[{"id":9623605,"name":"Banned from TV","trackName":"Banned from TV","artistName":"N.O.R.E., Big Pun, Cam'ron, Jadakiss, Nature, Styles P","albumName":"N.O.R.E","duration":311.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"N.O.R.E the movie coming soon\nTimbaland, shut the fuck up\nTryna be out in '98, you know\nI'm tryna watch this movie, this the real shit\nShut the fuck up, '98, it's ours\n\nRegardless of rain or snow, sleet or hail\nI kick street tales, choking niggas like I'm Sprewell\nGolden State, holding your fate in the palm of my hand\nBlow you away like it's part of the plan\nI gotta call it like I see it, talk it like I be it\nWalking my walk, thugged out orthopedic\nCause I'm soon to be up, give me room watch me heat up\nNiggas try to stick me like Abdul Louima\nFollow the leader, make me go extra hard\nYo N.O.R.E. should I hold back or show the repertoire\nQuit at sixteen or throw in extra bars just for the non-believers\nI show them why it's so hard to reach us\nI get pussy with my father's features, puff heavily\nSee me at 6'1\", weigh a buck 70\nCatch me in spots y'all niggas never be\nPacked in like Green Bay, Harlem week to Queens day\nPerforming acapella, no DJ\n'98 Live, no replays, make it seem easy\nSo tell a friend to tell a friend\nThat it's them again, Nature, Noreaga, wild gremlins\n\nChampagne on the rocks, sporting a Fort Knox Lazarus\nShark salad with carrots, pork chops and applesauce\nTwin connection, disrespect watch your body cave in\nPump the shotty guaging, hit the shorty while he potty training\nI ain't playing, I'm truly the worst\nYou'll be the first to get his whole body fully reversed\nUzi ya hearse, leave you double-dead, I'm a bubble-head\nI never listen to nothing my mother said\nI hold niggas ransom for money like Johnny Handsome\nBeen soning niggas for so long, I think I got a grandson\nMy passion is money, a stash and a honey\nThat won't ask questions but will blast anybody\nThat's my kind of girl, kind of world I want to live in\nNot a cell or a prison or in Hell's Armageddon\nJust a little ghetto where my niggas control the middle\nWe know the riddles of life where others know only a little\n\nBeen in rich places, sick places\nSeen my story, 6, 666 pages\nWages, I rolled six aces and at the same dice games\nI caught six cases, all over big faces\nNow it's tipped laces, ready to dig faces\nBut the banger ain't a bit spacious\nNiggas loading up their rib cages, cats like the rib places\nBloody lip taste it, but Cam is a big racist\nBut I stay in import the pig places\nBut the world know the girl though, I fuck her off a furlough\nShe'll be up, hook me up, all your sales could be luck\nOnly question for these ducks is, \"Baby girl could we fuck?\"\nYou the type that need a wife\nThought L-O-X told y'all the key to life, asshole\nYo I don't play around, I lay it down, fuck around, I spray a round\nFlick a biscuit, nigga risk it, my ass you can kick or kiss it\n\nAin't no niggas in the world more thorough than this\nBust off and sit the hot barrel dead on your lips\nLike two thirds of a brick, (Paniero) and 'Kiss\nThe kiss the crystal white fluffy part that'll (come back quick\n(See the plan is to stash all) and cash y'all\n(The weed so strong), they gotta put it glass jars\nNiggas try to smoke me out the (moke me out)\nCause the rims on my new joint be poking out\n(I'm about to have no feelings, shit is deep)\nDo they dance with the Devil when they sleep\n(I wake up gripping the air, wishing to hear)\nShit that they kick in your ear when your soul drift in the air\n(My gift is half-rotten when I'm spitting some tears\nThat shit'll drop down my eye, I'm too tired to cry)\nAnd I ain't never seen a nigga that too live to die\n(They say you get what you ask for) So get it cause you asked for it\n(If a nigga ain't a thief) then he better have the cash for it\n(And we gonna be around till ya body rot)\nAnd if the Feds bring us in we get the same time Gotti got nigga\n\nThere's two ways into the hood, one plain\nThe other smoke chronic like straight to the brain\nLet's get loose, Hennessy straight with tomato juice\nQueens stallion, my guns, fully Italian\nNow y'all niggas recognize medallions\nI play the best hood, O-T with Tim Westwood\nUsed to be on Section 8, now my section is good\nThugged out niggas, we eat as much as we could\nAnd I don't give a fuck what, yo I save my shit\nAnd I don't give a fuck what, you can save your shit\nY'all niggas like extra skin on my dick\nListen to Bob Marley, y'all funny niggas like Steve Harvey\nFronting live with a weak army\nI play the nice guy too and even smoke with you\nBut the realness, I ain't got no love for you\nThat's why I never do a song with you\nNot even if your baby moms fucked the crew\nAnd promised to give us head and swallow too\nI still say low, no is no, no can do\nYa niggas drinking Haterade, drinking my flow\n\nYo, thug shit thug shit what what\nWhat the fuck is the deal, thugged out entertainment\nUntertainment\nL-o-x, Terror Squad, this shit is fuckin' official","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Banned from TV\n  artist: N.O.R.E., Big Pun, Cam'ron, Jadakiss, Nature, Styles P\n  album: N.O.R.E\n  duration_ms: 311000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  N.O.R.E the movie coming soon\n  Timbaland, shut the fuck up\n  Tryna be out in '98, you know\n  I'm tryna watch this movie, this the real shit\n  Shut the fuck up, '98, it's ours\n\n  Regardless of rain or snow, sleet or hail\n  I kick street tales, choking niggas like I'm Sprewell\n  Golden State, holding your fate in the palm of my hand\n  Blow you away like it's part of the plan\n  I gotta call it like I see it, talk it like I be it\n  Walking my walk, thugged out orthopedic\n  Cause I'm soon to be up, give me room watch me heat up\n  Niggas try to stick me like Abdul Louima\n  Follow the leader, make me go extra hard\n  Yo N.O.R.E. should I hold back or show the repertoire\n  Quit at sixteen or throw in extra bars just for the non-believers\n  I show them why it's so hard to reach us\n  I get pussy with my father's features, puff heavily\n  See me at 6'1\", weigh a buck 70\n  Catch me in spots y'all niggas never be\n  Packed in like Green Bay, Harlem week to Queens day\n  Performing acapella, no DJ\n  '98 Live, no replays, make it seem easy\n  So tell a friend to tell a friend\n  That it's them again, Nature, Noreaga, wild gremlins\n\n  Champagne on the rocks, sporting a Fort Knox Lazarus\n  Shark salad with carrots, pork chops and applesauce\n  Twin connection, disrespect watch your body cave in\n  Pump the shotty guaging, hit the shorty while he potty training\n  I ain't playing, I'm truly the worst\n  You'll be the first to get his whole body fully reversed\n  Uzi ya hearse, leave you double-dead, I'm a bubble-head\n  I never listen to nothing my mother said\n  I hold niggas ransom for money like Johnny Handsome\n  Been soning niggas for so long, I think I got a grandson\n  My passion is money, a stash and a honey\n  That won't ask questions but will blast anybody\n  That's my kind of girl, kind of world I want to live in\n  Not a cell or a prison or in Hell's Armageddon\n  Just a little ghetto where my niggas control the middle\n  We know the riddles of life where others know only a little\n\n  Been in rich places, sick places\n  Seen my story, 6, 666 pages\n  Wages, I rolled six aces and at the same dice games\n  I caught six cases, all over big faces\n  Now it's tipped laces, ready to dig faces\n  But the banger ain't a bit spacious\n  Niggas loading up their rib cages, cats like the rib places\n  Bloody lip taste it, but Cam is a big racist\n  But I stay in import the pig places\n  But the world know the girl though, I fuck her off a furlough\n  She'll be up, hook me up, all your sales could be luck\n  Only question for these ducks is, \"Baby girl could we fuck?\"\n  You the type that need a wife\n  Thought L-O-X told y'all the key to life, asshole\n  Yo I don't play around, I lay it down, fuck around, I spray a round\n  Flick a biscuit, nigga risk it, my ass you can kick or kiss it\n\n  Ain't no niggas in the world more thorough than this\n  Bust off and sit the hot barrel dead on your lips\n  Like two thirds of a brick, (Paniero) and 'Kiss\n  The kiss the crystal white fluffy part that'll (come back quick\n  (See the plan is to stash all) and cash y'all\n  (The weed so strong), they gotta put it glass jars\n  Niggas try to smoke me out the (moke me out)\n  Cause the rims on my new joint be poking out\n  (I'm about to have no feelings, shit is deep)\n  Do they dance with the Devil when they sleep\n  (I wake up gripping the air, wishing to hear)\n  Shit that they kick in your ear when your soul drift in the air\n  (My gift is half-rotten when I'm spitting some tears\n  That shit'll drop down my eye, I'm too tired to cry)\n  And I ain't never seen a nigga that too live to die\n  (They say you get what you ask for) So get it cause you asked for it\n  (If a nigga ain't a thief) then he better have the cash for it\n  (And we gonna be around till ya body rot)\n  And if the Feds bring us in we get the same time Gotti got nigga\n\n  There's two ways into the hood, one plain\n  The other smoke chronic like straight to the brain\n  Let's get loose, Hennessy straight with tomato juice\n  Queens stallion, my guns, fully Italian\n  Now y'all niggas recognize medallions\n  I play the best hood, O-T with Tim Westwood\n  Used to be on Section 8, now my section is good\n  Thugged out niggas, we eat as much as we could\n  And I don't give a fuck what, yo I save my shit\n  And I don't give a fuck what, you can save your shit\n  Y'all niggas like extra skin on my dick\n  Listen to Bob Marley, y'all funny niggas like Steve Harvey\n  Fronting live with a weak army\n  I play the nice guy too and even smoke with you\n  But the realness, I ain't got no love for you\n  That's why I never do a song with you\n  Not even if your baby moms fucked the crew\n  And promised to give us head and swallow too\n  I still say low, no is no, no can do\n  Ya niggas drinking Haterade, drinking my flow\n\n  Yo, thug shit thug shit what what\n  What the fuck is the deal, thugged out entertainment\n  Untertainment\n  L-o-x, Terror Squad, this shit is fuckin' official\n"},{"id":29863507,"name":"Banned From TV","trackName":"Banned From TV","artistName":"N.O.R.E. feat. Nature, Big Pun, Cam'ron, Styles P & Jadakiss","albumName":"N.O.R.E.","duration":312.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"N.O.R.E, The Movement (c'mon), comin' soon\n(What? Shut the fuck up)\n(Trying to watch this movie)\nYo, Jungle (shut the fuck up)\n'98, it's ours (yeah)\n\nAyo, ayo, regardless of rain or snow, sleet or hail\nI kick street tales, choking niggas like I'm Sprewell\nGolden State, holding your fate in the palm of my hand\nBlow you away like it's part of the plan\n\nI gotta call it like I see it, talk it like I be it\nWalking my walk, thugged out orthopedic\n'Cause I'm soon to be up, give me room, watch me heat up\nNiggas try to stick me like Abner Louima\n\nFollow the leader, make me go extra hard\nYo, N.O.R.E., should I hold back or show the repertoire?\nQuit at 16 or throw in extra bars just for the non-believers?\nI show 'em why it's so hard to reach us (why?)\n\nI get pussy with my father's features, puff heavily\nSee me at six-one, weigh a buck 70\nCatch me in spots y'all niggas never be\nPacked in (pack it in) like Green Bay, Harlem week to Queens day\n\nPerforming acapella, no DJ\n'98 live, no replays (how we do it?) Make it seem easy\nSo tell a friend to tell a friend that it's them again\nNature, Noreaga, wild gremlins (yo, yo, yo)\n\nChampagne on the rocks, sporting a Fort Knox Lazarus\nShark salad with carrots, pork chops and applesauce\nTwin connection, disrespect and watch your body cave in\nPump the shotty guage in, hit the shorty while he potty training\nI ain't playing, I'm truly the worst\nHe'll be the first to get his whole body fully reversed\nUzi your hearse, leave you double-dead, I'm a bubble-head\nI never listened to nothing my mother said\n\nAyo, I hold niggas ransom for money like Johnny Handsome\nBeen soning niggas so long, I think I got a grandson\nMy passion is money, a stash, and a honey\nThat won't ask no questions but'll blast anybody\nThat's my kind of girl, kind of world I want to live in\nNot a cell or a prison or in Hell's Armageddon\nJust a little ghetto where my niggas control the middle\nAnd know the riddles of life where others know only a little (uh-uh, uh, yeah, yo)\n\nBeen in rich places, sick places\nSee, my story six thousand, six hundred sixty-six pages\nWages, I rolled six aces (what?)\nAnd at the same dice game, I caught six cases all over big faces\nNow it's tipped laces, ready to dig faces\nBut the Bing, it ain't a bit spacious\nNiggas loading up they rib cages, cats like to rip places\nBloody lip tasters, Cam is a big racist\n\nBut I stay important, big places\nBut the world know your girl though, I fuck her off a furlough\nShould be up, hook me up, all your sales could be luck\nOnly question for these ducks is, \"Baby girl, could we fuck?\"\nYou the type that need a wife\nThought L-O-X told y'all the key to life, asshole\nYo, I don't play around, I lay it down, fuck around, I'll spray a round\nFlip a biscuit, nigga, risk it, my ass, you can kick or kiss it (yo)\n\nAin't no niggas in the world you know thorough than this\nBust off and sit the hot barrel dead on your lips\nLike two thirds of a brick, Paniero and 'Kiss\nThe crystal white fluffy parts that'll come back quick\n\nSee, the plan is to stash all, cash y'all's\nThe weed so strong, they gotta put it in glass jars\nNiggas try to smoke me out then moke me out\n'Cause the rims on my new joint be poking out\n\nI'm about to have no feelings, shit is deep\nDo they dance with the Devil when they sleep?\nI wake up gripping the air, wishing to hear\nShit that they kick in your ear when your soul drift in the air\n\nMy gift is half-rotten, when I spit, it's a tear\nThat shit'll drop down my eye, I'm too tired to cry\nAnd I ain't never seen a nigga that's too live to die\nThey say you get what you ask for, so get it 'cause you asked for it\n\nA nigga ain't a thief, then he better have the cash for it\nAnd we gon' be around 'til your body rot\nAnd if the Feds brung us in, we'd get the same time Gotti got\nNigga\n\nYo, yo, ayo, there's two ways into the hood, one plain\nThe other smoking chronic like straight to the brain\nYo, let's get loose, Hennessy straight with tomato juice\nQueens stallions, buy guns from the Italians\n\nNow y'all niggas recognize medallions\nI play the best hood, OT with Tim Westwood\nUsed to be on Section 8, now my section is good\nThugged out niggas, we eat as much as we could\n\nAnd I don't give a fuck, what? Yo, I say my shit\nAnd I don't give a fuck, what? You can save your shit\nY'all niggas like extra skin on my dick (uh-huh)\nListen to Bob Marley, y'all funny niggas like Steve Harvey\n\nYou fronting live with a weak army\nI play the nice guy too and even smoke with you\nBut the realness, I ain't got no love for you\nThat's why I'll never do a song with you\n\nNot even if your baby moms fucked the crew\nAnd promised to give us head and swallow too\nI still say no, no is no, no can though\nY'all niggas drinking Haterade, drinking my flow, yo\n\nThugged-Out\nReal motherfucking shit right here (thug shit right here, motherfucker)\nMotherfucking thug shit right here (thug shit, what?)\n(Fuck is the deal?) What?\n(What the fuck is the deal? What the fuck is the deal?)\n(What? What? What?)\n\nThugged-Out Entertainment (Thugged-Out Entertainment)\nUndertaiment (Undertaiment)\nFuck it, L-O-X, Ruff Ryders (L-O-X, Ryders), What?\n(What? What? What? What? What?)\nTerror Squad (Terror Squad)\nThis shit is fuckin' official right here","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Banned From TV\n  artist: N.O.R.E. feat. Nature, Big Pun, Cam'ron, Styles P & Jadakiss\n  album: N.O.R.E.\n  duration_ms: 312000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  N.O.R.E, The Movement (c'mon), comin' soon\n  (What? Shut the fuck up)\n  (Trying to watch this movie)\n  Yo, Jungle (shut the fuck up)\n  '98, it's ours (yeah)\n\n  Ayo, ayo, regardless of rain or snow, sleet or hail\n  I kick street tales, choking niggas like I'm Sprewell\n  Golden State, holding your fate in the palm of my hand\n  Blow you away like it's part of the plan\n\n  I gotta call it like I see it, talk it like I be it\n  Walking my walk, thugged out orthopedic\n  'Cause I'm soon to be up, give me room, watch me heat up\n  Niggas try to stick me like Abner Louima\n\n  Follow the leader, make me go extra hard\n  Yo, N.O.R.E., should I hold back or show the repertoire?\n  Quit at 16 or throw in extra bars just for the non-believers?\n  I show 'em why it's so hard to reach us (why?)\n\n  I get pussy with my father's features, puff heavily\n  See me at six-one, weigh a buck 70\n  Catch me in spots y'all niggas never be\n  Packed in (pack it in) like Green Bay, Harlem week to Queens day\n\n  Performing acapella, no DJ\n  '98 live, no replays (how we do it?) Make it seem easy\n  So tell a friend to tell a friend that it's them again\n  Nature, Noreaga, wild gremlins (yo, yo, yo)\n\n  Champagne on the rocks, sporting a Fort Knox Lazarus\n  Shark salad with carrots, pork chops and applesauce\n  Twin connection, disrespect and watch your body cave in\n  Pump the shotty guage in, hit the shorty while he potty training\n  I ain't playing, I'm truly the worst\n  He'll be the first to get his whole body fully reversed\n  Uzi your hearse, leave you double-dead, I'm a bubble-head\n  I never listened to nothing my mother said\n\n  Ayo, I hold niggas ransom for money like Johnny Handsome\n  Been soning niggas so long, I think I got a grandson\n  My passion is money, a stash, and a honey\n  That won't ask no questions but'll blast anybody\n  That's my kind of girl, kind of world I want to live in\n  Not a cell or a prison or in Hell's Armageddon\n  Just a little ghetto where my niggas control the middle\n  And know the riddles of life where others know only a little (uh-uh, uh, yeah, yo)\n\n  Been in rich places, sick places\n  See, my story six thousand, six hundred sixty-six pages\n  Wages, I rolled six aces (what?)