Read your last rites, God, forgive me\n[00:30.66] For the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\n[00:33.02] Kill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\n[00:35.45] Readin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\n[00:38.16] Keep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\n[00:40.24] Hearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\n[00:43.18] Sleep with half closed eyelids\n[00:44.44] Some say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\n[00:47.60] Go easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\n[00:49.93] Niggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\n[00:52.34] Scopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District\n[00:54.98] Jeweler with they hand on the biscuit\n[00:57.35] Do you, wanna get caught lifted\n[00:59.93] Or sober, so you can react quick?\n[01:01.84] Blow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\n[01:04.78] On my thousand dollar mattress\n[01:06.36] It's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\n[01:09.25] A moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n[01:12.47] Y'all need to give it up\n[01:15.12] We don't give a fuck\n[01:17.21] What y'all niggas want\n[01:19.72] Thug life is mine\n[01:22.34] Y'all need to give it up\n[01:24.46] 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n[01:26.73] What y'all niggas want\n[01:29.12] Thug life is mine\n[01:30.53] I got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\n[01:32.61] If it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (very-very)\n[01:35.58] The streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\n[01:37.93] So when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\n[01:40.33] Keep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\n[01:41.93] Been through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\n[01:44.59] Apply street rules to the office, high performance\n[01:47.25] Rap author, made millions off of\n[01:49.90] Melodic, hypnotic productions\n[01:51.65] That'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (you feel me? You feel me?)\n[01:54.60] You feel me? I'll write a graphic page\n[01:56.18] Escort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\n[01:59.19] We the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (don't get no realer than this)\n[02:01.78] It's more real than any words I can muster\n[02:03.81] Pull the black Cadillac trucks up (what?)\n[02:06.33] Hop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n[02:09.77] Y'all need to give it up\n[02:12.36] We don't give a fuck\n[02:14.56] What y'all niggas want\n[02:16.91] Thug life is mine\n[02:19.34] Y'all need to give it up\n[02:21.93] 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n[02:24.07] What y'all niggas want\n[02:26.12] Thug life is mine\n[02:27.25] Silk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\n[02:29.28] Halle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\n[02:32.63] Silk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\n[02:35.60] And I'll front like my doo-doo don't stink\n[02:37.36] Instinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\n[02:40.06] Hazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\n[02:42.12] Everybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\n[02:45.08] Just to think, that was yesterday's action\n[02:46.97] 'Cause today goes either way, we came a long way\n[02:49.60] From hallway steps and hand-me-down shit\n[02:51.22] Fuck my foes, I seen the other side, Nextel cell roam\n[02:54.10] Call the chopper phone, heliport in my home\n[02:56.53] Quincy Jones posters, wake up, guns\n[02:58.59] Under my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\n[03:01.26] Shit is better than a novel, autobiographic\n[03:03.63] Spit it on tracks, it becomes classic\n[03:05.73] Start some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n[03:08.45] Nastradamus, last one to blast one when the NARC's come\n[03:10.81] Know how to leave anything in thirty seconds\n[03:12.91] When you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\n[03:15.45] I'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\n[03:17.81] Your flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\n[03:20.24] Cremate your flesh to ashes, you don't need\n[03:22.63] A suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n[03:26.07] Y'all need to give it up\n[03:28.52] We don't give a fuck\n[03:30.93] What y'all niggas want\n[03:32.53] Thug life is mine\n[03:35.43] Y'all need to give it up\n[03:38.11] 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n[03:40.55] What y'all niggas want\n[03:42.78] Thug life is mine\n[03:47.41] Thug life is mine\n[03:52.08] Thug life is mine\n[03:56.08] Uh, thug life is mine\n[04:00.05] Ill Will\n[04:02.05] Need to give it up\n[04:04.49] We don't give a fuck\n[04:06.84] What y'all niggas want\n[04:09.11] We don't give a fuck\n[04:11.29] Thug life is mine\n[04:13.85] Y'all need to give it up\n[04:16.32] We don't give a fuck\n[04:18.72] What y'all niggas want\n[04:20.64] Thug life is mine\n[04:22.99] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: It's Mine\n artist: Mobb Deep\n album: The Illest (Bootleg)\n duration_ms: 263711\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yeah, yeah (hahahaha)\n start_ms: 6560\n end_ms: 9150\n- text: Uh-huh, yeah-yeah (hahahaha)\n start_ms: 9150\n end_ms: 11310\n- text: Huh, yo, you know it (hahahaha)\n start_ms: 11310\n end_ms: 12960\n- text: Infamous ninety-nine (infamous ninety-nine)\n start_ms: 12960\n end_ms: 15010\n- text: (Hahahaha)\n start_ms: 15010\n end_ms: 15390\n- text: Infamous two thousand\n start_ms: 15390\n end_ms: 16770\n- text: Ain't nuttin' but thugs over here, baby\n start_ms: 16770\n end_ms: 18580\n- text: (Ahahahaha)\n start_ms: 18580\n end_ms: 21440\n- text: Yo (hahahaha)\n start_ms: 21440\n end_ms: 23580\n- text: Straight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\n start_ms: 23580\n end_ms: 26420\n- text: Like the terminal ill takin' they last breath\n start_ms: 26420\n end_ms: 28850\n- text: Read your last rites, God, forgive me\n start_ms: 28850\n end_ms: 30660\n- text: For the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\n start_ms: 30660\n end_ms: 33020\n- text: Kill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\n start_ms: 33020\n end_ms: 35450\n- text: Readin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\n start_ms: 35450\n end_ms: 38160\n- text: Keep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\n start_ms: 38160\n end_ms: 40240\n- text: Hearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\n start_ms: 40240\n end_ms: 43180\n- text: Sleep with half closed eyelids\n start_ms: 43180\n end_ms: 44440\n- text: Some say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\n start_ms: 44440\n end_ms: 47600\n- text: Go easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\n start_ms: 47600\n end_ms: 49930\n- text: Niggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\n start_ms: 49930\n end_ms: 52340\n- text: Scopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District\n start_ms: 52340\n end_ms: 54980\n- text: Jeweler with they hand on the biscuit\n start_ms: 54980\n end_ms: 57350\n- text: Do you, wanna get caught lifted\n start_ms: 57350\n end_ms: 59930\n- text: Or sober, so you can react quick?