\n  And at the same dice game, I caught six cases all over big faces\n  Now it's tipped laces, ready to dig faces\n  But the Bing, it ain't a bit spacious\n  Niggas loading up they rib cages, cats like to rip places\n  Bloody lip tasters, Cam is a big racist\n\n  But I stay important, big places\n  But the world know your girl though, I fuck her off a furlough\n  Should be up, hook me up, all your sales could be luck\n  Only question for these ducks is, \"Baby girl, could we fuck?\"\n  You the type that need a wife\n  Thought L-O-X told y'all the key to life, asshole\n  Yo, I don't play around, I lay it down, fuck around, I'll spray a round\n  Flip a biscuit, nigga, risk it, my ass, you can kick or kiss it (yo)\n\n  Ain't no niggas in the world you know thorough than this\n  Bust off and sit the hot barrel dead on your lips\n  Like two thirds of a brick, Paniero and 'Kiss\n  The crystal white fluffy parts that'll come back quick\n\n  See, the plan is to stash all, cash y'all's\n  The weed so strong, they gotta put it in glass jars\n  Niggas try to smoke me out then moke me out\n  'Cause the rims on my new joint be poking out\n\n  I'm about to have no feelings, shit is deep\n  Do they dance with the Devil when they sleep?\n  I wake up gripping the air, wishing to hear\n  Shit that they kick in your ear when your soul drift in the air\n\n  My gift is half-rotten, when I spit, it's a tear\n  That shit'll drop down my eye, I'm too tired to cry\n  And I ain't never seen a nigga that's too live to die\n  They say you get what you ask for, so get it 'cause you asked for it\n\n  A nigga ain't a thief, then he better have the cash for it\n  And we gon' be around 'til your body rot\n  And if the Feds brung us in, we'd get the same time Gotti got\n  Nigga\n\n  Yo, yo, ayo, there's two ways into the hood, one plain\n  The other smoking chronic like straight to the brain\n  Yo, let's get loose, Hennessy straight with tomato juice\n  Queens stallions, buy guns from the Italians\n\n  Now y'all niggas recognize medallions\n  I play the best hood, OT with Tim Westwood\n  Used to be on Section 8, now my section is good\n  Thugged out niggas, we eat as much as we could\n\n  And I don't give a fuck, what? Yo, I say my shit\n  And I don't give a fuck, what? You can save your shit\n  Y'all niggas like extra skin on my dick (uh-huh)\n  Listen to Bob Marley, y'all funny niggas like Steve Harvey\n\n  You fronting live with a weak army\n  I play the nice guy too and even smoke with you\n  But the realness, I ain't got no love for you\n  That's why I'll never do a song with you\n\n  Not even if your baby moms fucked the crew\n  And promised to give us head and swallow too\n  I still say no, no is no, no can though\n  Y'all niggas drinking Haterade, drinking my flow, yo\n\n  Thugged-Out\n  Real motherfucking shit right here (thug shit right here, motherfucker)\n  Motherfucking thug shit right here (thug shit, what?)\n  (Fuck is the deal?) What?\n  (What the fuck is the deal? What the fuck is the deal?)\n  (What? What? What?)\n\n  Thugged-Out Entertainment (Thugged-Out Entertainment)\n  Undertaiment (Undertaiment)\n  Fuck it, L-O-X, Ruff Ryders (L-O-X, Ryders), What?\n  (What? What? What? What? What?)\n  Terror Squad (Terror Squad)\n  This shit is fuckin' official right here\n"},{"id":29946307,"name":"Banned From TV","trackName":"Banned From TV","artistName":"N.O.R.E. Feat. Big Pun, Camron, Jadakiss, Nature, Styles P","albumName":"N.O.R.E","duration":312.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"N.O.R.E, The Movement (c'mon), comin' soon\n(What? Shut the fuck up)\n(Trying to watch this movie)\nYo, Jungle (shut the fuck up)\n'98, it's ours (yeah)\n\nAyo, ayo, regardless of rain or snow, sleet or hail\nI kick street tales, choking niggas like I'm Sprewell\nGolden State, holding your fate in the palm of my hand\nBlow you away like it's part of the plan\n\nI gotta call it like I see it, talk it like I be it\nWalking my walk, thugged out orthopedic\n'Cause I'm soon to be up, give me room, watch me heat up\nNiggas try to stick me like Abner Louima\n\nFollow the leader, make me go extra hard\nYo, N.O.R.E., should I hold back or show the repertoire?\nQuit at 16 or throw in extra bars just for the non-believers?\nI show 'em why it's so hard to reach us (why?)\n\nI get pussy with my father's features, puff heavily\nSee me at six-one, weigh a buck 70\nCatch me in spots y'all niggas never be\nPacked in (pack it in) like Green Bay, Harlem week to Queens day\n\nPerforming acapella, no DJ\n'98 live, no replays (how we do it?) Make it seem easy\nSo tell a friend to tell a friend that it's them again\nNature, Noreaga, wild gremlins (yo, yo, yo)\n\nChampagne on the rocks, sporting a Fort Knox Lazarus\nShark salad with carrots, pork chops and applesauce\nTwin connection, disrespect and watch your body cave in\nPump the shotty guage in, hit the shorty while he potty training\nI ain't playing, I'm truly the worst\nHe'll be the first to get his whole body fully reversed\nUzi your hearse, leave you double-dead, I'm a bubble-head\nI never listened to nothing my mother said\n\nAyo, I hold niggas ransom for money like Johnny Handsome\nBeen soning niggas so long, I think I got a grandson\nMy passion is money, a stash, and a honey\nThat won't ask no questions but'll blast anybody\nThat's my kind of girl, kind of world I want to live in\nNot a cell or a prison or in Hell's Armageddon\nJust a little ghetto where my niggas control the middle\nAnd know the riddles of life where others know only a little (uh-uh, uh, yeah, yo)\n\nBeen in rich places, sick places\nSee, my story six thousand, six hundred sixty-six pages\nWages, I rolled six aces (what?)\nAnd at the same dice game, I caught six cases all over big faces\nNow it's tipped laces, ready to dig faces\nBut the Bing, it ain't a bit spacious\nNiggas loading up they rib cages, cats like to rip places\nBloody lip tasters, Cam is a big racist\n\nBut I stay important, big places\nBut the world know your girl though, I fuck her off a furlough\nShould be up, hook me up, all your sales could be luck\nOnly question for these ducks is, \"Baby girl, could we fuck?\"\nYou the type that need a wife\nThought L-O-X told y'all the key to life, asshole\nYo, I don't play around, I lay it down, fuck around, I'll spray a round\nFlip a biscuit, nigga, risk it, my ass, you can kick or kiss it (yo)\n\nAin't no niggas in the world you know thorough than this\nBust off and sit the hot barrel dead on your lips\nLike two thirds of a brick, Paniero and 'Kiss\nThe crystal white fluffy parts that'll come back quick\n\nSee, the plan is to stash all, cash y'all's\nThe weed so strong, they gotta put it in glass jars\nNiggas try to smoke me out then moke me out\n'Cause the rims on my new joint be poking out\n\nI'm about to have no feelings, shit is deep\nDo they dance with the Devil when they sleep?\nI wake up gripping the air, wishing to hear\nShit that they kick in your ear when your soul drift in the air\n\nMy gift is half-rotten, when I spit, it's a tear\nThat shit'll drop down my eye, I'm too tired to cry\nAnd I ain't never seen a nigga that's too live to die\nThey say you get what you ask for, so get it 'cause you asked for it\n\nA nigga ain't a thief, then he better have the cash for it\nAnd we gon' be around 'til your body rot\nAnd if the Feds brung us in, we'd get the same time Gotti got\nNigga\n\nYo, yo, ayo, there's two ways into the hood, one plain\nThe other smoking chronic like straight to the brain\nYo, let's get loose, Hennessy straight with tomato juice\nQueens stallions, buy guns from the Italians\n\nNow y'all niggas recognize medallions\nI play the best hood, OT with Tim Westwood\nUsed to be on Section 8, now my section is good\nThugged out niggas, we eat as much as we could\n\nAnd I don't give a fuck, what? Yo, I say my shit\nAnd I don't give a fuck, what? You can save your shit\nY'all niggas like extra skin on my dick (uh-huh)\nListen to Bob Marley, y'all funny niggas like Steve Harvey\n\nYou fronting live with a weak army\nI play the nice guy too and even smoke with you\nBut the realness, I ain't got no love for you\nThat's why I'll never do a song with you\n\nNot even if your baby moms fucked the crew\nAnd promised to give us head and swallow too\nI still say no, no is no, no can though\nY'all niggas drinking Haterade, drinking my flow, yo\n\nThugged-Out\nReal motherfucking shit right here (thug shit right here, motherfucker)\nMotherfucking thug shit right here (thug shit, what?)\n(Fuck is the deal?) What?\n(What the fuck is the deal? What the fuck is the deal?)\n(What? What? What?)\n\nThugged-Out Entertainment (Thugged-Out Entertainment)\nUndertaiment (Undertaiment)\nFuck it, L-O-X, Ruff Ryders (L-O-X, Ryders), What?\n(What? What? What? What? What?)\nTerror Squad (Terror Squad)\nThis shit is fuckin' official right here","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Banned From TV\n  artist: N.O.R.E. Feat. Big Pun, Camron, Jadakiss, Nature, Styles P\n  album: N.O.R.E\n  duration_ms: 312000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  N.O.R.E, The Movement (c'mon), comin' soon\n  (What? Shut the fuck up)\n  (Trying to watch this movie)\n  Yo, Jungle (shut the fuck up)\n  '98, it's ours (yeah)\n\n  Ayo, ayo, regardless of rain or snow, sleet or hail\n  I kick street tales, choking niggas like I'm Sprewell\n  Golden State, holding your fate in the palm of my hand\n  Blow you away like it's part of the plan\n\n  I gotta call it like I see it, talk it like I be it\n  Walking my walk, thugged out orthopedic\n  'Cause I'm soon to be up, give me room, watch me heat up\n  Niggas try to stick me like Abner Louima\n\n  Follow the leader, make me go extra hard\n  Yo, N.O.R.E., should I hold back or show the repertoire?\n  Quit at 16 or throw in extra bars just for the non-believers?\n  I show 'em why it's so hard to reach us (why?)\n\n  I get pussy with my father's features, puff heavily\n  See me at six-one, weigh a buck 70\n  Catch me in spots y'all niggas never be\n  Packed in (pack it in) like Green Bay, Harlem week to Queens day\n\n  Performing acapella, no DJ\n  '98 live, no replays (how we do it?) Make it seem easy\n  So tell a friend to tell a friend that it's them again\n  Nature, Noreaga, wild gremlins (yo, yo, yo)\n\n  Champagne on the rocks, sporting a Fort Knox Lazarus\n  Shark salad with carrots, pork chops and applesauce\n  Twin connection, disrespect and watch your body cave in\n  Pump the shotty guage in, hit the shorty while he potty training\n  I ain't playing, I'm truly the worst\n  He'll be the first to get his whole body fully reversed\n  Uzi your hearse, leave you double-dead, I'm a bubble-head\n  I never listened to nothing my mother said\n\n  Ayo, I hold niggas ransom for money like Johnny Handsome\n  Been soning niggas so long, I think I got a grandson\n  My passion is money, a stash, and a honey\n  That won't ask no questions but'll blast anybody\n  That's my kind of girl, kind of world I want to live in\n  Not a cell or a prison or in Hell's Armageddon\n  Just a little ghetto where my niggas control the middle\n  And know the riddles of life where others know only a little (uh-uh, uh, yeah, yo)\n\n  Been in rich places, sick places\n  See, my story six thousand, six hundred sixty-six pages\n  Wages, I rolled six aces (what?)\n  And at the same dice game, I caught six cases all over big faces\n  Now it's tipped laces, ready to dig faces\n  But the Bing, it ain't a bit spacious\n  Niggas loading up they rib cages, cats like to rip places\n  Bloody lip tasters, Cam is a big racist\n\n  But I stay important, big places\n  But the world know your girl though, I fuck her off a furlough\n  Should be up, hook me up, all your sales could be luck\n  Only question for these ducks is, \"Baby girl, could we fuck?\"\n  You the type that need a wife\n  Thought L-O-X told y'all the key to life, asshole\n  Yo, I don't play around, I lay it down, fuck around, I'll spray a round\n  Flip a biscuit, nigga, risk it, my ass, you can kick or kiss it (yo)\n\n  Ain't no niggas in the world you know thorough than this\n  Bust off and sit the hot barrel dead on your lips\n  Like two thirds of a brick, Paniero and 'Kiss\n  The crystal white fluffy parts that'll come back quick\n\n  See, the plan is to stash all, cash y'all's\n  The weed so strong, they gotta put it in glass jars\n  Niggas try to smoke me out then moke me out\n  'Cause the rims on my new joint be poking out\n\n  I'm about to have no feelings, shit is deep\n  Do they dance with the Devil when they sleep?\n  I wake up gripping the air, wishing to hear\n  Shit that they kick in your ear when your soul drift in the air\n\n  My gift is half-rotten, when I spit, it's a tear\n  That shit'll drop down my eye, I'm too tired to cry\n  And I ain't never seen a nigga that's too live to die\n  They say you get what you ask for, so get it 'cause you asked for it\n\n  A nigga ain't a thief, then he better have the cash for it\n  And we gon' be around 'til your body rot\n  And if the Feds brung us in, we'd get the same time Gotti got\n  Nigga\n\n  Yo, yo, ayo, there's two ways into the hood, one plain\n  The other smoking chronic like straight to the brain\n  Yo, let's get loose, Hennessy straight with tomato juice\n  Queens stallions, buy guns from the Italians\n\n  Now y'all niggas recognize medallions\n  I play the best hood, OT with Tim Westwood\n  Used to be on Section 8, now my section is good\n  Thugged out niggas, we eat as much as we could\n\n  And I don't give a fuck, what? Yo, I say my shit\n  And I don't give a fuck, what? You can save your shit\n  Y'all niggas like extra skin on my dick (uh-huh)\n  Listen to Bob Marley, y'all funny niggas like Steve Harvey\n\n  You fronting live with a weak army\n  I play the nice guy too and even smoke with you\n  But the realness, I ain't got no love for you\n  That's why I'll never do a song with you\n\n  Not even if your baby moms fucked the crew\n  And promised to give us head and swallow too\n  I still say no, no is no, no can though\n  Y'all niggas drinking Haterade, drinking my flow, yo\n\n  Thugged-Out\n  Real motherfucking shit right here (thug shit right here, motherfucker)\n  Motherfucking thug shit right here (thug shit, what?)\n  (Fuck is the deal?) What?\n  (What the fuck is the deal? What the fuck is the deal?)\n  (What? What? What?)\n\n  Thugged-Out Entertainment (Thugged-Out Entertainment)\n  Undertaiment (Undertaiment)\n  Fuck it, L-O-X, Ruff Ryders (L-O-X, Ryders), What?\n  (What? What? What? What? What?)\n  Terror Squad (Terror Squad)\n  This shit is fuckin' official right here\n"},{"id":7687119,"name":"Banned From TV","trackName":"Banned From TV","artistName":"Noreaga feat. Big Pun, Cam'Ron, Jadakiss, Nature & Styles P","albumName":"N.O.R.E","duration":312.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"N.O.R.E the movie coming soon\nTimbaland, shut the fuck up\nTryna be out in '98, you know\nI'm tryna watch this movie, this the real shit\nShut the fuck up, '98, it's ours\n\nRegardless of rain or snow, sleet or hail\nI kick street tales, choking niggas like I'm Sprewell\nGolden State, holding your fate in the palm of my hand\nBlow you away like it's part of the plan\nI gotta call it like I see it, talk it like I be it\nWalking my walk, thugged out orthopedic\nCause I'm soon to be up, give me room watch me heat up\nNiggas try to stick me like Abdul Louima\nFollow the leader, make me go extra hard\nYo N.O.R.E. should I hold back or show the repertoire\nQuit at sixteen or throw in extra bars just for the non-believers\nI show them why it's so hard to reach us\nI get pussy with my father's features, puff heavily\nSee me at 6'1\", weigh a buck 70\nCatch me in spots y'all niggas never be\nPacked in like Green Bay, Harlem week to Queens day\nPerforming acapella, no DJ\n'98 Live, no replays, make it seem easy\nSo tell a friend to tell a friend\nThat it's them again, Nature, Noreaga, wild gremlins\n\nChampagne on the rocks, sporting a Fort Knox Lazarus\nShark salad with carrots, pork chops and applesauce\nTwin connection, disrespect watch your body cave in\nPump the shotty guaging, hit the shorty while he potty training\nI ain't playing, I'm truly the worst\nYou'll be the first to get his whole body fully reversed\nUzi ya hearse, leave you double-dead, I'm a bubble-head\nI never listen to nothing my mother said\nI hold niggas ransom for money like Johnny Handsome\nBeen soning niggas for so long, I think I got a grandson\nMy passion is money, a stash and a honey\nThat won't ask questions but will blast anybody\nThat's my kind of girl, kind of world I want to live in\nNot a cell or a prison or in Hell's Armageddon\nJust a little ghetto where my niggas control the middle\nWe know the riddles of life where others know only a little\n\nBeen in rich places, sick places\nSeen my story, 6, 666 pages\nWages, I rolled six aces and at the same dice games\nI caught six cases, all over big faces\nNow it's tipped laces, ready to dig faces\nBut the banger ain't a bit spacious\nNiggas loading up their rib cages, cats like the rib places\nBloody lip taste it, but Cam is a big racist\nBut I stay in import the pig places\nBut the world know the girl though, I fuck her off a furlough\nShe'll be up, hook me up, all your sales could be luck\nOnly question for these ducks is, \"Baby girl could we fuck?\"\nYou the type that need a wife\nThought L-O-X told y'all the key to life, asshole\nYo I don't play around, I lay it down, fuck around, I spray a round\nFlick a biscuit, nigga risk it, my ass you can kick or kiss it\n\nAin't no niggas in the world more thorough than this\nBust off and sit the hot barrel dead on your lips\nLike two thirds of a brick, (Paniero) and 'Kiss\nThe kiss the crystal white fluffy part that'll (come back quick\n(See the plan is to stash all) and cash y'all\n(The weed so strong), they gotta put it glass jars\nNiggas try to smoke me out the (moke me out)\nCause the rims on my new joint be poking out\n(I'm about to have no feelings, shit is deep)\nDo they dance with the Devil when they sleep\n(I wake up gripping the air, wishing to hear)\nShit that they kick in your ear when your soul drift in the air\n(My gift is half-rotten when I'm spitting some tears\nThat shit'll drop down my eye, I'm too tired to cry)\nAnd I ain't never seen a nigga that too live to die\n(They say you get what you ask for) So get it cause you asked for it\n(If a nigga ain't a thief) then he better have the cash for it\n(And we gonna be around till ya body rot)\nAnd if the Feds bring us in we get the same time Gotti got nigga\n\nThere's two ways into the hood, one plain\nThe other smoke chronic like straight to the brain\nLet's get loose, Hennessy straight with tomato juice\nQueens stallion, my guns, fully Italian\nNow y'all niggas recognize medallions\nI play the best hood, O-T with Tim Westwood\nUsed to be on Section 8, now my section is good\nThugged out niggas, we eat as much as we could\nAnd I don't give a fuck what, yo I save my shit\nAnd I don't give a fuck what, you can save your shit\nY'all niggas like extra skin on my dick\nListen to Bob Marley, y'all funny niggas like Steve Harvey\nFronting live with a weak army\nI play the nice guy too and even smoke with you\nBut the realness, I ain't got no love for you\nThat's why I never do a song with you\nNot even if your baby moms fucked the crew\nAnd promised to give us head and swallow too\nI still say low, no is no, no can do\nYa niggas drinking Haterade, drinking my flow\n\nYo, thug shit thug shit what what\nWhat the fuck is the deal, thugged out entertainment\nUntertainment\nL-o-x, Terror Squad, this shit is fuckin' official","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Banned From TV\n  artist: Noreaga feat. Big Pun, Cam'Ron, Jadakiss, Nature & Styles P\n  album: N.O.R.E\n  duration_ms: 312000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  N.O.R.E the movie coming soon\n  Timbaland, shut the fuck up\n  Tryna be out in '98, you know\n  I'm tryna watch this movie, this the real shit\n  Shut the fuck up, '98, it's ours\n\n  Regardless of rain or snow, sleet or hail\n  I kick street tales, choking niggas like I'm Sprewell\n  Golden State, holding your fate in the palm of my hand\n  Blow you away like it's part of the plan\n  I gotta call it like I see it, talk it like I be it\n  Walking my walk, thugged out orthopedic\n  Cause I'm soon to be up, give me room watch me heat up\n  Niggas try to stick me like Abdul Louima\n  Follow the leader, make me go extra hard\n  Yo N.O.R.E. should I hold back or show the repertoire\n  Quit at sixteen or throw in extra bars just for the non-believers\n  I show them why it's so hard to reach us\n  I get pussy with my father's features, puff heavily\n  See me at 6'1\", weigh a buck 70\n  Catch me in spots y'all niggas never be\n  Packed in like Green Bay, Harlem week to Queens day\n  Performing acapella, no DJ\n  '98 Live, no replays, make it seem easy\n  So tell a friend to tell a friend\n  That it's them again, Nature, Noreaga, wild gremlins\n\n  Champagne on the rocks, sporting a Fort Knox Lazarus\n  Shark salad with carrots, pork chops and applesauce\n  Twin connection, disrespect watch your body cave in\n  Pump the shotty guaging, hit the shorty while he potty training\n  I ain't playing, I'm truly the worst\n  You'll be the first to get his whole body fully reversed\n  Uzi ya hearse, leave you double-dead, I'm a bubble-head\n  I never listen to nothing my mother said\n  I hold niggas ransom for money like Johnny Handsome\n  Been soning niggas for so long, I think I got a grandson\n  My passion is money, a stash and a honey\n  That won't ask questions but will blast anybody\n  That's my kind of girl, kind of world I want to live in\n  Not a cell or a prison or in Hell's Armageddon\n  Just a little ghetto where my niggas control the middle\n  We know the riddles of life where others know only a little\n\n  Been in rich places, sick places\n  Seen my story, 6, 666 pages\n  Wages, I rolled six aces and at the same dice games\n  I caught six cases, all over big faces\n  Now it's tipped laces, ready to dig faces\n  But the banger ain't a bit spacious\n  Niggas loading up their rib cages, cats like the rib places\n  Bloody lip taste it, but Cam is a big racist\n  But I stay in import the pig places\n  But the world know the girl though, I fuck her off a furlough\n  She'll be up, hook me up, all your sales could be luck\n  Only question for these ducks is, \"Baby girl could we fuck?\"\n  You the type that need a wife\n  Thought L-O-X told y'all the key to life, asshole\n  Yo I don't play around, I lay it down, fuck around, I spray a round\n  Flick a biscuit, nigga risk it, my ass you can kick or kiss it\n\n  Ain't no niggas in the world more thorough than this\n  Bust off and sit the hot barrel dead on your lips\n  Like two thirds of a brick, (Paniero) and 'Kiss\n  The kiss the crystal white fluffy part that'll (come back quick\n  (See the plan is to stash all) and cash y'all\n  (The weed so strong), they gotta put it glass jars\n  Niggas try to smoke me out the (moke me out)\n  Cause the rims on my new joint be poking out\n  (I'm about to have no feelings, shit is deep)\n  Do they dance with the Devil when they sleep\n  (I wake up gripping the air, wishing to hear)\n  Shit that they kick in your ear when your soul drift in the air\n  (My gift is half-rotten when I'm spitting some tears\n  That shit'll drop down my eye, I'm too tired to cry)\n  And I ain't never seen a nigga that too live to die\n  (They say you get what you ask for) So get it cause you asked for it\n  (If a nigga ain't a thief) then he better have the cash for it\n  (And we gonna be around till ya body rot)\n  And if the Feds bring us in we get the same time Gotti got nigga\n\n  There's two ways into the hood, one plain\n  The other smoke chronic like straight to the brain\n  Let's get loose, Hennessy straight with tomato juice\n  Queens stallion, my guns, fully Italian\n  Now y'all niggas recognize medallions\n  I play the best hood, O-T with Tim Westwood\n  Used to be on Section 8, now my section is good\n  Thugged out niggas, we eat as much as we could\n  And I don't give a fuck what, yo I save my shit\n  And I don't give a fuck what, you can save your shit\n  Y'all niggas like extra skin on my dick\n  Listen to Bob Marley, y'all funny niggas like Steve Harvey\n  Fronting live with a weak army\n  I play the nice guy too and even smoke with you\n  But the realness, I ain't got no love for you\n  That's why I never do a song with you\n  Not even if your baby moms fucked the crew\n  And promised to give us head and swallow too\n  I still say low, no is no, no can do\n  Ya niggas drinking Haterade, drinking my flow\n\n  Yo, thug shit thug shit what what\n  What the fuck is the deal, thugged out entertainment\n  Untertainment\n  L-o-x, Terror Squad, this shit is fuckin' official\n"},{"id":15470086,"name":"Banned From Tv","trackName":"Banned From Tv","artistName":"Noreaga, Big Pun, Nature, Cam'ron, Jadakiss & Styles P","albumName":"N.O.R.E.","duration":311.954286,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"N.O.R.E the movie coming soon\nTimbaland, shut the fuck up\nTryna be out in '98, you know\nI'm tryna watch this movie, this the real shit\nShut the fuck up, '98, it's ours\n\nRegardless of rain or snow, sleet or hail\nI kick street tales, choking niggas like I'm Sprewell\nGolden State, holding your fate in the palm of my hand\nBlow you away like it's part of the plan\nI gotta call it like I see it, talk it like I be it\nWalking my walk, thugged out orthopedic\nCause I'm soon to be up, give me room watch me heat up\nNiggas try to stick me like Abdul Louima\nFollow the leader, make me go extra hard\nYo N.O.R.E. should I hold back or show the repertoire\nQuit at sixteen or throw in extra bars just for the non-believers\nI show them why it's so hard to reach us\nI get pussy with my father's features, puff heavily\nSee me at 6'1\", weigh a buck 70\nCatch me in spots y'all niggas never be\nPacked in like Green Bay, Harlem week to Queens day\nPerforming acapella, no DJ\n'98 Live, no replays, make it seem easy\nSo tell a friend to tell a friend\nThat it's them again, Nature, Noreaga, wild gremlins\n\nChampagne on the rocks, sporting a Fort Knox Lazarus\nShark salad with carrots, pork chops and applesauce\nTwin connection, disrespect watch your body cave in\nPump the shotty guaging, hit the shorty while he potty training\nI ain't playing, I'm truly the worst\nYou'll be the first to get his whole body fully reversed\nUzi ya hearse, leave you double-dead, I'm a bubble-head\nI never listen to nothing my mother said\nI hold niggas ransom for money like Johnny Handsome\nBeen soning niggas for so long, I think I got a grandson\nMy passion is money, a stash and a honey\nThat won't ask questions but will blast anybody\nThat's my kind of girl, kind of world I want to live in\nNot a cell or a prison or in Hell's Armageddon\nJust a little ghetto where my niggas control the middle\nWe know the riddles of life where others know only a little\n\nBeen in rich places, sick places\nSeen my story, 6, 666 pages\nWages, I rolled six aces and at the same dice games\nI caught six cases, all over big faces\nNow it's tipped laces, ready to dig faces\nBut the banger ain't a bit spacious\nNiggas loading up their rib cages, cats like the rib places\nBloody lip taste it, but Cam is a big racist\nBut I stay in import the pig places\nBut the world know the girl though, I fuck her off a furlough\nShe'll be up, hook me up, all your sales could be luck\nOnly question for these ducks is, \"Baby girl could we fuck?\"\nYou the type that need a wife\nThought L-O-X told y'all the key to life, asshole\nYo I don't play around, I lay it down, fuck around, I spray a round\nFlick a biscuit, nigga risk it, my ass you can kick or kiss it\n\nAin't no niggas in the world more thorough than this\nBust off and sit the hot barrel dead on your lips\nLike two thirds of a brick, (Paniero) and 'Kiss\nThe kiss the crystal white fluffy part that'll (come back quick\n(See the plan is to stash all) and cash y'all\n(The weed so strong), they gotta put it glass jars\nNiggas try to smoke me out the (moke me out)\nCause the rims on my new joint be poking out\n(I'm about to have no feelings, shit is deep)\nDo they dance with the Devil when they sleep\n(I wake up gripping the air, wishing to hear)\nShit that they kick in your ear when your soul drift in the air\n(My gift is half-rotten when I'm spitting some tears\nThat shit'll drop down my eye, I'm too tired to cry)\nAnd I ain't never seen a nigga that too live to die\n(They say you get what you ask for) So get it cause you asked for it\n(If a nigga ain't a thief) then he better have the cash for it\n(And we gonna be around till ya body rot)\nAnd if the Feds bring us in we get the same time Gotti got nigga\n\nThere's two ways into the hood, one plain\nThe other smoke chronic like straight to the brain\nLet's get loose, Hennessy straight with tomato juice\nQueens stallion, my guns, fully Italian\nNow y'all niggas recognize medallions\nI play the best hood, O-T with Tim Westwood\nUsed to be on Section 8, now my section is good\nThugged out niggas, we eat as much as we could\nAnd I don't give a fuck what, yo I save my shit\nAnd I don't give a fuck what, you can save your shit\nY'all niggas like extra skin on my dick\nListen to Bob Marley, y'all funny niggas like Steve Harvey\nFronting live with a weak army\nI play the nice guy too and even smoke with you\nBut the realness, I ain't got no love for you\nThat's why I never do a song with you\nNot even if your baby moms fucked the crew\nAnd promised to give us head and swallow too\nI still say low, no is no, no can do\nYa niggas drinking Haterade, drinking my flow\n\nYo, thug shit thug shit what what\nWhat the fuck is the deal, thugged out entertainment\nUntertainment\nL-o-x, Terror Squad, this shit is fuckin' official","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Banned From Tv\n  artist: Noreaga, Big Pun, Nature, Cam'ron, Jadakiss & Styles P\n  album: N.O.R.E.\n  duration_ms: 311954\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  N.O.R.E the movie coming soon\n  Timbaland, shut the fuck up\n  Tryna be out in '98, you know\n  I'm tryna watch this movie, this the real shit\n  Shut the fuck up, '98, it's ours\n\n  Regardless of rain or snow, sleet or hail\n  I kick street tales, choking niggas like I'm Sprewell\n  Golden State, holding your fate in the palm of my hand\n  Blow you away like it's part of the plan\n  I gotta call it like I see it, talk it like I be it\n  Walking my walk, thugged out orthopedic\n  Cause I'm soon to be up, give me room watch me heat up\n  Niggas try to stick me like Abdul Louima\n  Follow the leader, make me go extra hard\n  Yo N.O.R.E. should I hold back or show the repertoire\n  Quit at sixteen or throw in extra bars just for the non-believers\n  I show them why it's so hard to reach us\n  I get pussy with my father's features, puff heavily\n  See me at 6'1\", weigh a buck 70\n  Catch me in spots y'all niggas never be\n  Packed in like Green Bay, Harlem week to Queens day\n  Performing acapella, no DJ\n  '98 Live, no replays, make it seem easy\n  So tell a friend to tell a friend\n  That it's them again, Nature, Noreaga, wild gremlins\n\n  Champagne on the rocks, sporting a Fort Knox Lazarus\n  Shark salad with carrots, pork chops and applesauce\n  Twin connection, disrespect watch your body cave in\n  Pump the shotty guaging, hit the shorty while he potty training\n  I ain't playing, I'm truly the worst\n  You'll be the first to get his whole body fully reversed\n  Uzi ya hearse, leave you double-dead, I'm a bubble-head\n  I never listen to nothing my mother said\n  I hold niggas ransom for money like Johnny Handsome\n  Been soning niggas for so long, I think I got a grandson\n  My passion is money, a stash and a honey\n  That won't ask questions but will blast anybody\n  That's my kind of girl, kind of world I want to live in\n  Not a cell or a prison or in Hell's Armageddon\n  Just a little ghetto where my niggas control the middle\n  We know the riddles of life where others know only a little\n\n  Been in rich places, sick places\n  Seen my story, 6, 666 pages\n  Wages, I rolled six aces and at the same dice games\n  I caught six cases, all over big faces\n  Now it's tipped laces, ready to dig faces\n  But the banger ain't a bit spacious\n  Niggas loading up their rib cages, cats like the rib places\n  Bloody lip taste it, but Cam is a big racist\n  But I stay in import the pig places\n  But the world know the girl though, I fuck her off a furlough\n  She'll be up, hook me up, all your sales could be luck\n  Only question for these ducks is, \"Baby girl could we fuck?\"\n  You the type that need a wife\n  Thought L-O-X told y'all the key to life, asshole\n  Yo I don't play around, I lay it down, fuck around, I spray a round\n  Flick a biscuit, nigga risk it, my ass you can kick or kiss it\n\n  Ain't no niggas in the world more thorough than this\n  Bust off and sit the hot barrel dead on your lips\n  Like two thirds of a brick, (Paniero) and 'Kiss\n  The kiss the crystal white fluffy part that'll (come back quick\n  (See the plan is to stash all) and cash y'all\n  (The weed so strong), they gotta put it glass jars\n  Niggas try to smoke me out the (moke me out)\n  Cause the rims on my new joint be poking out\n  (I'm about to have no feelings, shit is deep)\n  Do they dance with the Devil when they sleep\n  (I wake up gripping the air, wishing to hear)\n  Shit that they kick in your ear when your soul drift in the air\n  (My gift is half-rotten when I'm spitting some tears\n  That shit'll drop down my eye, I'm too tired to cry)\n  And I ain't never seen a nigga that too live to die\n  (They say you get what you ask for) So get it cause you asked for it\n  (If a nigga ain't a thief) then he better have the cash for it\n  (And we gonna be around till ya body rot)\n  And if the Feds bring us in we get the same time Gotti got nigga\n\n  There's two ways into the hood, one plain\n  The other smoke chronic like straight to the brain\n  Let's get loose, Hennessy straight with tomato juice\n  Queens stallion, my guns, fully Italian\n  Now y'all niggas recognize medallions\n  I play the best hood, O-T with Tim Westwood\n  Used to be on Section 8, now my section is good\n  Thugged out niggas, we eat as much as we could\n  And I don't give a fuck what, yo I save my shit\n  And I don't give a fuck what, you can save your shit\n  Y'all niggas like extra skin on my dick\n  Listen to Bob Marley, y'all funny niggas like Steve Harvey\n  Fronting live with a weak army\n  I play the nice guy too and even smoke with you\n  But the realness, I ain't got no love for you\n  That's why I never do a song with you\n  Not even if your baby moms fucked the crew\n  And promised to give us head and swallow too\n  I still say low, no is no, no can do\n  Ya niggas drinking Haterade, drinking my flow\n\n  Yo, thug shit thug shit what what\n  What the fuck is the deal, thugged out entertainment\n  Untertainment\n  L-o-x, Terror Squad, this shit is fuckin' official\n"},{"id":23702096,"name":"Banned From TV","trackName":"Banned From TV","artistName":"Noreaga","albumName":"N.O.R.E.","duration":311.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Banned from tv\nN.O.R.E\nMoving\nComing soon\nShut the fuck up\nTryna watch this movie\nYo, Jungle\nShut the fuck up\n'98, it's ours\nAy yo, ay yo\nRegardless of rain or snow, sleet or hail\nI kick street tales choking niggas like I'm Sprewell\nGolden state, holding your fate in the palm of my hand\nBlow you away like it's part of the plan\nI gotta call it like I see it talk it like I be it\nWalkin' my walk, Thugged Out, orthopedic\n'Cause I'm soon to be up, give me room watch me heat up\nNiggas try to stick me like Abner Louima, follow the leader\nMake me go extra hard, yo N.O.R.E, should I hold back or show the repertoire?\nQuit at 16 or throw in extra bars just for the non-believers\nI show them why it's so hard to reach us\nI get pussy with my fathers features\nPuff heavenly, see me at 6\"1, weigh a buck 70\nCatch me in spots y'all niggas never be\nPacked in like Green Bay\nHarlem Week to Queens Day\nPerforming acapella, no dj\n'98 live, no replays\nMake it seem easy, so tell a friend to tell a friend\nThat its them again, Nature, Noreaga, wild gremlins (yo, yo, yo)\nChampagne on the rocks\nSporting a Fort Knox Lazarus\nShark salad with cabbage\nPork chops and applesauce\nTwin connection, disrespect watch your body cave in\nPump the shotty gaugin', hit the shorty while he potty training\nI ain't playing, I'm truly the worst\nSimply the first to get his whole body fully reversed\nUzi it hurts, leave you double dead\nI'ma a bubble-head, I never listen to nothing my mother said\nAy yo, I hold niggas ransom for money like Johnny Handsome\nBeen sonnin' niggas for so long I think I got a grandson\nMy passion is money, a stash and a honey\nThat won't ask questions but will blast anybody\nThat's my kind of girl, kinda of world I want to live in\nNot a cell or a prison or in hell's Armageddon\nJust a little ghetto\nWhere my niggas control the middle\nWe know the riddles of life where others know only a little (yo, yo)\nBeen in rich places, sick places\nSeen my story on six thousand six hundred and sixty six pages\nWages, I wrote six aces\nAnd at the same dice games, I caught six cases, all over big faces\nNow it's tipped lasers, ready to dig faces\nBut the Bing it ain't a bit spacious\nNiggas building up they rib cages, cats like to rip places\nBloody lip tasters, but Cam is a big racist\nBut I stay in important, big places\nBut the world know the girl though I fuck her off a furlough\nShe'll be up, hook me up, all your sales could be luck\nOnly question for these ducks is baby girl could we fuck ?