\n start_ms: 59930\n end_ms: 61840\n- text: Blow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\n start_ms: 61840\n end_ms: 64780\n- text: On my thousand dollar mattress\n start_ms: 64780\n end_ms: 66360\n- text: It's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\n start_ms: 66360\n end_ms: 69250\n- text: A moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n start_ms: 69250\n end_ms: 72470\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 72470\n end_ms: 75120\n- text: We don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 75120\n end_ms: 77210\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 77210\n end_ms: 79720\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 79720\n end_ms: 82340\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 82340\n end_ms: 84460\n- text: '''Cause we don''t give a fuck'\n start_ms: 84460\n end_ms: 86730\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 86730\n end_ms: 89120\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 89120\n end_ms: 90530\n- text: I got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\n start_ms: 90530\n end_ms: 92610\n- text: If it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (very-very)\n start_ms: 92610\n end_ms: 95580\n- text: The streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\n start_ms: 95580\n end_ms: 97930\n- text: So when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\n start_ms: 97930\n end_ms: 100330\n- text: Keep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\n start_ms: 100330\n end_ms: 101930\n- text: Been through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\n start_ms: 101930\n end_ms: 104590\n- text: Apply street rules to the office, high performance\n start_ms: 104590\n end_ms: 107250\n- text: Rap author, made millions off of\n start_ms: 107250\n end_ms: 109900\n- text: Melodic, hypnotic productions\n start_ms: 109900\n end_ms: 111650\n- text: That'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (you feel me? You feel me?)\n start_ms: 111650\n end_ms: 114600\n- text: You feel me? I'll write a graphic page\n start_ms: 114600\n end_ms: 116180\n- text: Escort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\n start_ms: 116180\n end_ms: 119190\n- text: We the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (don't get no realer than this)\n start_ms: 119190\n end_ms: 121780\n- text: It's more real than any words I can muster\n start_ms: 121780\n end_ms: 123810\n- text: Pull the black Cadillac trucks up (what?)\n start_ms: 123810\n end_ms: 126330\n- text: Hop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n start_ms: 126330\n end_ms: 129770\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 129770\n end_ms: 132360\n- text: We don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 132360\n end_ms: 134560\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 134560\n end_ms: 136910\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 136910\n end_ms: 139340\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 139340\n end_ms: 141930\n- text: '''Cause we don''t give a fuck'\n start_ms: 141930\n end_ms: 144070\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 144070\n end_ms: 146120\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 146120\n end_ms: 147250\n- text: Silk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\n start_ms: 147250\n end_ms: 149280\n- text: Halle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\n start_ms: 149280\n end_ms: 152630\n- text: Silk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\n start_ms: 152630\n end_ms: 155600\n- text: And I'll front like my doo-doo don't stink\n start_ms: 155600\n end_ms: 157360\n- text: Instinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\n start_ms: 157360\n end_ms: 160060\n- text: Hazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\n start_ms: 160060\n end_ms: 162120\n- text: Everybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\n start_ms: 162120\n end_ms: 165080\n- text: Just to think, that was yesterday's action\n start_ms: 165080\n end_ms: 166970\n- text: '''Cause today goes either way, we came a long way'\n start_ms: 166970\n end_ms: 169600\n- text: From hallway steps and hand-me-down shit\n start_ms: 169600\n end_ms: 171220\n- text: Fuck my foes, I seen the other side, Nextel cell roam\n start_ms: 171220\n end_ms: 174100\n- text: Call the chopper phone, heliport in my home\n start_ms: 174100\n end_ms: 176530\n- text: Quincy Jones posters, wake up, guns\n start_ms: 176530\n end_ms: 178590\n- text: Under my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\n start_ms: 178590\n end_ms: 181260\n- text: Shit is better than a novel, autobiographic\n start_ms: 181260\n end_ms: 183630\n- text: Spit it on tracks, it becomes classic\n start_ms: 183630\n end_ms: 185730\n- text: Start some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n start_ms: 185730\n end_ms: 188450\n- text: Nastradamus, last one to blast one when the NARC's come\n start_ms: 188450\n end_ms: 190810\n- text: Know how to leave anything in thirty seconds\n start_ms: 190810\n end_ms: 192910\n- text: When you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\n start_ms: 192910\n end_ms: 195450\n- text: I'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\n start_ms: 195450\n end_ms: 197810\n- text: Your flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\n start_ms: 197810\n end_ms: 200240\n- text: Cremate your flesh to ashes, you don't need\n start_ms: 200240\n end_ms: 202630\n- text: A suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n start_ms: 202630\n end_ms: 206070\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 206070\n end_ms: 208520\n- text: We don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 208520\n end_ms: 210930\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 210930\n end_ms: 212530\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 212530\n end_ms: 215430\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 215430\n end_ms: 218110\n- text: '''Cause we don''t give a fuck'\n start_ms: 218110\n end_ms: 220550\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 220550\n end_ms: 222780\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 222780\n end_ms: 227410\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 227410\n end_ms: 232080\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 232080\n end_ms: 236080\n- text: Uh, thug life is mine\n start_ms: 236080\n end_ms: 240050\n- text: Ill Will\n start_ms: 240050\n end_ms: 242050\n- text: Need to give it up\n start_ms: 242050\n end_ms: 244490\n- text: We don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 244490\n end_ms: 246840\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 246840\n end_ms: 249110\n- text: We don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 249110\n end_ms: 251290\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 251290\n end_ms: 253850\n- text: Y'all need to give it up\n start_ms: 253850\n end_ms: 256320\n- text: We don't give a fuck\n start_ms: 256320\n end_ms: 258720\n- text: What y'all niggas want\n start_ms: 258720\n end_ms: 260640\n- text: Thug life is mine\n start_ms: 260640\n end_ms: 262990\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 262990\nplain: |-\n Yeah, yeah (hahahaha)\n Uh-huh, yeah-yeah (hahahaha)\n Huh, yo, you know it (hahahaha)\n Infamous ninety-nine (infamous ninety-nine)\n (Hahahaha)\n Infamous two thousand\n Ain't nuttin' but thugs over here, baby\n (Ahahahaha)\n Yo (hahahaha)\n\n Straight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\n Like the terminal ill takin' they last breath\n Read your last rites, God, forgive me\n For the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\n Kill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\n Readin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\n Keep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\n Hearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\n Sleep with half closed eyelids\n\n Some say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\n Go easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\n Niggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\n Scopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District\n Jeweler with they hand on the biscuit\n Do you, wanna get caught lifted\n Or sober, so you can react quick?