\nYou the type that need a wife\nThought L-O-X told y'all the key to life\nAsshole, yo I don't play around, I lay it down\nFuck around, I spray around\nFlick a biscuit, nigga risk it\nMy ass, you can kick or kiss it (yo)\nAin't no niggas in the world more thorough than this\n(Bust off) and sit the hot barrel dead on your lips\nLike 2 thirds of a brick (Penaro and Kiss)\nThe crystal white fluffy part in the back of a whip\nSee the plan is to stash all, and cash y'all\nThe weed so strong, they gotta put it glass jars\nNiggas try to smoke me out, mope me out\n'Cause the rims on my new joint be poking out\nI'm about to have no feelings\nShit is deep, do they dance with the devil when they sleep\nI wake up gripping the air, wishing the hit\nShit that they kick in ya ear, when your soul be drift in the air\nMy gift is half-rotten when I spit it tears\nThat shit'll drop down my eye, I'm too tired to cry\nAnd I ain't never seen a nigga that's too live to die\nThey say you get what you ask for, so get it 'cause you asked for it\nIf a nigga ain't a thief, then he better have the cash for it\nAnd we gonna be around 'til ya body rot\nAnd if the feds bring us in we get the same time Gotti got\n(What! What! What! What!)\nYo, yo\nAy yo, there's two ways into the hood, one plane\nThe other smoke chronic like straight to the brain\nAy yo lets get loose, Hennessey straight, with tomato juice\nQueens stallion, my guns from the Italian\nNow y'all niggas recognize medallions\nI play the best hood, O.T with Tim Westwood\nUsed to be on Section 8, now my section is good\nThugged Out niggas, we eat as much as we could\nAnd I don't give a fuck (what!) Yo I save my shit\nAnd I don't give a fuck (what!) You can save your shit\nY'all niggas like extra skin on my dick\nListen to Bob Marley, you funny niggas like Steve Harvey\nFrontin' live with a weak army\nI play the nice guy too, I'll smoke with you\nBut the realness, I ain't got no love for you\nThat's why I'll never do a song with you\nNot even if your baby moms fucked the crew\nAnd promised to give us head and swallow too\nI still say no, no is no, no can do\nYa niggas drinking Haterade, drinkin' my flow\nYo, Thugged Out, thug shit, right here mothafucker (real mothafuckin' shit right here)\nThug shit, what? (mothafuckin' thug shit right here)\nWhat the fuck is the deal? What the fuck is the deal?\nWhat the fuck is the deal? What? What? What?\nFuckin', Thugged Out Entertainment (Thugged Out Entertainment)\nUntertainment (Untertainment)\nFuckin', L-O-X, Ruff Ryders (L-O-X, Ruff Ryders)\nWhat? (What? What? What?)\nTerror Squad (Terror Squad)\nThis shit is fucking official right here","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.30] Banned from tv\n[00:02.66] N.O.R.E\n[00:04.54] Moving\n[00:05.88] Coming soon\n[00:07.89] Shut the fuck up\n[00:09.74] Tryna watch this movie\n[00:11.94] Yo, Jungle\n[00:13.19] Shut the fuck up\n[00:14.69] '98, it's ours\n[00:19.34] Ay yo, ay yo\n[00:20.36] Regardless of rain or snow, sleet or hail\n[00:23.05] I kick street tales choking niggas like I'm Sprewell\n[00:25.55] Golden state, holding your fate in the palm of my hand\n[00:28.67] Blow you away like it's part of the plan\n[00:30.63] I gotta call it like I see it talk it like I be it\n[00:33.33] Walkin' my walk, Thugged Out, orthopedic\n[00:35.89] 'Cause I'm soon to be up, give me room watch me heat up\n[00:38.56] Niggas try to stick me like Abner Louima, follow the leader\n[00:41.68] Make me go extra hard, yo N.O.R.E, should I hold back or show the repertoire?\n[00:45.96] Quit at 16 or throw in extra bars just for the non-believers\n[00:49.00] I show them why it's so hard to reach us\n[00:51.22] I get pussy with my fathers features\n[00:53.14] Puff heavenly, see me at 6\"1, weigh a buck 70\n[00:56.92] Catch me in spots y'all niggas never be\n[00:58.65] Packed in like Green Bay\n[01:00.80] Harlem Week to Queens Day\n[01:02.29] Performing acapella, no dj\n[01:04.02] '98 live, no replays\n[01:06.05] Make it seem easy, so tell a friend to tell a friend\n[01:09.20] That its them again, Nature, Noreaga, wild gremlins (yo, yo, yo)\n[01:11.77] Champagne on the rocks\n[01:13.38] Sporting a Fort Knox Lazarus\n[01:15.05] Shark salad with cabbage\n[01:16.60] Pork chops and applesauce\n[01:17.80] Twin connection, disrespect watch your body cave in\n[01:20.13] Pump the shotty gaugin', hit the shorty while he potty training\n[01:22.93] I ain't playing, I'm truly the worst\n[01:24.81] Simply the first to get his whole body fully reversed\n[01:27.15] Uzi it hurts, leave you double dead\n[01:29.37] I'ma a bubble-head, I never listen to nothing my mother said\n[01:32.99] Ay yo, I hold niggas ransom for money like Johnny Handsome\n[01:35.96] Been sonnin' niggas for so long I think I got a grandson\n[01:38.21] My passion is money, a stash and a honey\n[01:40.84] That won't ask questions but will blast anybody\n[01:43.35] That's my kind of girl, kinda of world I want to live in\n[01:45.98] Not a cell or a prison or in hell's Armageddon\n[01:48.55] Just a little ghetto\n[01:49.80] Where my niggas control the middle\n[01:51.40] We know the riddles of life where others know only a little (yo, yo)\n[01:53.82] Been in rich places, sick places\n[01:55.56] Seen my story on six thousand six hundred and sixty six pages\n[01:58.84] Wages, I wrote six aces\n[02:00.38] And at the same dice games, I caught six cases, all over big faces\n[02:04.55] Now it's tipped lasers, ready to dig faces\n[02:07.35] But the Bing it ain't a bit spacious\n[02:09.39] Niggas building up they rib cages, cats like to rip places\n[02:12.18] Bloody lip tasters, but Cam is a big racist\n[02:15.20] But I stay in important, big places\n[02:17.07] But the world know the girl though I fuck her off a furlough\n[02:20.10] She'll be up, hook me up, all your sales could be luck\n[02:22.50] Only question for these ducks is baby girl could we fuck ?\n[02:25.55] You the type that need a wife\n[02:26.92] Thought L-O-X told y'all the key to life\n[02:29.33] Asshole, yo I don't play around, I lay it down\n[02:31.80] Fuck around, I spray around\n[02:33.25] Flick a biscuit, nigga risk it\n[02:34.50] My ass, you can kick or kiss it (yo)\n[02:35.61] Ain't no niggas in the world more thorough than this\n[02:38.06] (Bust off) and sit the hot barrel dead on your lips\n[02:40.44] Like 2 thirds of a brick (Penaro and Kiss)\n[02:43.25] The crystal white fluffy part in the back of a whip\n[02:45.73] See the plan is to stash all, and cash y'all\n[02:48.61] The weed so strong, they gotta put it glass jars\n[02:50.97] Niggas try to smoke me out, mope me out\n[02:53.73] 'Cause the rims on my new joint be poking out\n[02:56.16] I'm about to have no feelings\n[02:57.90] Shit is deep, do they dance with the devil when they sleep\n[03:01.37] I wake up gripping the air, wishing the hit\n[03:03.61] Shit that they kick in ya ear, when your soul be drift in the air\n[03:06.98] My gift is half-rotten when I spit it tears\n[03:09.09] That shit'll drop down my eye, I'm too tired to cry\n[03:11.91] And I ain't never seen a nigga that's too live to die\n[03:14.09] They say you get what you ask for, so get it 'cause you asked for it\n[03:17.34] If a nigga ain't a thief, then he better have the cash for it\n[03:19.85] And we gonna be around 'til ya body rot\n[03:21.95] And if the feds bring us in we get the same time Gotti got\n[03:24.99] (What! What! What! What!)\n[03:26.20] Yo, yo\n[03:27.58] Ay yo, there's two ways into the hood, one plane\n[03:30.16] The other smoke chronic like straight to the brain\n[03:32.59] Ay yo lets get loose, Hennessey straight, with tomato juice\n[03:35.42] Queens stallion, my guns from the Italian\n[03:37.70] Now y'all niggas recognize medallions\n[03:40.19] I play the best hood, O.T with Tim Westwood\n[03:42.94] Used to be on Section 8, now my section is good\n[03:45.45] Thugged Out niggas, we eat as much as we could\n[03:48.28] And I don't give a fuck (what!) Yo I save my shit\n[03:50.68] And I don't give a fuck (what!) You can save your shit\n[03:53.32] Y'all niggas like extra skin on my dick\n[03:55.65] Listen to Bob Marley, you funny niggas like Steve Harvey\n[03:58.78] Frontin' live with a weak army\n[04:00.99] I play the nice guy too, I'll smoke with you\n[04:03.63] But the realness, I ain't got no love for you\n[04:06.01] That's why I'll never do a song with you\n[04:08.89] Not even if your baby moms fucked the crew\n[04:11.55] And promised to give us head and swallow too\n[04:14.03] I still say no, no is no, no can do\n[04:17.09] Ya niggas drinking Haterade, drinkin' my flow\n[04:19.54] Yo, Thugged Out, thug shit, right here mothafucker (real mothafuckin' shit right here)\n[04:23.52] Thug shit, what? (mothafuckin' thug shit right here)\n[04:25.09] What the fuck is the deal? What the fuck is the deal?\n[04:27.92] What the fuck is the deal? What? What? What?\n[04:30.41] Fuckin', Thugged Out Entertainment (Thugged Out Entertainment)\n[04:35.21] Untertainment (Untertainment)\n[04:37.18] Fuckin', L-O-X, Ruff Ryders (L-O-X, Ruff Ryders)\n[04:40.13] What? (What? What? What?)\n[04:42.17] Terror Squad (Terror Squad)\n[04:44.53] This shit is fucking official right here","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Banned From TV\n  artist: Noreaga\n  album: N.O.R.E.\n  duration_ms: 311000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Banned from tv\n  start_ms: 1300\n  end_ms: 2660\n- text: N.O.R.E\n  start_ms: 2660\n  end_ms: 4540\n- text: Moving\n  start_ms: 4540\n  end_ms: 5880\n- text: Coming soon\n  start_ms: 5880\n  end_ms: 7890\n- text: Shut the fuck up\n  start_ms: 7890\n  end_ms: 9740\n- text: Tryna watch this movie\n  start_ms: 9740\n  end_ms: 11940\n- text: Yo, Jungle\n  start_ms: 11940\n  end_ms: 13190\n- text: Shut the fuck up\n  start_ms: 13190\n  end_ms: 14690\n- text: '''98, it''s ours'\n  start_ms: 14690\n  end_ms: 19340\n- text: Ay yo, ay yo\n  start_ms: 19340\n  end_ms: 20360\n- text: Regardless of rain or snow, sleet or hail\n  start_ms: 20360\n  end_ms: 23050\n- text: I kick street tales choking niggas like I'm Sprewell\n  start_ms: 23050\n  end_ms: 25550\n- text: Golden state, holding your fate in the palm of my hand\n  start_ms: 25550\n  end_ms: 28670\n- text: Blow you away like it's part of the plan\n  start_ms: 28670\n  end_ms: 30630\n- text: I gotta call it like I see it talk it like I be it\n  start_ms: 30630\n  end_ms: 33330\n- text: Walkin' my walk, Thugged Out, orthopedic\n  start_ms: 33330\n  end_ms: 35890\n- text: '''Cause I''m soon to be up, give me room watch me heat up'\n  start_ms: 35890\n  end_ms: 38560\n- text: Niggas try to stick me like Abner Louima, follow the leader\n  start_ms: 38560\n  end_ms: 41680\n- text: Make me go extra hard, yo N.O.R.E, should I hold back or show the repertoire?\n  start_ms: 41680\n  end_ms: 45960\n- text: Quit at 16 or throw in extra bars just for the non-believers\n  start_ms: 45960\n  end_ms: 49000\n- text: I show them why it's so hard to reach us\n  start_ms: 49000\n  end_ms: 51220\n- text: I get pussy with my fathers features\n  start_ms: 51220\n  end_ms: 53140\n- text: Puff heavenly, see me at 6\"1, weigh a buck 70\n  start_ms: 53140\n  end_ms: 56920\n- text: Catch me in spots y'all niggas never be\n  start_ms: 56920\n  end_ms: 58650\n- text: Packed in like Green Bay\n  start_ms: 58650\n  end_ms: 60800\n- text: Harlem Week to Queens Day\n  start_ms: 60800\n  end_ms: 62290\n- text: Performing acapella, no dj\n  start_ms: 62290\n  end_ms: 64020\n- text: '''98 live, no replays'\n  start_ms: 64020\n  end_ms: 66050\n- text: Make it seem easy, so tell a friend to tell a friend\n  start_ms: 66050\n  end_ms: 69200\n- text: That its them again, Nature, Noreaga, wild gremlins (yo, yo, yo)\n  start_ms: 69200\n  end_ms: 71770\n- text: Champagne on the rocks\n  start_ms: 71770\n  end_ms: 73380\n- text: Sporting a Fort Knox Lazarus\n  start_ms: 73380\n  end_ms: 75050\n- text: Shark salad with cabbage\n  start_ms: 75050\n  end_ms: 76600\n- text: Pork chops and applesauce\n  start_ms: 76600\n  end_ms: 77800\n- text: Twin connection, disrespect watch your body cave in\n  start_ms: 77800\n  end_ms: 80130\n- text: Pump the shotty gaugin', hit the shorty while he potty training\n  start_ms: 80130\n  end_ms: 82930\n- text: I ain't playing, I'm truly the worst\n  start_ms: 82930\n  end_ms: 84810\n- text: Simply the first to get his whole body fully reversed\n  start_ms: 84810\n  end_ms: 87150\n- text: Uzi it hurts, leave you double dead\n  start_ms: 87150\n  end_ms: 89370\n- text: I'ma a bubble-head, I never listen to nothing my mother said\n  start_ms: 89370\n  end_ms: 92990\n- text: Ay yo, I hold niggas ransom for money like Johnny Handsome\n  start_ms: 92990\n  end_ms: 95960\n- text: Been sonnin' niggas for so long I think I got a grandson\n  start_ms: 95960\n  end_ms: 98210\n- text: My passion is money, a stash and a honey\n  start_ms: 98210\n  end_ms: 100840\n- text: That won't ask questions but will blast anybody\n  start_ms: 100840\n  end_ms: 103350\n- text: That's my kind of girl, kinda of world I want to live in\n  start_ms: 103350\n  end_ms: 105980\n- text: Not a cell or a prison or in hell's Armageddon\n  start_ms: 105980\n  end_ms: 108550\n- text: Just a little ghetto\n  start_ms: 108550\n  end_ms: 109800\n- text: Where my niggas control the middle\n  start_ms: 109800\n  end_ms: 111400\n- text: We know the riddles of life where others know only a little (yo, yo)\n  start_ms: 111400\n  end_ms: 113820\n- text: Been in rich places, sick places\n  start_ms: 113820\n  end_ms: 115560\n- text: Seen my story on six thousand six hundred and sixty six pages\n  start_ms: 115560\n  end_ms: 118840\n- text: Wages, I wrote six aces\n  start_ms: 118840\n  end_ms: 120380\n- text: And at the same dice games, I caught six cases, all over big faces\n  start_ms: 120380\n  end_ms: 124550\n- text: Now it's tipped lasers, ready to dig faces\n  start_ms: 124550\n  end_ms: 127350\n- text: But the Bing it ain't a bit spacious\n  start_ms: 127350\n  end_ms: 129390\n- text: Niggas building up they rib cages, cats like to rip places\n  start_ms: 129390\n  end_ms: 132180\n- text: Bloody lip tasters, but Cam is a big racist\n  start_ms: 132180\n  end_ms: 135200\n- text: But I stay in important, big places\n  start_ms: 135200\n  end_ms: 137070\n- text: But the world know the girl though I fuck her off a furlough\n  start_ms: 137070\n  end_ms: 140100\n- text: She'll be up, hook me up, all your sales could be luck\n  start_ms: 140100\n  end_ms: 142500\n- text: Only question for these ducks is baby girl could we fuck ?\n  start_ms: 142500\n  end_ms: 145550\n- text: You the type that need a wife\n  start_ms: 145550\n  end_ms: 146920\n- text: Thought L-O-X told y'all the key to life\n  start_ms: 146920\n  end_ms: 149330\n- text: Asshole, yo I don't play around, I lay it down\n  start_ms: 149330\n  end_ms: 151800\n- text: Fuck around, I spray around\n  start_ms: 151800\n  end_ms: 153250\n- text: Flick a biscuit, nigga risk it\n  start_ms: 153250\n  end_ms: 154500\n- text: My ass, you can kick or kiss it (yo)\n  start_ms: 154500\n  end_ms: 155610\n- text: Ain't no niggas in the world more thorough than this\n  start_ms: 155610\n  end_ms: 158060\n- text: (Bust off) and sit the hot barrel dead on your lips\n  start_ms: 158060\n  end_ms: 160440\n- text: Like 2 thirds of a brick (Penaro and Kiss)\n  start_ms: 160440\n  end_ms: 163250\n- text: The crystal white fluffy part in the back of a whip\n  start_ms: 163250\n  end_ms: 165730\n- text: See the plan is to stash all, and cash y'all\n  start_ms: 165730\n  end_ms: 168610\n- text: The weed so strong, they gotta put it glass jars\n  start_ms: 168610\n  end_ms: 170970\n- text: Niggas try to smoke me out, mope me out\n  start_ms: 170970\n  end_ms: 173730\n- text: '''Cause the rims on my new joint be poking out'\n  start_ms: 173730\n  end_ms: 176160\n- text: I'm about to have no feelings\n  start_ms: 176160\n  end_ms: 177900\n- text: Shit is deep, do they dance with the devil when they sleep\n  start_ms: 177900\n  end_ms: 181370\n- text: I wake up gripping the air, wishing the hit\n  start_ms: 181370\n  end_ms: 183610\n- text: Shit that they kick in ya ear, when your soul be drift in the air\n  start_ms: 183610\n  end_ms: 186980\n- text: My gift is half-rotten when I spit it tears\n  start_ms: 186980\n  end_ms: 189090\n- text: That shit'll drop down my eye, I'm too tired to cry\n  start_ms: 189090\n  end_ms: 191910\n- text: And I ain't never seen a nigga that's too live to die\n  start_ms: 191910\n  end_ms: 194090\n- text: They say you get what you ask for, so get it 'cause you asked for it\n  start_ms: 194090\n  end_ms: 197340\n- text: If a nigga ain't a thief, then he better have the cash for it\n  start_ms: 197340\n  end_ms: 199850\n- text: And we gonna be around 'til ya body rot\n  start_ms: 199850\n  end_ms: 201950\n- text: And if the feds bring us in we get the same time Gotti got\n  start_ms: 201950\n  end_ms: 204990\n- text: (What! What! What! What!)\n  start_ms: 204990\n  end_ms: 206200\n- text: Yo, yo\n  start_ms: 206200\n  end_ms: 207580\n- text: Ay yo, there's two ways into the hood, one plane\n  start_ms: 207580\n  end_ms: 210160\n- text: The other smoke chronic like straight to the brain\n  start_ms: 210160\n  end_ms: 212590\n- text: Ay yo lets get loose, Hennessey straight, with tomato juice\n  start_ms: 212590\n  end_ms: 215420\n- text: Queens stallion, my guns from the Italian\n  start_ms: 215420\n  end_ms: 217700\n- text: Now y'all niggas recognize medallions\n  start_ms: 217700\n  end_ms: 220190\n- text: I play the best hood, O.T with Tim Westwood\n  start_ms: 220190\n  end_ms: 222940\n- text: Used to be on Section 8, now my section is good\n  start_ms: 222940\n  end_ms: 225450\n- text: Thugged Out niggas, we eat as much as we could\n  start_ms: 225450\n  end_ms: 228280\n- text: And I don't give a fuck (what!) Yo I save my shit\n  start_ms: 228280\n  end_ms: 230680\n- text: And I don't give a fuck (what!) You can save your shit\n  start_ms: 230680\n  end_ms: 233320\n- text: Y'all niggas like extra skin on my dick\n  start_ms: 233320\n  end_ms: 235650\n- text: Listen to Bob Marley, you funny niggas like Steve Harvey\n  start_ms: 235650\n  end_ms: 238780\n- text: Frontin' live with a weak army\n  start_ms: 238780\n  end_ms: 240990\n- text: I play the nice guy too, I'll smoke with you\n  start_ms: 240990\n  end_ms: 243630\n- text: But the realness, I ain't got no love for you\n  start_ms: 243630\n  end_ms: 246010\n- text: That's why I'll never do a song with you\n  start_ms: 246010\n  end_ms: 248890\n- text: Not even if your baby moms fucked the crew\n  start_ms: 248890\n  end_ms: 251550\n- text: And promised to give us head and swallow too\n  start_ms: 251550\n  end_ms: 254030\n- text: I still say no, no is no, no can do\n  start_ms: 254030\n  end_ms: 257090\n- text: Ya niggas drinking Haterade, drinkin' my flow\n  start_ms: 257090\n  end_ms: 259540\n- text: Yo, Thugged Out, thug shit, right here mothafucker (real mothafuckin' shit right here)\n  start_ms: 259540\n  end_ms: 263520\n- text: Thug shit, what? (mothafuckin' thug shit right here)\n  start_ms: 263520\n  end_ms: 265090\n- text: What the fuck is the deal? What the fuck is the deal?\n  start_ms: 265090\n  end_ms: 267920\n- text: What the fuck is the deal? What? What? What?\n  start_ms: 267920\n  end_ms: 270410\n- text: Fuckin', Thugged Out Entertainment (Thugged Out Entertainment)\n  start_ms: 270410\n  end_ms: 275210\n- text: Untertainment (Untertainment)\n  start_ms: 275210\n  end_ms: 277180\n- text: Fuckin', L-O-X, Ruff Ryders (L-O-X, Ruff Ryders)\n  start_ms: 277180\n  end_ms: 280130\n- text: What? (What? What? What?)\n  start_ms: 280130\n  end_ms: 282170\n- text: Terror Squad (Terror Squad)\n  start_ms: 282170\n  end_ms: 284530\n- text: This shit is fucking official right here\n  start_ms: 284530\nplain: |-\n  Banned from tv\n  N.O.R.E\n  Moving\n  Coming soon\n  Shut the fuck up\n  Tryna watch this movie\n  Yo, Jungle\n  Shut the fuck up\n  '98, it's ours\n  Ay yo, ay yo\n  Regardless of rain or snow, sleet or hail\n  I kick street tales choking niggas like I'm Sprewell\n  Golden state, holding your fate in the palm of my hand\n  Blow you away like it's part of the plan\n  I gotta call it like I see it talk it like I be it\n  Walkin' my walk, Thugged Out, orthopedic\n  'Cause I'm soon to be up, give me room watch me heat up\n  Niggas try to stick me like Abner Louima, follow the leader\n  Make me go extra hard, yo N.O.R.E, should I hold back or show the repertoire?\n  Quit at 16 or throw in extra bars just for the non-believers\n  I show them why it's so hard to reach us\n  I get pussy with my fathers features\n  Puff heavenly, see me at 6\"1, weigh a buck 70\n  Catch me in spots y'all niggas never be\n  Packed in like Green Bay\n  Harlem Week to Queens Day\n  Performing acapella, no dj\n  '98 live, no replays\n  Make it seem easy, so tell a friend to tell a friend\n  That its them again, Nature, Noreaga, wild gremlins (yo, yo, yo)\n  Champagne on the rocks\n  Sporting a Fort Knox Lazarus\n  Shark salad with cabbage\n  Pork chops and applesauce\n  Twin connection, disrespect watch your body cave in\n  Pump the shotty gaugin', hit the shorty while he potty training\n  I ain't playing, I'm truly the worst\n  Simply the first to get his whole body fully reversed\n  Uzi it hurts, leave you double dead\n  I'ma a bubble-head, I never listen to nothing my mother said\n  Ay yo, I hold niggas ransom for money like Johnny Handsome\n  Been sonnin' niggas for so long I think I got a grandson\n  My passion is money, a stash and a honey\n  That won't ask questions but will blast anybody\n  That's my kind of girl, kinda of world I want to live in\n  Not a cell or a prison or in hell's Armageddon\n  Just a little ghetto\n  Where my niggas control the middle\n  We know the riddles of life where others know only a little (yo, yo)\n  Been in rich places, sick places\n  Seen my story on six thousand six hundred and sixty six pages\n  Wages, I wrote six aces\n  And at the same dice games, I caught six cases, all over big faces\n  Now it's tipped lasers, ready to dig faces\n  But the Bing it ain't a bit spacious\n  Niggas building up they rib cages, cats like to rip places\n  Bloody lip tasters, but Cam is a big racist\n  But I stay in important, big places\n  But the world know the girl though I fuck her off a furlough\n  She'll be up, hook me up, all your sales could be luck\n  Only question for these ducks is baby girl could we fuck ?\n  You the type that need a wife\n  Thought L-O-X told y'all the key to life\n  Asshole, yo I don't play around, I lay it down\n  Fuck around, I spray around\n  Flick a biscuit, nigga risk it\n  My ass, you can kick or kiss it (yo)\n  Ain't no niggas in the world more thorough than this\n  (Bust off) and sit the hot barrel dead on your lips\n  Like 2 thirds of a brick (Penaro and Kiss)\n  The crystal white fluffy part in the back of a whip\n  See the plan is to stash all, and cash y'all\n  The weed so strong, they gotta put it glass jars\n  Niggas try to smoke me out, mope me out\n  'Cause the rims on my new joint be poking out\n  I'm about to have no feelings\n  Shit is deep, do they dance with the devil when they sleep\n  I wake up gripping the air, wishing the hit\n  Shit that they kick in ya ear, when your soul be drift in the air\n  My gift is half-rotten when I spit it tears\n  That shit'll drop down my eye, I'm too tired to cry\n  And I ain't never seen a nigga that's too live to die\n  They say you get what you ask for, so get it 'cause you asked for it\n  If a nigga ain't a thief, then he better have the cash for it\n  And we gonna be around 'til ya body rot\n  And if the feds bring us in we get the same time Gotti got\n  (What! What! What! What!)\n  Yo, yo\n  Ay yo, there's two ways into the hood, one plane\n  The other smoke chronic like straight to the brain\n  Ay yo lets get loose, Hennessey straight, with tomato juice\n  Queens stallion, my guns from the Italian\n  Now y'all niggas recognize medallions\n  I play the best hood, O.T with Tim Westwood\n  Used to be on Section 8, now my section is good\n  Thugged Out niggas, we eat as much as we could\n  And I don't give a fuck (what!) Yo I save my shit\n  And I don't give a fuck (what!) You can save your shit\n  Y'all niggas like extra skin on my dick\n  Listen to Bob Marley, you funny niggas like Steve Harvey\n  Frontin' live with a weak army\n  I play the nice guy too, I'll smoke with you\n  But the realness, I ain't got no love for you\n  That's why I'll never do a song with you\n  Not even if your baby moms fucked the crew\n  And promised to give us head and swallow too\n  I still say no, no is no, no can do\n  Ya niggas drinking Haterade, drinkin' my flow\n  Yo, Thugged Out, thug shit, right here mothafucker (real mothafuckin' shit right here)\n  Thug shit, what? (mothafuckin' thug shit right here)\n  What the fuck is the deal? What the fuck is the deal?\n  What the fuck is the deal? What? What? What?\n  Fuckin', Thugged Out Entertainment (Thugged Out Entertainment)\n  Untertainment (Untertainment)\n  Fuckin', L-O-X, Ruff Ryders (L-O-X, Ruff Ryders)\n  What? (What? What? What?)\n  Terror Squad (Terror Squad)\n  This shit is fucking official right here\n"},{"id":9702094,"name":"Banned From TV","trackName":"Banned From TV","artistName":"Noreaga feat. Nature, Big Pun, Cam’ron, Styles & Jadakiss","albumName":"N.O.R.E.","duration":312.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"N.O.R.E the movie coming soon\nTimbaland, shut the fuck up\nTryna be out in '98, you know\nI'm tryna watch this movie, this the real shit\nShut the fuck up, '98, it's ours\n\nRegardless of rain or snow, sleet or hail\nI kick street tales, choking niggas like I'm Sprewell\nGolden State, holding your fate in the palm of my hand\nBlow you away like it's part of the plan\nI gotta call it like I see it, talk it like I be it\nWalking my walk, thugged out orthopedic\nCause I'm soon to be up, give me room watch me heat up\nNiggas try to stick me like Abdul Louima\nFollow the leader, make me go extra hard\nYo N.O.R.E. should I hold back or show the repertoire\nQuit at sixteen or throw in extra bars just for the non-believers\nI show them why it's so hard to reach us\nI get pussy with my father's features, puff heavily\nSee me at 6'1\", weigh a buck 70\nCatch me in spots y'all niggas never be\nPacked in like Green Bay, Harlem week to Queens day\nPerforming acapella, no DJ\n'98 Live, no replays, make it seem easy\nSo tell a friend to tell a friend\nThat it's them again, Nature, Noreaga, wild gremlins\n\nChampagne on the rocks, sporting a Fort Knox Lazarus\nShark salad with carrots, pork chops and applesauce\nTwin connection, disrespect watch your body cave in\nPump the shotty guaging, hit the shorty while he potty training\nI ain't playing, I'm truly the worst\nYou'll be the first to get his whole body fully reversed\nUzi ya hearse, leave you double-dead, I'm a bubble-head\nI never listen to nothing my mother said\nI hold niggas ransom for money like Johnny Handsome\nBeen soning niggas for so long, I think I got a grandson\nMy passion is money, a stash and a honey\nThat won't ask questions but will blast anybody\nThat's my kind of girl, kind of world I want to live in\nNot a cell or a prison or in Hell's Armageddon\nJust a little ghetto where my niggas control the middle\nWe know the riddles of life where others know only a little\n\nBeen in rich places, sick places\nSeen my story, 6, 666 pages\nWages, I rolled six aces and at the same dice games\nI caught six cases, all over big faces\nNow it's tipped laces, ready to dig faces\nBut the banger ain't a bit spacious\nNiggas loading up their rib cages, cats like the rib places\nBloody lip taste it, but Cam is a big racist\nBut I stay in import the pig places\nBut the world know the girl though, I fuck her off a furlough\nShe'll be up, hook me up, all your sales could be luck\nOnly question for these ducks is, \"Baby girl could we fuck?\"\nYou the type that need a wife\nThought L-O-X told y'all the key to life, asshole\nYo I don't play around, I lay it down, fuck around, I spray a round\nFlick a biscuit, nigga risk it, my ass you can kick or kiss it\n\nAin't no niggas in the world more thorough than this\nBust off and sit the hot barrel dead on your lips\nLike two thirds of a brick, (Paniero) and 'Kiss\nThe kiss the crystal white fluffy part that'll (come back quick\n(See the plan is to stash all) and cash y'all\n(The weed so strong), they gotta put it glass jars\nNiggas try to smoke me out the (moke me out)\nCause the rims on my new joint be poking out\n(I'm about to have no feelings, shit is deep)\nDo they dance with the Devil when they sleep\n(I wake up gripping the air, wishing to hear)\nShit that they kick in your ear when your soul drift in the air\n(My gift is half-rotten when I'm spitting some tears\nThat shit'll drop down my eye, I'm too tired to cry)\nAnd I ain't never seen a nigga that too live to die\n(They say you get what you ask for) So get it cause you asked for it\n(If a nigga ain't a thief) then he better have the cash for it\n(And we gonna be around till ya body rot)\nAnd if the Feds bring us in we get the same time Gotti got nigga\n\nThere's two ways into the hood, one plain\nThe other smoke chronic like straight to the brain\nLet's get loose, Hennessy straight with tomato juice\nQueens stallion, my guns, fully Italian\nNow y'all niggas recognize medallions\nI play the best hood, O-T with Tim Westwood\nUsed to be on Section 8, now my section is good\nThugged out niggas, we eat as much as we could\nAnd I don't give a fuck what, yo I save my shit\nAnd I don't give a fuck what, you can save your shit\nY'all niggas like extra skin on my dick\nListen to Bob Marley, y'all funny niggas like Steve Harvey\nFronting live with a weak army\nI play the nice guy too and even smoke with you\nBut the realness, I ain't got no love for you\nThat's why I never do a song with you\nNot even if your baby moms fucked the crew\nAnd promised to give us head and swallow too\nI still say low, no is no, no can do\nYa niggas drinking Haterade, drinking my flow\n\nYo, thug shit thug shit what what\nWhat the fuck is the deal, thugged out entertainment\nUntertainment\nL-o-x, Terror Squad, this shit is fuckin' official","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Banned From TV\n  artist: Noreaga feat. Nature, Big Pun, Cam’ron, Styles & Jadakiss\n  album: N.O.R.E.\n  duration_ms: 312000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  N.O.R.E the movie coming soon\n  Timbaland, shut the fuck up\n  Tryna be out in '98, you know\n  I'm tryna watch this movie, this the real shit\n  Shut the fuck up, '98, it's ours\n\n  Regardless of rain or snow, sleet or hail\n  I kick street tales, choking niggas like I'm Sprewell\n  Golden State, holding your fate in the palm of my hand\n  Blow you away like it's part of the plan\n  I gotta call it like I see it, talk it like I be it\n  Walking my walk, thugged out orthopedic\n  Cause I'm soon to be up, give me room watch me heat up\n  Niggas try to stick me like Abdul Louima\n  Follow the leader, make me go extra hard\n  Yo N.O.R.E. should I hold back or show the repertoire\n  Quit at sixteen or throw in extra bars just for the non-believers\n  I show them why it's so hard to reach us\n  I get pussy with my father's features, puff heavily\n  See me at 6'1\", weigh a buck 70\n  Catch me in spots y'all niggas never be\n  Packed in like Green Bay, Harlem week to Queens day\n  Performing acapella, no DJ\n  '98 Live, no replays, make it seem easy\n  So tell a friend to tell a friend\n  That it's them again, Nature, Noreaga, wild gremlins\n\n  Champagne on the rocks, sporting a Fort Knox Lazarus\n  Shark salad with carrots, pork chops and applesauce\n  Twin connection, disrespect watch your body cave in\n  Pump the shotty guaging, hit the shorty while he potty training\n  I ain't playing, I'm truly the worst\n  You'll be the first to get his whole body fully reversed\n  Uzi ya hearse, leave you double-dead, I'm a bubble-head\n  I never listen to nothing my mother said\n  I hold niggas ransom for money like Johnny Handsome\n  Been soning niggas for so long, I think I got a grandson\n  My passion is money, a stash and a honey\n  That won't ask questions but will blast anybody\n  That's my kind of girl, kind of world I want to live in\n  Not a cell or a prison or in Hell's Armageddon\n  Just a little ghetto where my niggas control the middle\n  We know the riddles of life where others know only a little\n\n  Been in rich places, sick places\n  Seen my story, 6, 666 pages\n  Wages, I rolled six aces and at the same dice games\n  I caught six cases, all over big faces\n  Now it's tipped laces, ready to dig faces\n  But the banger ain't a bit spacious\n  Niggas loading up their rib cages, cats like the rib places\n  Bloody lip taste it, but Cam is a big racist\n  But I stay in import the pig places\n  But the world know the girl though, I fuck her off a furlough\n  She'll be up, hook me up, all your sales could be luck\n  Only question for these ducks is, \"Baby girl could we fuck?\"\n  You the type that need a wife\n  Thought L-O-X told y'all the key to life, asshole\n  Yo I don't play around, I lay it down, fuck around, I spray a round\n  Flick a biscuit, nigga risk it, my ass you can kick or kiss it\n\n  Ain't no niggas in the world more thorough than this\n  Bust off and sit the hot barrel dead on your lips\n  Like two thirds of a brick, (Paniero) and 'Kiss\n  The kiss the crystal white fluffy part that'll (come back quick\n  (See the plan is to stash all) and cash y'all\n  (The weed so strong), they gotta put it glass jars\n  Niggas try to smoke me out the (moke me out)\n  Cause the rims on my new joint be poking out\n  (I'm about to have no feelings, shit is deep)\n  Do they dance with the Devil when they sleep\n  (I wake up gripping the air, wishing to hear)\n  Shit that they kick in your ear when your soul drift in the air\n  (My gift is half-rotten when I'm spitting some tears\n  That shit'll drop down my eye, I'm too tired to cry)\n  And I ain't never seen a nigga that too live to die\n  (They say you get what you ask for) So get it cause you asked for it\n  (If a nigga ain't a thief) then he better have the cash for it\n  (And we gonna be around till ya body rot)\n  And if the Feds bring us in we get the same time Gotti got nigga\n\n  There's two ways into the hood, one plain\n  The other smoke chronic like straight to the brain\n  Let's get loose, Hennessy straight with tomato juice\n  Queens stallion, my guns, fully Italian\n  Now y'all niggas recognize medallions\n  I play the best hood, O-T with Tim Westwood\n  Used to be on Section 8, now my section is good\n  Thugged out niggas, we eat as much as we could\n  And I don't give a fuck what, yo I save my shit\n  And I don't give a fuck what, you can save your shit\n  Y'all niggas like extra skin on my dick\n  Listen to Bob Marley, y'all funny niggas like Steve Harvey\n  Fronting live with a weak army\n  I play the nice guy too and even smoke with you\n  But the realness, I ain't got no love for you\n  That's why I never do a song with you\n  Not even if your baby moms fucked the crew\n  And promised to give us head and swallow too\n  I still say low, no is no, no can do\n  Ya niggas drinking Haterade, drinking my flow\n\n  Yo, thug shit thug shit what what\n  What the fuck is the deal, thugged out entertainment\n  Untertainment\n  L-o-x, Terror Squad, this shit is fuckin' official\n"},{"id":33875006,"name":"Banned From TV","trackName":"Banned From TV","artistName":"Noreaga; Big Pun; Cam'Ron; Jadakiss; Nature; Styles P","albumName":"N.O.R.E","duration":312.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"N.O.R.E, The Movement (c'mon), comin' soon\n(What? Shut the fuck up)\n(Trying to watch this movie)\nYo, Jungle (shut the fuck up)\n'98, it's ours (yeah)\n\nAyo, ayo, regardless of rain or snow, sleet or hail\nI kick street tales, choking niggas like I'm Sprewell\nGolden State, holding your fate in the palm of my hand\nBlow you away like it's part of the plan\n\nI gotta call it like I see it, talk it like I be it\nWalking my walk, thugged out orthopedic\n'Cause I'm soon to be up, give me room, watch me heat up\nNiggas try to stick me like Abner Louima\n\nFollow the leader, make me go extra hard\nYo, N.O.R.E., should I hold back or show the repertoire?\nQuit at 16 or throw in extra bars just for the non-believers?