\n Blow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\n On my thousand dollar mattress\n It's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\n A moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n I got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\n If it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (very-very)\n The streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\n So when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\n Keep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\n Been through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\n Apply street rules to the office, high performance\n Rap author, made millions off of\n\n Melodic, hypnotic productions\n That'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (you feel me? You feel me?)\n You feel me? I'll write a graphic page\n Escort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\n We the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (don't get no realer than this)\n It's more real than any words I can muster\n Pull the black Cadillac trucks up (what?)\n Hop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n Silk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\n Halle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\n Silk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\n And I'll front like my doo-doo don't stink\n Instinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\n Hazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\n Everybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\n Just to think, that was yesterday's action\n 'Cause today goes either way, we came a long way\n\n From hallway steps and hand-me-down shit\n Fuck my foes, I seen the other side, Nextel cell roam\n Call the chopper phone, heliport in my home\n Quincy Jones posters, wake up, guns\n Under my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\n Shit is better than a novel, autobiographic\n Spit it on tracks, it becomes classic\n Start some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n\n Nastradamus, last one to blast one when the NARC's come\n Know how to leave anything in thirty seconds\n When you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\n I'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\n Your flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\n Cremate your flesh to ashes, you don't need\n A suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n Thug life is mine\n Thug life is mine\n Uh, thug life is mine\n Ill Will\n Need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n\n We don't give a fuck\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n"},{"id":18920425,"name":"Its Mine","trackName":"Its Mine","artistName":"Mobb Deep","albumName":"Project Sounds Presents Triple","duration":300.103,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah, yeah (hahahaha)\nUh-huh, yeah-yeah (hahahaha)\nHuh, yo, you know it (hahahaha)\nInfamous ninety-nine (infamous ninety-nine)\n(Hahahaha)\nInfamous two thousand\nAin't nuttin' but thugs over here, baby\n(Ahahahaha)\nYo (hahahaha)\n\nStraight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\nLike the terminal ill takin' they last breath\nRead your last rites, God, forgive me\nFor the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\nKill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\nReadin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\nKeep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\nHearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\nSleep with half closed eyelids\n\nSome say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\nGo easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\nNiggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\nScopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District\nJeweler with they hand on the biscuit\nDo you, wanna get caught lifted\nOr sober, so you can react quick?\nBlow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\nOn my thousand dollar mattress\nIt's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\nA moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cause we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nI got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\nIf it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (very-very)\nThe streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\nSo when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\nKeep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\nBeen through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\nApply street rules to the office, high performance\nRap author, made millions off of\n\nMelodic, hypnotic productions\nThat'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (you feel me? You feel me?)\nYou feel me? I'll write a graphic page\nEscort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\nWe the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (don't get no realer than this)\nIt's more real than any words I can muster\nPull the black Cadillac trucks up (what?)\nHop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cause we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nSilk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\nHalle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\nSilk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\nAnd I'll front like my doo-doo don't stink\nInstinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\nHazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\nEverybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\nJust to think, that was yesterday's action\n'Cause today goes either way, we came a long way\n\nFrom hallway steps and hand-me-down shit\nFuck my foes, I seen the other side, Nextel cell roam\nCall the chopper phone, heliport in my home\nQuincy Jones posters, wake up, guns\nUnder my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\nShit is better than a novel, autobiographic\nSpit it on tracks, it becomes classic\nStart some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n\nNastradamus, last one to blast one when the NARC's come\nKnow how to leave anything in thirty seconds\nWhen you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\nI'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\nYour flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\nCremate your flesh to ashes, you don't need\nA suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cause we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nThug life is mine\nThug life is mine\nUh, thug life is mine\nIll Will\nNeed to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\n\nWe don't give a fuck\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Its Mine\n artist: Mobb Deep\n album: Project Sounds Presents Triple\n duration_ms: 300103\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n Yeah, yeah (hahahaha)\n Uh-huh, yeah-yeah (hahahaha)\n Huh, yo, you know it (hahahaha)\n Infamous ninety-nine (infamous ninety-nine)\n (Hahahaha)\n Infamous two thousand\n Ain't nuttin' but thugs over here, baby\n (Ahahahaha)\n Yo (hahahaha)\n\n Straight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\n Like the terminal ill takin' they last breath\n Read your last rites, God, forgive me\n For the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\n Kill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\n Readin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\n Keep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\n Hearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\n Sleep with half closed eyelids\n\n Some say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\n Go easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\n Niggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\n Scopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District\n Jeweler with they hand on the biscuit\n Do you, wanna get caught lifted\n Or sober, so you can react quick?\n Blow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\n On my thousand dollar mattress\n It's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\n A moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n I got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\n If it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (very-very)\n The streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\n So when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\n Keep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\n Been through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\n Apply street rules to the office, high performance\n Rap author, made millions off of\n\n Melodic, hypnotic productions\n That'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (you feel me? You feel me?)\n You feel me? I'll write a graphic page\n Escort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\n We the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (don't get no realer than this)\n It's more real than any words I can muster\n Pull the black Cadillac trucks up (what?)\n Hop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n Silk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\n Halle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\n Silk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\n And I'll front like my doo-doo don't stink\n Instinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\n Hazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\n Everybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\n Just to think, that was yesterday's action\n 'Cause today goes either way, we came a long way\n\n From hallway steps and hand-me-down shit\n Fuck my foes, I seen the other side, Nextel cell roam\n Call the chopper phone, heliport in my home\n Quincy Jones posters, wake up, guns\n Under my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\n Shit is better than a novel, autobiographic\n Spit it on tracks, it becomes classic\n Start some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n\n Nastradamus, last one to blast one when the NARC's come\n Know how to leave anything in thirty seconds\n When you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\n I'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\n Your flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\n Cremate your flesh to ashes, you don't need\n A suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n Thug life is mine\n Thug life is mine\n Uh, thug life is mine\n Ill Will\n Need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n\n We don't give a fuck\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n"},{"id":20408445,"name":"It’s Mine","trackName":"It’s Mine","artistName":"Mobb Deep","albumName":"Murda Muzik","duration":259.6310272,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah, yeah (hahahaha)\nUh-huh, yeah-yeah (hahahaha)\nHuh, yo, you know it (hahahaha)\nInfamous ninety-nine (infamous ninety-nine)\n(Hahahaha)\nInfamous two thousand\nAin't nuttin' but thugs over here, baby\n(Ahahahaha)\nYo (hahahaha)\n\nStraight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\nLike the terminal ill takin' they last breath\nRead your last rites, God, forgive me\nFor the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\nKill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\nReadin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\nKeep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\nHearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\nSleep with half closed eyelids\n\nSome say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\nGo easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\nNiggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\nScopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District\nJeweler with they hand on the biscuit\nDo you, wanna get caught lifted\nOr sober, so you can react quick?\nBlow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\nOn my thousand dollar mattress\nIt's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\nA moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cause we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nI got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\nIf it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (very-very)\nThe streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\nSo when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\nKeep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\nBeen through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\nApply street rules to the office, high performance\nRap author, made millions off of\n\nMelodic, hypnotic productions\nThat'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (you feel me? You feel me?)\nYou feel me? I'll write a graphic page\nEscort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\nWe the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (don't get no realer than this)\nIt's more real than any words I can muster\nPull the black Cadillac trucks up (what?)