\nI show 'em why it's so hard to reach us (why?)\n\nI get pussy with my father's features, puff heavily\nSee me at six-one, weigh a buck 70\nCatch me in spots y'all niggas never be\nPacked in (pack it in) like Green Bay, Harlem week to Queens day\n\nPerforming acapella, no DJ\n'98 live, no replays (how we do it?) Make it seem easy\nSo tell a friend to tell a friend that it's them again\nNature, Noreaga, wild gremlins (yo, yo, yo)\n\nChampagne on the rocks, sporting a Fort Knox Lazarus\nShark salad with carrots, pork chops and applesauce\nTwin connection, disrespect and watch your body cave in\nPump the shotty guage in, hit the shorty while he potty training\nI ain't playing, I'm truly the worst\nHe'll be the first to get his whole body fully reversed\nUzi your hearse, leave you double-dead, I'm a bubble-head\nI never listened to nothing my mother said\n\nAyo, I hold niggas ransom for money like Johnny Handsome\nBeen soning niggas so long, I think I got a grandson\nMy passion is money, a stash, and a honey\nThat won't ask no questions but'll blast anybody\nThat's my kind of girl, kind of world I want to live in\nNot a cell or a prison or in Hell's Armageddon\nJust a little ghetto where my niggas control the middle\nAnd know the riddles of life where others know only a little (uh-uh, uh, yeah, yo)\n\nBeen in rich places, sick places\nSee, my story six thousand, six hundred sixty-six pages\nWages, I rolled six aces (what?)\nAnd at the same dice game, I caught six cases all over big faces\nNow it's tipped laces, ready to dig faces\nBut the Bing, it ain't a bit spacious\nNiggas loading up they rib cages, cats like to rip places\nBloody lip tasters, Cam is a big racist\n\nBut I stay important, big places\nBut the world know your girl though, I fuck her off a furlough\nShould be up, hook me up, all your sales could be luck\nOnly question for these ducks is, \"Baby girl, could we fuck?\"\nYou the type that need a wife\nThought L-O-X told y'all the key to life, asshole\nYo, I don't play around, I lay it down, fuck around, I'll spray a round\nFlip a biscuit, nigga, risk it, my ass, you can kick or kiss it (yo)\n\nAin't no niggas in the world you know thorough than this\nBust off and sit the hot barrel dead on your lips\nLike two thirds of a brick, Paniero and 'Kiss\nThe crystal white fluffy parts that'll come back quick\n\nSee, the plan is to stash all, cash y'all's\nThe weed so strong, they gotta put it in glass jars\nNiggas try to smoke me out then moke me out\n'Cause the rims on my new joint be poking out\n\nI'm about to have no feelings, shit is deep\nDo they dance with the Devil when they sleep?\nI wake up gripping the air, wishing to hear\nShit that they kick in your ear when your soul drift in the air\n\nMy gift is half-rotten, when I spit, it's a tear\nThat shit'll drop down my eye, I'm too tired to cry\nAnd I ain't never seen a nigga that's too live to die\nThey say you get what you ask for, so get it 'cause you asked for it\n\nA nigga ain't a thief, then he better have the cash for it\nAnd we gon' be around 'til your body rot\nAnd if the Feds brung us in, we'd get the same time Gotti got\nNigga\n\nYo, yo, ayo, there's two ways into the hood, one plain\nThe other smoking chronic like straight to the brain\nYo, let's get loose, Hennessy straight with tomato juice\nQueens stallions, buy guns from the Italians\n\nNow y'all niggas recognize medallions\nI play the best hood, OT with Tim Westwood\nUsed to be on Section 8, now my section is good\nThugged out niggas, we eat as much as we could\n\nAnd I don't give a fuck, what? Yo, I say my shit\nAnd I don't give a fuck, what? You can save your shit\nY'all niggas like extra skin on my dick (uh-huh)\nListen to Bob Marley, y'all funny niggas like Steve Harvey\n\nYou fronting live with a weak army\nI play the nice guy too and even smoke with you\nBut the realness, I ain't got no love for you\nThat's why I'll never do a song with you\n\nNot even if your baby moms fucked the crew\nAnd promised to give us head and swallow too\nI still say no, no is no, no can though\nY'all niggas drinking Haterade, drinking my flow, yo\n\nThugged-Out\nReal motherfucking shit right here (thug shit right here, motherfucker)\nMotherfucking thug shit right here (thug shit, what?)\n(Fuck is the deal?) What?\n(What the fuck is the deal? What the fuck is the deal?)\n(What? What? What?)\n\nThugged-Out Entertainment (Thugged-Out Entertainment)\nUndertaiment (Undertaiment)\nFuck it, L-O-X, Ruff Ryders (L-O-X, Ryders), What?\n(What? What? What? What? What?)\nTerror Squad (Terror Squad)\nThis shit is fuckin' official right here","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Banned From TV\n  artist: Noreaga; Big Pun; Cam'Ron; Jadakiss; Nature; Styles P\n  album: N.O.R.E\n  duration_ms: 312000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  N.O.R.E, The Movement (c'mon), comin' soon\n  (What? Shut the fuck up)\n  (Trying to watch this movie)\n  Yo, Jungle (shut the fuck up)\n  '98, it's ours (yeah)\n\n  Ayo, ayo, regardless of rain or snow, sleet or hail\n  I kick street tales, choking niggas like I'm Sprewell\n  Golden State, holding your fate in the palm of my hand\n  Blow you away like it's part of the plan\n\n  I gotta call it like I see it, talk it like I be it\n  Walking my walk, thugged out orthopedic\n  'Cause I'm soon to be up, give me room, watch me heat up\n  Niggas try to stick me like Abner Louima\n\n  Follow the leader, make me go extra hard\n  Yo, N.O.R.E., should I hold back or show the repertoire?\n  Quit at 16 or throw in extra bars just for the non-believers?\n  I show 'em why it's so hard to reach us (why?)\n\n  I get pussy with my father's features, puff heavily\n  See me at six-one, weigh a buck 70\n  Catch me in spots y'all niggas never be\n  Packed in (pack it in) like Green Bay, Harlem week to Queens day\n\n  Performing acapella, no DJ\n  '98 live, no replays (how we do it?) Make it seem easy\n  So tell a friend to tell a friend that it's them again\n  Nature, Noreaga, wild gremlins (yo, yo, yo)\n\n  Champagne on the rocks, sporting a Fort Knox Lazarus\n  Shark salad with carrots, pork chops and applesauce\n  Twin connection, disrespect and watch your body cave in\n  Pump the shotty guage in, hit the shorty while he potty training\n  I ain't playing, I'm truly the worst\n  He'll be the first to get his whole body fully reversed\n  Uzi your hearse, leave you double-dead, I'm a bubble-head\n  I never listened to nothing my mother said\n\n  Ayo, I hold niggas ransom for money like Johnny Handsome\n  Been soning niggas so long, I think I got a grandson\n  My passion is money, a stash, and a honey\n  That won't ask no questions but'll blast anybody\n  That's my kind of girl, kind of world I want to live in\n  Not a cell or a prison or in Hell's Armageddon\n  Just a little ghetto where my niggas control the middle\n  And know the riddles of life where others know only a little (uh-uh, uh, yeah, yo)\n\n  Been in rich places, sick places\n  See, my story six thousand, six hundred sixty-six pages\n  Wages, I rolled six aces (what?)\n  And at the same dice game, I caught six cases all over big faces\n  Now it's tipped laces, ready to dig faces\n  But the Bing, it ain't a bit spacious\n  Niggas loading up they rib cages, cats like to rip places\n  Bloody lip tasters, Cam is a big racist\n\n  But I stay important, big places\n  But the world know your girl though, I fuck her off a furlough\n  Should be up, hook me up, all your sales could be luck\n  Only question for these ducks is, \"Baby girl, could we fuck?\"\n  You the type that need a wife\n  Thought L-O-X told y'all the key to life, asshole\n  Yo, I don't play around, I lay it down, fuck around, I'll spray a round\n  Flip a biscuit, nigga, risk it, my ass, you can kick or kiss it (yo)\n\n  Ain't no niggas in the world you know thorough than this\n  Bust off and sit the hot barrel dead on your lips\n  Like two thirds of a brick, Paniero and 'Kiss\n  The crystal white fluffy parts that'll come back quick\n\n  See, the plan is to stash all, cash y'all's\n  The weed so strong, they gotta put it in glass jars\n  Niggas try to smoke me out then moke me out\n  'Cause the rims on my new joint be poking out\n\n  I'm about to have no feelings, shit is deep\n  Do they dance with the Devil when they sleep?\n  I wake up gripping the air, wishing to hear\n  Shit that they kick in your ear when your soul drift in the air\n\n  My gift is half-rotten, when I spit, it's a tear\n  That shit'll drop down my eye, I'm too tired to cry\n  And I ain't never seen a nigga that's too live to die\n  They say you get what you ask for, so get it 'cause you asked for it\n\n  A nigga ain't a thief, then he better have the cash for it\n  And we gon' be around 'til your body rot\n  And if the Feds brung us in, we'd get the same time Gotti got\n  Nigga\n\n  Yo, yo, ayo, there's two ways into the hood, one plain\n  The other smoking chronic like straight to the brain\n  Yo, let's get loose, Hennessy straight with tomato juice\n  Queens stallions, buy guns from the Italians\n\n  Now y'all niggas recognize medallions\n  I play the best hood, OT with Tim Westwood\n  Used to be on Section 8, now my section is good\n  Thugged out niggas, we eat as much as we could\n\n  And I don't give a fuck, what? Yo, I say my shit\n  And I don't give a fuck, what? You can save your shit\n  Y'all niggas like extra skin on my dick (uh-huh)\n  Listen to Bob Marley, y'all funny niggas like Steve Harvey\n\n  You fronting live with a weak army\n  I play the nice guy too and even smoke with you\n  But the realness, I ain't got no love for you\n  That's why I'll never do a song with you\n\n  Not even if your baby moms fucked the crew\n  And promised to give us head and swallow too\n  I still say no, no is no, no can though\n  Y'all niggas drinking Haterade, drinking my flow, yo\n\n  Thugged-Out\n  Real motherfucking shit right here (thug shit right here, motherfucker)\n  Motherfucking thug shit right here (thug shit, what?)\n  (Fuck is the deal?) What?\n  (What the fuck is the deal? What the fuck is the deal?)\n  (What? What? What?)\n\n  Thugged-Out Entertainment (Thugged-Out Entertainment)\n  Undertaiment (Undertaiment)\n  Fuck it, L-O-X, Ruff Ryders (L-O-X, Ryders), What?\n  (What? What? What? What? What?)\n  Terror Squad (Terror Squad)\n  This shit is fuckin' official right here\n"},{"id":33270123,"name":"Banned From TV [feat. Nature, Big Pun & Jadakiss]","trackName":"Banned From TV [feat. Nature, Big Pun & Jadakiss]","artistName":"Noreaga","albumName":"N.O.R.E","duration":314.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"N.O.R.E, The Movement (c'mon), comin' soon\n(What? Shut the fuck up)\n(Trying to watch this movie)\nYo, Jungle (shut the fuck up)\n'98, it's ours (yeah)\n\nAyo, ayo, regardless of rain or snow, sleet or hail\nI kick street tales, choking niggas like I'm Sprewell\nGolden State, holding your fate in the palm of my hand\nBlow you away like it's part of the plan\n\nI gotta call it like I see it, talk it like I be it\nWalking my walk, thugged out orthopedic\n'Cause I'm soon to be up, give me room, watch me heat up\nNiggas try to stick me like Abner Louima\n\nFollow the leader, make me go extra hard\nYo, N.O.R.E., should I hold back or show the repertoire?\nQuit at 16 or throw in extra bars just for the non-believers?\nI show 'em why it's so hard to reach us (why?)\n\nI get pussy with my father's features, puff heavily\nSee me at six-one, weigh a buck 70\nCatch me in spots y'all niggas never be\nPacked in (pack it in) like Green Bay, Harlem week to Queens day\n\nPerforming acapella, no DJ\n'98 live, no replays (how we do it?) Make it seem easy\nSo tell a friend to tell a friend that it's them again\nNature, Noreaga, wild gremlins (yo, yo, yo)\n\nChampagne on the rocks, sporting a Fort Knox Lazarus\nShark salad with carrots, pork chops and applesauce\nTwin connection, disrespect and watch your body cave in\nPump the shotty guage in, hit the shorty while he potty training\nI ain't playing, I'm truly the worst\nHe'll be the first to get his whole body fully reversed\nUzi your hearse, leave you double-dead, I'm a bubble-head\nI never listened to nothing my mother said\n\nAyo, I hold niggas ransom for money like Johnny Handsome\nBeen soning niggas so long, I think I got a grandson\nMy passion is money, a stash, and a honey\nThat won't ask no questions but'll blast anybody\nThat's my kind of girl, kind of world I want to live in\nNot a cell or a prison or in Hell's Armageddon\nJust a little ghetto where my niggas control the middle\nAnd know the riddles of life where others know only a little (uh-uh, uh, yeah, yo)\n\nBeen in rich places, sick places\nSee, my story six thousand, six hundred sixty-six pages\nWages, I rolled six aces (what?)\nAnd at the same dice game, I caught six cases all over big faces\nNow it's tipped laces, ready to dig faces\nBut the Bing, it ain't a bit spacious\nNiggas loading up they rib cages, cats like to rip places\nBloody lip tasters, Cam is a big racist\n\nBut I stay important, big places\nBut the world know your girl though, I fuck her off a furlough\nShould be up, hook me up, all your sales could be luck\nOnly question for these ducks is, \"Baby girl, could we fuck?\"\nYou the type that need a wife\nThought L-O-X told y'all the key to life, asshole\nYo, I don't play around, I lay it down, fuck around, I'll spray a round\nFlip a biscuit, nigga, risk it, my ass, you can kick or kiss it (yo)\n\nAin't no niggas in the world you know thorough than this\nBust off and sit the hot barrel dead on your lips\nLike two thirds of a brick, Paniero and 'Kiss\nThe crystal white fluffy parts that'll come back quick\n\nSee, the plan is to stash all, cash y'all's\nThe weed so strong, they gotta put it in glass jars\nNiggas try to smoke me out then moke me out\n'Cause the rims on my new joint be poking out\n\nI'm about to have no feelings, shit is deep\nDo they dance with the Devil when they sleep?\nI wake up gripping the air, wishing to hear\nShit that they kick in your ear when your soul drift in the air\n\nMy gift is half-rotten, when I spit, it's a tear\nThat shit'll drop down my eye, I'm too tired to cry\nAnd I ain't never seen a nigga that's too live to die\nThey say you get what you ask for, so get it 'cause you asked for it\n\nA nigga ain't a thief, then he better have the cash for it\nAnd we gon' be around 'til your body rot\nAnd if the Feds brung us in, we'd get the same time Gotti got\nNigga\n\nYo, yo, ayo, there's two ways into the hood, one plain\nThe other smoking chronic like straight to the brain\nYo, let's get loose, Hennessy straight with tomato juice\nQueens stallions, buy guns from the Italians\n\nNow y'all niggas recognize medallions\nI play the best hood, OT with Tim Westwood\nUsed to be on Section 8, now my section is good\nThugged out niggas, we eat as much as we could\n\nAnd I don't give a fuck, what? Yo, I say my shit\nAnd I don't give a fuck, what? You can save your shit\nY'all niggas like extra skin on my dick (uh-huh)\nListen to Bob Marley, y'all funny niggas like Steve Harvey\n\nYou fronting live with a weak army\nI play the nice guy too and even smoke with you\nBut the realness, I ain't got no love for you\nThat's why I'll never do a song with you\n\nNot even if your baby moms fucked the crew\nAnd promised to give us head and swallow too\nI still say no, no is no, no can though\nY'all niggas drinking Haterade, drinking my flow, yo\n\nThugged-Out\nReal motherfucking shit right here (thug shit right here, motherfucker)\nMotherfucking thug shit right here (thug shit, what?)\n(Fuck is the deal?) What?\n(What the fuck is the deal? What the fuck is the deal?)\n(What? What? What?)\n\nThugged-Out Entertainment (Thugged-Out Entertainment)\nUndertaiment (Undertaiment)\nFuck it, L-O-X, Ruff Ryders (L-O-X, Ryders), What?\n(What? What? What? What? What?)\nTerror Squad (Terror Squad)\nThis shit is fuckin' official right here","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Banned From TV [feat. Nature, Big Pun & Jadakiss]\n  artist: Noreaga\n  album: N.O.R.E\n  duration_ms: 314000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  N.O.R.E, The Movement (c'mon), comin' soon\n  (What? Shut the fuck up)\n  (Trying to watch this movie)\n  Yo, Jungle (shut the fuck up)\n  '98, it's ours (yeah)\n\n  Ayo, ayo, regardless of rain or snow, sleet or hail\n  I kick street tales, choking niggas like I'm Sprewell\n  Golden State, holding your fate in the palm of my hand\n  Blow you away like it's part of the plan\n\n  I gotta call it like I see it, talk it like I be it\n  Walking my walk, thugged out orthopedic\n  'Cause I'm soon to be up, give me room, watch me heat up\n  Niggas try to stick me like Abner Louima\n\n  Follow the leader, make me go extra hard\n  Yo, N.O.R.E., should I hold back or show the repertoire?\n  Quit at 16 or throw in extra bars just for the non-believers?\n  I show 'em why it's so hard to reach us (why?)\n\n  I get pussy with my father's features, puff heavily\n  See me at six-one, weigh a buck 70\n  Catch me in spots y'all niggas never be\n  Packed in (pack it in) like Green Bay, Harlem week to Queens day\n\n  Performing acapella, no DJ\n  '98 live, no replays (how we do it?) Make it seem easy\n  So tell a friend to tell a friend that it's them again\n  Nature, Noreaga, wild gremlins (yo, yo, yo)\n\n  Champagne on the rocks, sporting a Fort Knox Lazarus\n  Shark salad with carrots, pork chops and applesauce\n  Twin connection, disrespect and watch your body cave in\n  Pump the shotty guage in, hit the shorty while he potty training\n  I ain't playing, I'm truly the worst\n  He'll be the first to get his whole body fully reversed\n  Uzi your hearse, leave you double-dead, I'm a bubble-head\n  I never listened to nothing my mother said\n\n  Ayo, I hold niggas ransom for money like Johnny Handsome\n  Been soning niggas so long, I think I got a grandson\n  My passion is money, a stash, and a honey\n  That won't ask no questions but'll blast anybody\n  That's my kind of girl, kind of world I want to live in\n  Not a cell or a prison or in Hell's Armageddon\n  Just a little ghetto where my niggas control the middle\n  And know the riddles of life where others know only a little (uh-uh, uh, yeah, yo)\n\n  Been in rich places, sick places\n  See, my story six thousand, six hundred sixty-six pages\n  Wages, I rolled six aces (what?)