\nHop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cause we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nSilk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\nHalle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\nSilk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\nAnd I'll front like my doo-doo don't stink\nInstinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\nHazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\nEverybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\nJust to think, that was yesterday's action\n'Cause today goes either way, we came a long way\n\nFrom hallway steps and hand-me-down shit\nFuck my foes, I seen the other side, Nextel cell roam\nCall the chopper phone, heliport in my home\nQuincy Jones posters, wake up, guns\nUnder my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\nShit is better than a novel, autobiographic\nSpit it on tracks, it becomes classic\nStart some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n\nNastradamus, last one to blast one when the NARC's come\nKnow how to leave anything in thirty seconds\nWhen you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\nI'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\nYour flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\nCremate your flesh to ashes, you don't need\nA suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cause we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nThug life is mine\nThug life is mine\nUh, thug life is mine\nIll Will\nNeed to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\n\nWe don't give a fuck\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: It’s Mine\n artist: Mobb Deep\n album: Murda Muzik\n duration_ms: 259631\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n Yeah, yeah (hahahaha)\n Uh-huh, yeah-yeah (hahahaha)\n Huh, yo, you know it (hahahaha)\n Infamous ninety-nine (infamous ninety-nine)\n (Hahahaha)\n Infamous two thousand\n Ain't nuttin' but thugs over here, baby\n (Ahahahaha)\n Yo (hahahaha)\n\n Straight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\n Like the terminal ill takin' they last breath\n Read your last rites, God, forgive me\n For the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\n Kill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\n Readin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\n Keep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\n Hearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\n Sleep with half closed eyelids\n\n Some say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\n Go easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\n Niggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\n Scopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District\n Jeweler with they hand on the biscuit\n Do you, wanna get caught lifted\n Or sober, so you can react quick?\n Blow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\n On my thousand dollar mattress\n It's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\n A moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n I got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\n If it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (very-very)\n The streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\n So when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\n Keep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\n Been through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\n Apply street rules to the office, high performance\n Rap author, made millions off of\n\n Melodic, hypnotic productions\n That'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (you feel me? You feel me?)\n You feel me? I'll write a graphic page\n Escort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\n We the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (don't get no realer than this)\n It's more real than any words I can muster\n Pull the black Cadillac trucks up (what?)\n Hop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n Silk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\n Halle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\n Silk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\n And I'll front like my doo-doo don't stink\n Instinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\n Hazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\n Everybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\n Just to think, that was yesterday's action\n 'Cause today goes either way, we came a long way\n\n From hallway steps and hand-me-down shit\n Fuck my foes, I seen the other side, Nextel cell roam\n Call the chopper phone, heliport in my home\n Quincy Jones posters, wake up, guns\n Under my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\n Shit is better than a novel, autobiographic\n Spit it on tracks, it becomes classic\n Start some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n\n Nastradamus, last one to blast one when the NARC's come\n Know how to leave anything in thirty seconds\n When you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\n I'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\n Your flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\n Cremate your flesh to ashes, you don't need\n A suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n Thug life is mine\n Thug life is mine\n Uh, thug life is mine\n Ill Will\n Need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n\n We don't give a fuck\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n"},{"id":24886010,"name":"It's Mine","trackName":"It's Mine","artistName":"Mobb Deep","albumName":"The Infamous","duration":256.287347,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah, yeah (hahahaha)\nUh-huh, yeah-yeah (hahahaha)\nHuh, yo, you know it (hahahaha)\nInfamous ninety-nine (infamous ninety-nine)\n(Hahahaha)\nInfamous two thousand\nAin't nuttin' but thugs over here, baby\n(Ahahahaha)\nYo (hahahaha)\n\nStraight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\nLike the terminal ill takin' they last breath\nRead your last rites, God, forgive me\nFor the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\nKill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\nReadin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\nKeep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\nHearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\nSleep with half closed eyelids\n\nSome say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\nGo easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\nNiggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\nScopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District\nJeweler with they hand on the biscuit\nDo you, wanna get caught lifted\nOr sober, so you can react quick?\nBlow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\nOn my thousand dollar mattress\nIt's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\nA moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cause we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nI got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\nIf it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (very-very)\nThe streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\nSo when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\nKeep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\nBeen through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\nApply street rules to the office, high performance\nRap author, made millions off of\n\nMelodic, hypnotic productions\nThat'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (you feel me? You feel me?)\nYou feel me? I'll write a graphic page\nEscort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\nWe the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (don't get no realer than this)\nIt's more real than any words I can muster\nPull the black Cadillac trucks up (what?)\nHop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cause we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nSilk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\nHalle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\nSilk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\nAnd I'll front like my doo-doo don't stink\nInstinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\nHazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\nEverybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\nJust to think, that was yesterday's action\n'Cause today goes either way, we came a long way\n\nFrom hallway steps and hand-me-down shit\nFuck my foes, I seen the other side, Nextel cell roam\nCall the chopper phone, heliport in my home\nQuincy Jones posters, wake up, guns\nUnder my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\nShit is better than a novel, autobiographic\nSpit it on tracks, it becomes classic\nStart some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n\nNastradamus, last one to blast one when the NARC's come\nKnow how to leave anything in thirty seconds\nWhen you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\nI'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\nYour flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\nCremate your flesh to ashes, you don't need\nA suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cause we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nThug life is mine\nThug life is mine\nUh, thug life is mine\nIll Will\nNeed to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\n\nWe don't give a fuck\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: It's Mine\n artist: Mobb Deep\n album: The Infamous\n duration_ms: 256287\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n Yeah, yeah (hahahaha)\n Uh-huh, yeah-yeah (hahahaha)\n Huh, yo, you know it (hahahaha)\n Infamous ninety-nine (infamous ninety-nine)\n (Hahahaha)\n Infamous two thousand\n Ain't nuttin' but thugs over here, baby\n (Ahahahaha)\n Yo (hahahaha)\n\n Straight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\n Like the terminal ill takin' they last breath\n Read your last rites, God, forgive me\n For the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\n Kill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\n Readin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\n Keep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\n Hearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\n Sleep with half closed eyelids\n\n Some say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\n Go easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\n Niggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\n Scopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District\n Jeweler with they hand on the biscuit\n Do you, wanna get caught lifted\n Or sober, so you can react quick?\n Blow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\n On my thousand dollar mattress\n It's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\n A moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n I got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\n If it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (very-very)\n The streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\n So when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\n Keep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\n Been through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\n Apply street rules to the office, high performance\n Rap author, made millions off of\n\n Melodic, hypnotic productions\n That'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (you feel me? You feel me?)\n You feel me? I'll write a graphic page\n Escort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\n We the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (don't get no realer than this)\n It's more real than any words I can muster\n Pull the black Cadillac trucks up (what?)\n Hop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n Silk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\n Halle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\n Silk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\n And I'll front like my doo-doo don't stink\n Instinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\n Hazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\n Everybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\n Just to think, that was yesterday's action\n 'Cause today goes either way, we came a long way\n\n From hallway steps and hand-me-down shit\n Fuck my foes, I seen the other side, Nextel cell roam\n Call the chopper phone, heliport in my home\n Quincy Jones posters, wake up, guns\n Under my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\n Shit is better than a novel, autobiographic\n Spit it on tracks, it becomes classic\n Start some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n\n Nastradamus, last one to blast one when the NARC's come\n Know how to leave anything in thirty seconds\n When you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\n I'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\n Your flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\n Cremate your flesh to ashes, you don't need\n A suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n Thug life is mine\n Thug life is mine\n Uh, thug life is mine\n Ill Will\n Need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n\n We don't give a fuck\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n"},{"id":23607824,"name":"It's Mine","trackName":"It's Mine","artistName":"Mobb Deep","albumName":"Classic Shit, vol. 1","duration":263.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah, yeah (ha ha ha ha) uh-huh, yeah yeah\n(Ha ha ha ha ha ha] Huh yo, you know it\nInfamous ninety-nine (infamous ninety-nine)\n(Ha ha ha ha) Infamous two thousand\n(Ain't nuttin but thugs over here baby)\n(Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha)\nYo straight thugs on this side it's do or die to the death\nLike the terminal ill takin they last breath\nRead your last rites God, forgive me\nFor the sin I'm about to commit takin a life\nKill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\nReadin my will you feel what I feel, you know the deal\nKeep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\nHearin noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\nSleep with half closed eyelids\nSome say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\nGo easy on the bottle, niggaz love to see when\nNiggaz slippin off point, on the strength they bet\nScopin your ice, appraisin it like the Diamond District Jeweler\nWith they hand on the biscuit\nDo ya, want to get caught lifted; or sober, so you can react quick?\nBlow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin my wife\nOn my thousand dollar mattress\nIt's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\nA moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\nY'all need to give it up we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggaz want thug, life, is, mine\nY'all need to give it up 'cause we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggaz want thug, life, is mine\nI got the style of a still-born child, I'm ill\nIf it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well\n(Very very) the sreets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\nSo when they start shootin, we'll stop the music\nKeep it moving that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon Dunn)\nBeen through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin\n(Still crawlin) apply street rules to the office, high performance\nRap author, made millions off of melodic, hypnotic productions\nThat'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions\n(You feel me? You feel me?)