\n  And at the same dice game, I caught six cases all over big faces\n  Now it's tipped laces, ready to dig faces\n  But the Bing, it ain't a bit spacious\n  Niggas loading up they rib cages, cats like to rip places\n  Bloody lip tasters, Cam is a big racist\n\n  But I stay important, big places\n  But the world know your girl though, I fuck her off a furlough\n  Should be up, hook me up, all your sales could be luck\n  Only question for these ducks is, \"Baby girl, could we fuck?\"\n  You the type that need a wife\n  Thought L-O-X told y'all the key to life, asshole\n  Yo, I don't play around, I lay it down, fuck around, I'll spray a round\n  Flip a biscuit, nigga, risk it, my ass, you can kick or kiss it (yo)\n\n  Ain't no niggas in the world you know thorough than this\n  Bust off and sit the hot barrel dead on your lips\n  Like two thirds of a brick, Paniero and 'Kiss\n  The crystal white fluffy parts that'll come back quick\n\n  See, the plan is to stash all, cash y'all's\n  The weed so strong, they gotta put it in glass jars\n  Niggas try to smoke me out then moke me out\n  'Cause the rims on my new joint be poking out\n\n  I'm about to have no feelings, shit is deep\n  Do they dance with the Devil when they sleep?\n  I wake up gripping the air, wishing to hear\n  Shit that they kick in your ear when your soul drift in the air\n\n  My gift is half-rotten, when I spit, it's a tear\n  That shit'll drop down my eye, I'm too tired to cry\n  And I ain't never seen a nigga that's too live to die\n  They say you get what you ask for, so get it 'cause you asked for it\n\n  A nigga ain't a thief, then he better have the cash for it\n  And we gon' be around 'til your body rot\n  And if the Feds brung us in, we'd get the same time Gotti got\n  Nigga\n\n  Yo, yo, ayo, there's two ways into the hood, one plain\n  The other smoking chronic like straight to the brain\n  Yo, let's get loose, Hennessy straight with tomato juice\n  Queens stallions, buy guns from the Italians\n\n  Now y'all niggas recognize medallions\n  I play the best hood, OT with Tim Westwood\n  Used to be on Section 8, now my section is good\n  Thugged out niggas, we eat as much as we could\n\n  And I don't give a fuck, what? Yo, I say my shit\n  And I don't give a fuck, what? You can save your shit\n  Y'all niggas like extra skin on my dick (uh-huh)\n  Listen to Bob Marley, y'all funny niggas like Steve Harvey\n\n  You fronting live with a weak army\n  I play the nice guy too and even smoke with you\n  But the realness, I ain't got no love for you\n  That's why I'll never do a song with you\n\n  Not even if your baby moms fucked the crew\n  And promised to give us head and swallow too\n  I still say no, no is no, no can though\n  Y'all niggas drinking Haterade, drinking my flow, yo\n\n  Thugged-Out\n  Real motherfucking shit right here (thug shit right here, motherfucker)\n  Motherfucking thug shit right here (thug shit, what?)\n  (Fuck is the deal?) What?\n  (What the fuck is the deal? What the fuck is the deal?)\n  (What? What? What?)\n\n  Thugged-Out Entertainment (Thugged-Out Entertainment)\n  Undertaiment (Undertaiment)\n  Fuck it, L-O-X, Ruff Ryders (L-O-X, Ryders), What?\n  (What? What? What? What? What?)\n  Terror Squad (Terror Squad)\n  This shit is fuckin' official right here\n"},{"id":17510150,"name":"Banned From TV (original version)","trackName":"Banned From TV (original version)","artistName":"N.O.R.E.","albumName":"Superthug","duration":313.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"N.O.R.E the movie coming soon\nTimbaland, shut the fuck up\nTryna be out in '98, you know\nI'm tryna watch this movie, this the real shit\nShut the fuck up, '98, it's ours\n\nRegardless of rain or snow, sleet or hail\nI kick street tales, choking niggas like I'm Sprewell\nGolden State, holding your fate in the palm of my hand\nBlow you away like it's part of the plan\nI gotta call it like I see it, talk it like I be it\nWalking my walk, thugged out orthopedic\nCause I'm soon to be up, give me room watch me heat up\nNiggas try to stick me like Abdul Louima\nFollow the leader, make me go extra hard\nYo N.O.R.E. should I hold back or show the repertoire\nQuit at sixteen or throw in extra bars just for the non-believers\nI show them why it's so hard to reach us\nI get pussy with my father's features, puff heavily\nSee me at 6'1\", weigh a buck 70\nCatch me in spots y'all niggas never be\nPacked in like Green Bay, Harlem week to Queens day\nPerforming acapella, no DJ\n'98 Live, no replays, make it seem easy\nSo tell a friend to tell a friend\nThat it's them again, Nature, Noreaga, wild gremlins\n\nChampagne on the rocks, sporting a Fort Knox Lazarus\nShark salad with carrots, pork chops and applesauce\nTwin connection, disrespect watch your body cave in\nPump the shotty guaging, hit the shorty while he potty training\nI ain't playing, I'm truly the worst\nYou'll be the first to get his whole body fully reversed\nUzi ya hearse, leave you double-dead, I'm a bubble-head\nI never listen to nothing my mother said\nI hold niggas ransom for money like Johnny Handsome\nBeen soning niggas for so long, I think I got a grandson\nMy passion is money, a stash and a honey\nThat won't ask questions but will blast anybody\nThat's my kind of girl, kind of world I want to live in\nNot a cell or a prison or in Hell's Armageddon\nJust a little ghetto where my niggas control the middle\nWe know the riddles of life where others know only a little\n\nBeen in rich places, sick places\nSeen my story, 6, 666 pages\nWages, I rolled six aces and at the same dice games\nI caught six cases, all over big faces\nNow it's tipped laces, ready to dig faces\nBut the banger ain't a bit spacious\nNiggas loading up their rib cages, cats like the rib places\nBloody lip taste it, but Cam is a big racist\nBut I stay in import the pig places\nBut the world know the girl though, I fuck her off a furlough\nShe'll be up, hook me up, all your sales could be luck\nOnly question for these ducks is, \"Baby girl could we fuck?\"\nYou the type that need a wife\nThought L-O-X told y'all the key to life, asshole\nYo I don't play around, I lay it down, fuck around, I spray a round\nFlick a biscuit, nigga risk it, my ass you can kick or kiss it\n\nAin't no niggas in the world more thorough than this\nBust off and sit the hot barrel dead on your lips\nLike two thirds of a brick, (Paniero) and 'Kiss\nThe kiss the crystal white fluffy part that'll (come back quick\n(See the plan is to stash all) and cash y'all\n(The weed so strong), they gotta put it glass jars\nNiggas try to smoke me out the (moke me out)\nCause the rims on my new joint be poking out\n(I'm about to have no feelings, shit is deep)\nDo they dance with the Devil when they sleep\n(I wake up gripping the air, wishing to hear)\nShit that they kick in your ear when your soul drift in the air\n(My gift is half-rotten when I'm spitting some tears\nThat shit'll drop down my eye, I'm too tired to cry)\nAnd I ain't never seen a nigga that too live to die\n(They say you get what you ask for) So get it cause you asked for it\n(If a nigga ain't a thief) then he better have the cash for it\n(And we gonna be around till ya body rot)\nAnd if the Feds bring us in we get the same time Gotti got nigga\n\nThere's two ways into the hood, one plain\nThe other smoke chronic like straight to the brain\nLet's get loose, Hennessy straight with tomato juice\nQueens stallion, my guns, fully Italian\nNow y'all niggas recognize medallions\nI play the best hood, O-T with Tim Westwood\nUsed to be on Section 8, now my section is good\nThugged out niggas, we eat as much as we could\nAnd I don't give a fuck what, yo I save my shit\nAnd I don't give a fuck what, you can save your shit\nY'all niggas like extra skin on my dick\nListen to Bob Marley, y'all funny niggas like Steve Harvey\nFronting live with a weak army\nI play the nice guy too and even smoke with you\nBut the realness, I ain't got no love for you\nThat's why I never do a song with you\nNot even if your baby moms fucked the crew\nAnd promised to give us head and swallow too\nI still say low, no is no, no can do\nYa niggas drinking Haterade, drinking my flow\n\nYo, thug shit thug shit what what\nWhat the fuck is the deal, thugged out entertainment\nUntertainment\nL-o-x, Terror Squad, this shit is fuckin' official","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Banned From TV (original version)\n  artist: N.O.R.E.\n  album: Superthug\n  duration_ms: 313000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  N.O.R.E the movie coming soon\n  Timbaland, shut the fuck up\n  Tryna be out in '98, you know\n  I'm tryna watch this movie, this the real shit\n  Shut the fuck up, '98, it's ours\n\n  Regardless of rain or snow, sleet or hail\n  I kick street tales, choking niggas like I'm Sprewell\n  Golden State, holding your fate in the palm of my hand\n  Blow you away like it's part of the plan\n  I gotta call it like I see it, talk it like I be it\n  Walking my walk, thugged out orthopedic\n  Cause I'm soon to be up, give me room watch me heat up\n  Niggas try to stick me like Abdul Louima\n  Follow the leader, make me go extra hard\n  Yo N.O.R.E. should I hold back or show the repertoire\n  Quit at sixteen or throw in extra bars just for the non-believers\n  I show them why it's so hard to reach us\n  I get pussy with my father's features, puff heavily\n  See me at 6'1\", weigh a buck 70\n  Catch me in spots y'all niggas never be\n  Packed in like Green Bay, Harlem week to Queens day\n  Performing acapella, no DJ\n  '98 Live, no replays, make it seem easy\n  So tell a friend to tell a friend\n  That it's them again, Nature, Noreaga, wild gremlins\n\n  Champagne on the rocks, sporting a Fort Knox Lazarus\n  Shark salad with carrots, pork chops and applesauce\n  Twin connection, disrespect watch your body cave in\n  Pump the shotty guaging, hit the shorty while he potty training\n  I ain't playing, I'm truly the worst\n  You'll be the first to get his whole body fully reversed\n  Uzi ya hearse, leave you double-dead, I'm a bubble-head\n  I never listen to nothing my mother said\n  I hold niggas ransom for money like Johnny Handsome\n  Been soning niggas for so long, I think I got a grandson\n  My passion is money, a stash and a honey\n  That won't ask questions but will blast anybody\n  That's my kind of girl, kind of world I want to live in\n  Not a cell or a prison or in Hell's Armageddon\n  Just a little ghetto where my niggas control the middle\n  We know the riddles of life where others know only a little\n\n  Been in rich places, sick places\n  Seen my story, 6, 666 pages\n  Wages, I rolled six aces and at the same dice games\n  I caught six cases, all over big faces\n  Now it's tipped laces, ready to dig faces\n  But the banger ain't a bit spacious\n  Niggas loading up their rib cages, cats like the rib places\n  Bloody lip taste it, but Cam is a big racist\n  But I stay in import the pig places\n  But the world know the girl though, I fuck her off a furlough\n  She'll be up, hook me up, all your sales could be luck\n  Only question for these ducks is, \"Baby girl could we fuck?\"\n  You the type that need a wife\n  Thought L-O-X told y'all the key to life, asshole\n  Yo I don't play around, I lay it down, fuck around, I spray a round\n  Flick a biscuit, nigga risk it, my ass you can kick or kiss it\n\n  Ain't no niggas in the world more thorough than this\n  Bust off and sit the hot barrel dead on your lips\n  Like two thirds of a brick, (Paniero) and 'Kiss\n  The kiss the crystal white fluffy part that'll (come back quick\n  (See the plan is to stash all) and cash y'all\n  (The weed so strong), they gotta put it glass jars\n  Niggas try to smoke me out the (moke me out)\n  Cause the rims on my new joint be poking out\n  (I'm about to have no feelings, shit is deep)\n  Do they dance with the Devil when they sleep\n  (I wake up gripping the air, wishing to hear)\n  Shit that they kick in your ear when your soul drift in the air\n  (My gift is half-rotten when I'm spitting some tears\n  That shit'll drop down my eye, I'm too tired to cry)\n  And I ain't never seen a nigga that too live to die\n  (They say you get what you ask for) So get it cause you asked for it\n  (If a nigga ain't a thief) then he better have the cash for it\n  (And we gonna be around till ya body rot)\n  And if the Feds bring us in we get the same time Gotti got nigga\n\n  There's two ways into the hood, one plain\n  The other smoke chronic like straight to the brain\n  Let's get loose, Hennessy straight with tomato juice\n  Queens stallion, my guns, fully Italian\n  Now y'all niggas recognize medallions\n  I play the best hood, O-T with Tim Westwood\n  Used to be on Section 8, now my section is good\n  Thugged out niggas, we eat as much as we could\n  And I don't give a fuck what, yo I save my shit\n  And I don't give a fuck what, you can save your shit\n  Y'all niggas like extra skin on my dick\n  Listen to Bob Marley, y'all funny niggas like Steve Harvey\n  Fronting live with a weak army\n  I play the nice guy too and even smoke with you\n  But the realness, I ain't got no love for you\n  That's why I never do a song with you\n  Not even if your baby moms fucked the crew\n  And promised to give us head and swallow too\n  I still say low, no is no, no can do\n  Ya niggas drinking Haterade, drinking my flow\n\n  Yo, thug shit thug shit what what\n  What the fuck is the deal, thugged out entertainment\n  Untertainment\n  L-o-x, Terror Squad, this shit is fuckin' official\n"},{"id":24557444,"name":"Banned From TV","trackName":"Banned From TV","artistName":"N.O.R.E. feat. Nature, Big Pun, Cam’ron, Styles P & Jadakiss","albumName":"The Best of Capone -N- Noreaga (Thugged da F*@# Out)","duration":313.213333,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"N.O.R.E, The Movement (c'mon), comin' soon\n(What? Shut the fuck up)\n(Trying to watch this movie)\nYo, Jungle (shut the fuck up)\n'98, it's ours (yeah)\n\nAyo, ayo, regardless of rain or snow, sleet or hail\nI kick street tales, choking niggas like I'm Sprewell\nGolden State, holding your fate in the palm of my hand\nBlow you away like it's part of the plan\n\nI gotta call it like I see it, talk it like I be it\nWalking my walk, thugged out orthopedic\n'Cause I'm soon to be up, give me room, watch me heat up\nNiggas try to stick me like Abner Louima\n\nFollow the leader, make me go extra hard\nYo, N.O.R.E., should I hold back or show the repertoire?\nQuit at 16 or throw in extra bars just for the non-believers?\nI show 'em why it's so hard to reach us (why?)\n\nI get pussy with my father's features, puff heavily\nSee me at six-one, weigh a buck 70\nCatch me in spots y'all niggas never be\nPacked in (pack it in) like Green Bay, Harlem week to Queens day\n\nPerforming acapella, no DJ\n'98 live, no replays (how we do it?) Make it seem easy\nSo tell a friend to tell a friend that it's them again\nNature, Noreaga, wild gremlins (yo, yo, yo)\n\nChampagne on the rocks, sporting a Fort Knox Lazarus\nShark salad with carrots, pork chops and applesauce\nTwin connection, disrespect and watch your body cave in\nPump the shotty guage in, hit the shorty while he potty training\nI ain't playing, I'm truly the worst\nHe'll be the first to get his whole body fully reversed\nUzi your hearse, leave you double-dead, I'm a bubble-head\nI never listened to nothing my mother said\n\nAyo, I hold niggas ransom for money like Johnny Handsome\nBeen soning niggas so long, I think I got a grandson\nMy passion is money, a stash, and a honey\nThat won't ask no questions but'll blast anybody\nThat's my kind of girl, kind of world I want to live in\nNot a cell or a prison or in Hell's Armageddon\nJust a little ghetto where my niggas control the middle\nAnd know the riddles of life where others know only a little (uh-uh, uh, yeah, yo)\n\nBeen in rich places, sick places\nSee, my story six thousand, six hundred sixty-six pages\nWages, I rolled six aces (what?)\nAnd at the same dice game, I caught six cases all over big faces\nNow it's tipped laces, ready to dig faces\nBut the Bing, it ain't a bit spacious\nNiggas loading up they rib cages, cats like to rip places\nBloody lip tasters, Cam is a big racist\n\nBut I stay important, big places\nBut the world know your girl though, I fuck her off a furlough\nShould be up, hook me up, all your sales could be luck\nOnly question for these ducks is, \"Baby girl, could we fuck?\"\nYou the type that need a wife\nThought L-O-X told y'all the key to life, asshole\nYo, I don't play around, I lay it down, fuck around, I'll spray a round\nFlip a biscuit, nigga, risk it, my ass, you can kick or kiss it (yo)\n\nAin't no niggas in the world you know thorough than this\nBust off and sit the hot barrel dead on your lips\nLike two thirds of a brick, Paniero and 'Kiss\nThe crystal white fluffy parts that'll come back quick\n\nSee, the plan is to stash all, cash y'all's\nThe weed so strong, they gotta put it in glass jars\nNiggas try to smoke me out then moke me out\n'Cause the rims on my new joint be poking out\n\nI'm about to have no feelings, shit is deep\nDo they dance with the Devil when they sleep?\nI wake up gripping the air, wishing to hear\nShit that they kick in your ear when your soul drift in the air\n\nMy gift is half-rotten, when I spit, it's a tear\nThat shit'll drop down my eye, I'm too tired to cry\nAnd I ain't never seen a nigga that's too live to die\nThey say you get what you ask for, so get it 'cause you asked for it\n\nA nigga ain't a thief, then he better have the cash for it\nAnd we gon' be around 'til your body rot\nAnd if the Feds brung us in, we'd get the same time Gotti got\nNigga\n\nYo, yo, ayo, there's two ways into the hood, one plain\nThe other smoking chronic like straight to the brain\nYo, let's get loose, Hennessy straight with tomato juice\nQueens stallions, buy guns from the Italians\n\nNow y'all niggas recognize medallions\nI play the best hood, OT with Tim Westwood\nUsed to be on Section 8, now my section is good\nThugged out niggas, we eat as much as we could\n\nAnd I don't give a fuck, what? Yo, I say my shit\nAnd I don't give a fuck, what? You can save your shit\nY'all niggas like extra skin on my dick (uh-huh)\nListen to Bob Marley, y'all funny niggas like Steve Harvey\n\nYou fronting live with a weak army\nI play the nice guy too and even smoke with you\nBut the realness, I ain't got no love for you\nThat's why I'll never do a song with you\n\nNot even if your baby moms fucked the crew\nAnd promised to give us head and swallow too\nI still say no, no is no, no can though\nY'all niggas drinking Haterade, drinking my flow, yo\n\nThugged-Out\nReal motherfucking shit right here (thug shit right here, motherfucker)\nMotherfucking thug shit right here (thug shit, what?)