\nYou feel me? I'll write a graphic page\nEscort niggaz to they grave, relate to the projects\nWe the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music\n(Don't get no realer than this)\nIt's more real than any words I can muster\nPull the black Cadillac trucks up (what)\nHop out them shits like what? Y'all niggaz can't touch us\nSilk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\nHalle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\nSilk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\nAnd I'll front like my doo doo don't stink\nInstinct like Cuba Gooding steppin out the latest toy\nHazard lights blinkin, gators hit the floor\nEverybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin\nJust to think, that was yesterday's action\n'Cause today goes either way we came a long way\nFrom hallway steps and hand-me-down shit\nFuck my foes, I seen the other side, NexTel cell roam\nCall the chopper phone, heliport in my home\nQuincy Jones posters\nWake up, guns under my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\nShit is better than a novel, autobiographic\nSpit it on tracks, it becomes classic\nStart some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\nNastradamus, last one to blast one when the NARC's come\nKnow how to leave anything in thirty seconds\nWhen you feel the heat, comin and flee with the murder weapon\nI'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\nYour flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\nCremate your flesh to ashes\nYou don't need a suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\nThe, life, is, mine\nI'll will\nYou need to give it up we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggaz want we don't give a fuck\nThug, life, is, mine\nY'all need to give it up we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggaz want thug, life, is, mine","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: It's Mine\n artist: Mobb Deep\n album: Classic Shit, vol. 1\n duration_ms: 263000\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n Yeah, yeah (ha ha ha ha) uh-huh, yeah yeah\n (Ha ha ha ha ha ha] Huh yo, you know it\n Infamous ninety-nine (infamous ninety-nine)\n (Ha ha ha ha) Infamous two thousand\n (Ain't nuttin but thugs over here baby)\n (Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha)\n Yo straight thugs on this side it's do or die to the death\n Like the terminal ill takin they last breath\n Read your last rites God, forgive me\n For the sin I'm about to commit takin a life\n Kill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\n Readin my will you feel what I feel, you know the deal\n Keep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\n Hearin noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\n Sleep with half closed eyelids\n Some say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\n Go easy on the bottle, niggaz love to see when\n Niggaz slippin off point, on the strength they bet\n Scopin your ice, appraisin it like the Diamond District Jeweler\n With they hand on the biscuit\n Do ya, want to get caught lifted; or sober, so you can react quick?\n Blow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin my wife\n On my thousand dollar mattress\n It's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\n A moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n Y'all need to give it up we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggaz want thug, life, is, mine\n Y'all need to give it up 'cause we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggaz want thug, life, is mine\n I got the style of a still-born child, I'm ill\n If it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well\n (Very very) the sreets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\n So when they start shootin, we'll stop the music\n Keep it moving that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon Dunn)\n Been through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin\n (Still crawlin) apply street rules to the office, high performance\n Rap author, made millions off of melodic, hypnotic productions\n That'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions\n (You feel me? You feel me?)\n You feel me? I'll write a graphic page\n Escort niggaz to they grave, relate to the projects\n We the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music\n (Don't get no realer than this)\n It's more real than any words I can muster\n Pull the black Cadillac trucks up (what)\n Hop out them shits like what? Y'all niggaz can't touch us\n Silk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\n Halle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\n Silk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\n And I'll front like my doo doo don't stink\n Instinct like Cuba Gooding steppin out the latest toy\n Hazard lights blinkin, gators hit the floor\n Everybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin\n Just to think, that was yesterday's action\n 'Cause today goes either way we came a long way\n From hallway steps and hand-me-down shit\n Fuck my foes, I seen the other side, NexTel cell roam\n Call the chopper phone, heliport in my home\n Quincy Jones posters\n Wake up, guns under my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\n Shit is better than a novel, autobiographic\n Spit it on tracks, it becomes classic\n Start some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n Nastradamus, last one to blast one when the NARC's come\n Know how to leave anything in thirty seconds\n When you feel the heat, comin and flee with the murder weapon\n I'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\n Your flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\n Cremate your flesh to ashes\n You don't need a suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n The, life, is, mine\n I'll will\n You need to give it up we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggaz want we don't give a fuck\n Thug, life, is, mine\n Y'all need to give it up we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggaz want thug, life, is, mine\n"},{"id":22209574,"name":"It's Mine","trackName":"It's Mine","artistName":"Mobb Deep","albumName":"Murda Muzik (Explicit)","duration":263.825125,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah, yeah (hahahaha)\nUh-huh, yeah-yeah (hahahaha)\nHuh, yo, you know it (hahahaha)\nInfamous ninety-nine (infamous ninety-nine)\n(Hahahaha)\nInfamous two thousand\nAin't nuttin' but thugs over here, baby\n(Ahahahaha)\nYo (hahahaha)\n\nStraight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\nLike the terminal ill takin' they last breath\nRead your last rites, God, forgive me\nFor the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\nKill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\nReadin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\nKeep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\nHearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\nSleep with half closed eyelids\n\nSome say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\nGo easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\nNiggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\nScopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District\nJeweler with they hand on the biscuit\nDo you, wanna get caught lifted\nOr sober, so you can react quick?\nBlow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\nOn my thousand dollar mattress\nIt's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\nA moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cause we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nI got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\nIf it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (very-very)\nThe streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\nSo when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\nKeep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\nBeen through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\nApply street rules to the office, high performance\nRap author, made millions off of\n\nMelodic, hypnotic productions\nThat'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (you feel me? You feel me?)\nYou feel me? I'll write a graphic page\nEscort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\nWe the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (don't get no realer than this)\nIt's more real than any words I can muster\nPull the black Cadillac trucks up (what?)\nHop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cause we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nSilk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\nHalle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\nSilk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\nAnd I'll front like my doo-doo don't stink\nInstinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\nHazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\nEverybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\nJust to think, that was yesterday's action\n'Cause today goes either way, we came a long way\n\nFrom hallway steps and hand-me-down shit\nFuck my foes, I seen the other side, Nextel cell roam\nCall the chopper phone, heliport in my home\nQuincy Jones posters, wake up, guns\nUnder my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\nShit is better than a novel, autobiographic\nSpit it on tracks, it becomes classic\nStart some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n\nNastradamus, last one to blast one when the NARC's come\nKnow how to leave anything in thirty seconds\nWhen you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\nI'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\nYour flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\nCremate your flesh to ashes, you don't need\nA suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\n'Cause we don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine\n\nThug life is mine\nThug life is mine\nUh, thug life is mine\nIll Will\nNeed to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\n\nWe don't give a fuck\nThug life is mine\nY'all need to give it up\nWe don't give a fuck\nWhat y'all niggas want\nThug life is mine","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: It's Mine\n artist: Mobb Deep\n album: Murda Muzik (Explicit)\n duration_ms: 263825\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n Yeah, yeah (hahahaha)\n Uh-huh, yeah-yeah (hahahaha)\n Huh, yo, you know it (hahahaha)\n Infamous ninety-nine (infamous ninety-nine)\n (Hahahaha)\n Infamous two thousand\n Ain't nuttin' but thugs over here, baby\n (Ahahahaha)\n Yo (hahahaha)\n\n Straight thugs on this side, it's do or die to the death\n Like the terminal ill takin' they last breath\n Read your last rites, God, forgive me\n For the sin I'm about to commit, takin' a life\n Kill or be killed, rather that than somebody else\n Readin' my will, you feel what I feel, you know the deal\n Keep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head\n Hearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red\n Sleep with half closed eyelids\n\n Some say it's strange, sometimes that's how strange life get\n Go easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when\n Niggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet\n Scopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District\n Jeweler with they hand on the biscuit\n Do you, wanna get caught lifted\n Or sober, so you can react quick?\n Blow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin' my wife\n On my thousand dollar mattress\n It's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me\n A moms that loved me and a pops that raised me\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n I got the style of a stillborn child, I'm ill\n If it's beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he's done well (very-very)\n The streets raised me crazy, now I'm immune to it\n So when they start shootin', we don't stop the music\n Keep it movin' that's how we do it (c'mon, c'mon, Dunn)\n Been through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin' (still crawlin')\n Apply street rules to the office, high performance\n Rap author, made millions off of\n\n Melodic, hypnotic productions\n That'll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions (you feel me? You feel me?)\n You feel me? I'll write a graphic page\n Escort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects\n We the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music (don't get no realer than this)\n It's more real than any words I can muster\n Pull the black Cadillac trucks up (what?)\n Hop out them shits like what? Y'all niggas can't touch us\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n Silk shirts on my chest show what a flirt\n Halle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert\n Silk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing\n And I'll front like my doo-doo don't stink\n Instinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy\n Hazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor\n Everybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'\n Just to think, that was yesterday's action\n 'Cause today goes either way, we came a long way\n\n From hallway steps and hand-me-down shit\n Fuck my foes, I seen the other side, Nextel cell roam\n Call the chopper phone, heliport in my home\n Quincy Jones posters, wake up, guns\n Under my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs\n Shit is better than a novel, autobiographic\n Spit it on tracks, it becomes classic\n Start some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son\n\n Nastradamus, last one to blast one when the NARC's come\n Know how to leave anything in thirty seconds\n When you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon\n I'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson\n Your flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it\n Cremate your flesh to ashes, you don't need\n A suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket\n\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n 'Cause we don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n\n Thug life is mine\n Thug life is mine\n Uh, thug life is mine\n Ill Will\n Need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n\n We don't give a fuck\n Thug life is mine\n Y'all need to give it up\n We don't give a fuck\n What y'all niggas want\n Thug life is mine\n"}]