\n(Fuck is the deal?) What?\n(What the fuck is the deal? What the fuck is the deal?)\n(What? What? What?)\n\nThugged-Out Entertainment (Thugged-Out Entertainment)\nUndertaiment (Undertaiment)\nFuck it, L-O-X, Ruff Ryders (L-O-X, Ryders), What?\n(What? What? What? What? What?)\nTerror Squad (Terror Squad)\nThis shit is fuckin' official right here","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Banned From TV\n  artist: N.O.R.E. feat. Nature, Big Pun, Cam’ron, Styles P & Jadakiss\n  album: The Best of Capone -N- Noreaga (Thugged da F*@# Out)\n  duration_ms: 313213\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  N.O.R.E, The Movement (c'mon), comin' soon\n  (What? Shut the fuck up)\n  (Trying to watch this movie)\n  Yo, Jungle (shut the fuck up)\n  '98, it's ours (yeah)\n\n  Ayo, ayo, regardless of rain or snow, sleet or hail\n  I kick street tales, choking niggas like I'm Sprewell\n  Golden State, holding your fate in the palm of my hand\n  Blow you away like it's part of the plan\n\n  I gotta call it like I see it, talk it like I be it\n  Walking my walk, thugged out orthopedic\n  'Cause I'm soon to be up, give me room, watch me heat up\n  Niggas try to stick me like Abner Louima\n\n  Follow the leader, make me go extra hard\n  Yo, N.O.R.E., should I hold back or show the repertoire?\n  Quit at 16 or throw in extra bars just for the non-believers?\n  I show 'em why it's so hard to reach us (why?)\n\n  I get pussy with my father's features, puff heavily\n  See me at six-one, weigh a buck 70\n  Catch me in spots y'all niggas never be\n  Packed in (pack it in) like Green Bay, Harlem week to Queens day\n\n  Performing acapella, no DJ\n  '98 live, no replays (how we do it?) Make it seem easy\n  So tell a friend to tell a friend that it's them again\n  Nature, Noreaga, wild gremlins (yo, yo, yo)\n\n  Champagne on the rocks, sporting a Fort Knox Lazarus\n  Shark salad with carrots, pork chops and applesauce\n  Twin connection, disrespect and watch your body cave in\n  Pump the shotty guage in, hit the shorty while he potty training\n  I ain't playing, I'm truly the worst\n  He'll be the first to get his whole body fully reversed\n  Uzi your hearse, leave you double-dead, I'm a bubble-head\n  I never listened to nothing my mother said\n\n  Ayo, I hold niggas ransom for money like Johnny Handsome\n  Been soning niggas so long, I think I got a grandson\n  My passion is money, a stash, and a honey\n  That won't ask no questions but'll blast anybody\n  That's my kind of girl, kind of world I want to live in\n  Not a cell or a prison or in Hell's Armageddon\n  Just a little ghetto where my niggas control the middle\n  And know the riddles of life where others know only a little (uh-uh, uh, yeah, yo)\n\n  Been in rich places, sick places\n  See, my story six thousand, six hundred sixty-six pages\n  Wages, I rolled six aces (what?)\n  And at the same dice game, I caught six cases all over big faces\n  Now it's tipped laces, ready to dig faces\n  But the Bing, it ain't a bit spacious\n  Niggas loading up they rib cages, cats like to rip places\n  Bloody lip tasters, Cam is a big racist\n\n  But I stay important, big places\n  But the world know your girl though, I fuck her off a furlough\n  Should be up, hook me up, all your sales could be luck\n  Only question for these ducks is, \"Baby girl, could we fuck?\"\n  You the type that need a wife\n  Thought L-O-X told y'all the key to life, asshole\n  Yo, I don't play around, I lay it down, fuck around, I'll spray a round\n  Flip a biscuit, nigga, risk it, my ass, you can kick or kiss it (yo)\n\n  Ain't no niggas in the world you know thorough than this\n  Bust off and sit the hot barrel dead on your lips\n  Like two thirds of a brick, Paniero and 'Kiss\n  The crystal white fluffy parts that'll come back quick\n\n  See, the plan is to stash all, cash y'all's\n  The weed so strong, they gotta put it in glass jars\n  Niggas try to smoke me out then moke me out\n  'Cause the rims on my new joint be poking out\n\n  I'm about to have no feelings, shit is deep\n  Do they dance with the Devil when they sleep?\n  I wake up gripping the air, wishing to hear\n  Shit that they kick in your ear when your soul drift in the air\n\n  My gift is half-rotten, when I spit, it's a tear\n  That shit'll drop down my eye, I'm too tired to cry\n  And I ain't never seen a nigga that's too live to die\n  They say you get what you ask for, so get it 'cause you asked for it\n\n  A nigga ain't a thief, then he better have the cash for it\n  And we gon' be around 'til your body rot\n  And if the Feds brung us in, we'd get the same time Gotti got\n  Nigga\n\n  Yo, yo, ayo, there's two ways into the hood, one plain\n  The other smoking chronic like straight to the brain\n  Yo, let's get loose, Hennessy straight with tomato juice\n  Queens stallions, buy guns from the Italians\n\n  Now y'all niggas recognize medallions\n  I play the best hood, OT with Tim Westwood\n  Used to be on Section 8, now my section is good\n  Thugged out niggas, we eat as much as we could\n\n  And I don't give a fuck, what? Yo, I say my shit\n  And I don't give a fuck, what? You can save your shit\n  Y'all niggas like extra skin on my dick (uh-huh)\n  Listen to Bob Marley, y'all funny niggas like Steve Harvey\n\n  You fronting live with a weak army\n  I play the nice guy too and even smoke with you\n  But the realness, I ain't got no love for you\n  That's why I'll never do a song with you\n\n  Not even if your baby moms fucked the crew\n  And promised to give us head and swallow too\n  I still say no, no is no, no can though\n  Y'all niggas drinking Haterade, drinking my flow, yo\n\n  Thugged-Out\n  Real motherfucking shit right here (thug shit right here, motherfucker)\n  Motherfucking thug shit right here (thug shit, what?)\n  (Fuck is the deal?) What?\n  (What the fuck is the deal? What the fuck is the deal?)\n  (What? What? What?)\n\n  Thugged-Out Entertainment (Thugged-Out Entertainment)\n  Undertaiment (Undertaiment)\n  Fuck it, L-O-X, Ruff Ryders (L-O-X, Ryders), What?\n  (What? What? What? What? What?)\n  Terror Squad (Terror Squad)\n  This shit is fuckin' official right here\n"},{"id":28319664,"name":"Banned From TV (feat. Big Pun, Cam'Ron, Jadakiss, Nature & Styles P)","trackName":"Banned From TV (feat. Big Pun, Cam'Ron, Jadakiss, Nature & Styles P)","artistName":"Noreaga","albumName":"N.O.R.E","duration":312.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"N.O.R.E, The Movement (c'mon), comin' soon\n(What? Shut the fuck up)\n(Trying to watch this movie)\nYo, Jungle (shut the fuck up)\n'98, it's ours (yeah)\n\nAyo, ayo, regardless of rain or snow, sleet or hail\nI kick street tales, choking niggas like I'm Sprewell\nGolden State, holding your fate in the palm of my hand\nBlow you away like it's part of the plan\n\nI gotta call it like I see it, talk it like I be it\nWalking my walk, thugged out orthopedic\n'Cause I'm soon to be up, give me room, watch me heat up\nNiggas try to stick me like Abner Louima\n\nFollow the leader, make me go extra hard\nYo, N.O.R.E., should I hold back or show the repertoire?\nQuit at 16 or throw in extra bars just for the non-believers?\nI show 'em why it's so hard to reach us (why?)\n\nI get pussy with my father's features, puff heavily\nSee me at six-one, weigh a buck 70\nCatch me in spots y'all niggas never be\nPacked in (pack it in) like Green Bay, Harlem week to Queens day\n\nPerforming acapella, no DJ\n'98 live, no replays (how we do it?) Make it seem easy\nSo tell a friend to tell a friend that it's them again\nNature, Noreaga, wild gremlins (yo, yo, yo)\n\nChampagne on the rocks, sporting a Fort Knox Lazarus\nShark salad with carrots, pork chops and applesauce\nTwin connection, disrespect and watch your body cave in\nPump the shotty guage in, hit the shorty while he potty training\nI ain't playing, I'm truly the worst\nHe'll be the first to get his whole body fully reversed\nUzi your hearse, leave you double-dead, I'm a bubble-head\nI never listened to nothing my mother said\n\nAyo, I hold niggas ransom for money like Johnny Handsome\nBeen soning niggas so long, I think I got a grandson\nMy passion is money, a stash, and a honey\nThat won't ask no questions but'll blast anybody\nThat's my kind of girl, kind of world I want to live in\nNot a cell or a prison or in Hell's Armageddon\nJust a little ghetto where my niggas control the middle\nAnd know the riddles of life where others know only a little (uh-uh, uh, yeah, yo)\n\nBeen in rich places, sick places\nSee, my story six thousand, six hundred sixty-six pages\nWages, I rolled six aces (what?)\nAnd at the same dice game, I caught six cases all over big faces\nNow it's tipped laces, ready to dig faces\nBut the Bing, it ain't a bit spacious\nNiggas loading up they rib cages, cats like to rip places\nBloody lip tasters, Cam is a big racist\n\nBut I stay important, big places\nBut the world know your girl though, I fuck her off a furlough\nShould be up, hook me up, all your sales could be luck\nOnly question for these ducks is, \"Baby girl, could we fuck?\"\nYou the type that need a wife\nThought L-O-X told y'all the key to life, asshole\nYo, I don't play around, I lay it down, fuck around, I'll spray a round\nFlip a biscuit, nigga, risk it, my ass, you can kick or kiss it (yo)\n\nAin't no niggas in the world you know thorough than this\nBust off and sit the hot barrel dead on your lips\nLike two thirds of a brick, Paniero and 'Kiss\nThe crystal white fluffy parts that'll come back quick\n\nSee, the plan is to stash all, cash y'all's\nThe weed so strong, they gotta put it in glass jars\nNiggas try to smoke me out then moke me out\n'Cause the rims on my new joint be poking out\n\nI'm about to have no feelings, shit is deep\nDo they dance with the Devil when they sleep?\nI wake up gripping the air, wishing to hear\nShit that they kick in your ear when your soul drift in the air\n\nMy gift is half-rotten, when I spit, it's a tear\nThat shit'll drop down my eye, I'm too tired to cry\nAnd I ain't never seen a nigga that's too live to die\nThey say you get what you ask for, so get it 'cause you asked for it\n\nA nigga ain't a thief, then he better have the cash for it\nAnd we gon' be around 'til your body rot\nAnd if the Feds brung us in, we'd get the same time Gotti got\nNigga\n\nYo, yo, ayo, there's two ways into the hood, one plain\nThe other smoking chronic like straight to the brain\nYo, let's get loose, Hennessy straight with tomato juice\nQueens stallions, buy guns from the Italians\n\nNow y'all niggas recognize medallions\nI play the best hood, OT with Tim Westwood\nUsed to be on Section 8, now my section is good\nThugged out niggas, we eat as much as we could\n\nAnd I don't give a fuck, what? Yo, I say my shit\nAnd I don't give a fuck, what? You can save your shit\nY'all niggas like extra skin on my dick (uh-huh)\nListen to Bob Marley, y'all funny niggas like Steve Harvey\n\nYou fronting live with a weak army\nI play the nice guy too and even smoke with you\nBut the realness, I ain't got no love for you\nThat's why I'll never do a song with you\n\nNot even if your baby moms fucked the crew\nAnd promised to give us head and swallow too\nI still say no, no is no, no can though\nY'all niggas drinking Haterade, drinking my flow, yo\n\nThugged-Out\nReal motherfucking shit right here (thug shit right here, motherfucker)\nMotherfucking thug shit right here (thug shit, what?)\n(Fuck is the deal?) What?\n(What the fuck is the deal? What the fuck is the deal?)\n(What? What? What?)\n\nThugged-Out Entertainment (Thugged-Out Entertainment)\nUndertaiment (Undertaiment)\nFuck it, L-O-X, Ruff Ryders (L-O-X, Ryders), What?\n(What? What? What? What? What?)\nTerror Squad (Terror Squad)\nThis shit is fuckin' official right here","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Banned From TV (feat. Big Pun, Cam'Ron, Jadakiss, Nature & Styles P)\n  artist: Noreaga\n  album: N.O.R.E\n  duration_ms: 312000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  N.O.R.E, The Movement (c'mon), comin' soon\n  (What? Shut the fuck up)\n  (Trying to watch this movie)\n  Yo, Jungle (shut the fuck up)\n  '98, it's ours (yeah)\n\n  Ayo, ayo, regardless of rain or snow, sleet or hail\n  I kick street tales, choking niggas like I'm Sprewell\n  Golden State, holding your fate in the palm of my hand\n  Blow you away like it's part of the plan\n\n  I gotta call it like I see it, talk it like I be it\n  Walking my walk, thugged out orthopedic\n  'Cause I'm soon to be up, give me room, watch me heat up\n  Niggas try to stick me like Abner Louima\n\n  Follow the leader, make me go extra hard\n  Yo, N.O.R.E., should I hold back or show the repertoire?\n  Quit at 16 or throw in extra bars just for the non-believers?\n  I show 'em why it's so hard to reach us (why?)\n\n  I get pussy with my father's features, puff heavily\n  See me at six-one, weigh a buck 70\n  Catch me in spots y'all niggas never be\n  Packed in (pack it in) like Green Bay, Harlem week to Queens day\n\n  Performing acapella, no DJ\n  '98 live, no replays (how we do it?) Make it seem easy\n  So tell a friend to tell a friend that it's them again\n  Nature, Noreaga, wild gremlins (yo, yo, yo)\n\n  Champagne on the rocks, sporting a Fort Knox Lazarus\n  Shark salad with carrots, pork chops and applesauce\n  Twin connection, disrespect and watch your body cave in\n  Pump the shotty guage in, hit the shorty while he potty training\n  I ain't playing, I'm truly the worst\n  He'll be the first to get his whole body fully reversed\n  Uzi your hearse, leave you double-dead, I'm a bubble-head\n  I never listened to nothing my mother said\n\n  Ayo, I hold niggas ransom for money like Johnny Handsome\n  Been soning niggas so long, I think I got a grandson\n  My passion is money, a stash, and a honey\n  That won't ask no questions but'll blast anybody\n  That's my kind of girl, kind of world I want to live in\n  Not a cell or a prison or in Hell's Armageddon\n  Just a little ghetto where my niggas control the middle\n  And know the riddles of life where others know only a little (uh-uh, uh, yeah, yo)\n\n  Been in rich places, sick places\n  See, my story six thousand, six hundred sixty-six pages\n  Wages, I rolled six aces (what?)\n  And at the same dice game, I caught six cases all over big faces\n  Now it's tipped laces, ready to dig faces\n  But the Bing, it ain't a bit spacious\n  Niggas loading up they rib cages, cats like to rip places\n  Bloody lip tasters, Cam is a big racist\n\n  But I stay important, big places\n  But the world know your girl though, I fuck her off a furlough\n  Should be up, hook me up, all your sales could be luck\n  Only question for these ducks is, \"Baby girl, could we fuck?\"\n  You the type that need a wife\n  Thought L-O-X told y'all the key to life, asshole\n  Yo, I don't play around, I lay it down, fuck around, I'll spray a round\n  Flip a biscuit, nigga, risk it, my ass, you can kick or kiss it (yo)\n\n  Ain't no niggas in the world you know thorough than this\n  Bust off and sit the hot barrel dead on your lips\n  Like two thirds of a brick, Paniero and 'Kiss\n  The crystal white fluffy parts that'll come back quick\n\n  See, the plan is to stash all, cash y'all's\n  The weed so strong, they gotta put it in glass jars\n  Niggas try to smoke me out then moke me out\n  'Cause the rims on my new joint be poking out\n\n  I'm about to have no feelings, shit is deep\n  Do they dance with the Devil when they sleep?\n  I wake up gripping the air, wishing to hear\n  Shit that they kick in your ear when your soul drift in the air\n\n  My gift is half-rotten, when I spit, it's a tear\n  That shit'll drop down my eye, I'm too tired to cry\n  And I ain't never seen a nigga that's too live to die\n  They say you get what you ask for, so get it 'cause you asked for it\n\n  A nigga ain't a thief, then he better have the cash for it\n  And we gon' be around 'til your body rot\n  And if the Feds brung us in, we'd get the same time Gotti got\n  Nigga\n\n  Yo, yo, ayo, there's two ways into the hood, one plain\n  The other smoking chronic like straight to the brain\n  Yo, let's get loose, Hennessy straight with tomato juice\n  Queens stallions, buy guns from the Italians\n\n  Now y'all niggas recognize medallions\n  I play the best hood, OT with Tim Westwood\n  Used to be on Section 8, now my section is good\n  Thugged out niggas, we eat as much as we could\n\n  And I don't give a fuck, what? Yo, I say my shit\n  And I don't give a fuck, what? You can save your shit\n  Y'all niggas like extra skin on my dick (uh-huh)\n  Listen to Bob Marley, y'all funny niggas like Steve Harvey\n\n  You fronting live with a weak army\n  I play the nice guy too and even smoke with you\n  But the realness, I ain't got no love for you\n  That's why I'll never do a song with you\n\n  Not even if your baby moms fucked the crew\n  And promised to give us head and swallow too\n  I still say no, no is no, no can though\n  Y'all niggas drinking Haterade, drinking my flow, yo\n\n  Thugged-Out\n  Real motherfucking shit right here (thug shit right here, motherfucker)\n  Motherfucking thug shit right here (thug shit, what?)\n  (Fuck is the deal?) What?\n  (What the fuck is the deal? What the fuck is the deal?)\n  (What? What? What?)\n\n  Thugged-Out Entertainment (Thugged-Out Entertainment)\n  Undertaiment (Undertaiment)\n  Fuck it, L-O-X, Ruff Ryders (L-O-X, Ryders), What?\n  (What? What? What? What? What?)\n  Terror Squad (Terror Squad)\n  This shit is fuckin' official right here\n"},{"id":19596192,"name":"Banned From TV (Featuring Nature, Big Punisher, Cam'ron And Styles And Jadakiss From The LOX)","trackName":"Banned From TV (Featuring Nature, Big Punisher, Cam'ron And Styles And Jadakiss From The LOX)","artistName":"Noreaga","albumName":"N.O.R.E.","duration":312.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"N.O.R.E the movie coming soon\nTimbaland, shut the fuck up\nTryna be out in '98, you know\nI'm tryna watch this movie, this the real shit\nShut the fuck up, '98, it's ours\n\nRegardless of rain or snow, sleet or hail\nI kick street tales, choking niggas like I'm Sprewell\nGolden State, holding your fate in the palm of my hand\nBlow you away like it's part of the plan\nI gotta call it like I see it, talk it like I be it\nWalking my walk, thugged out orthopedic\nCause I'm soon to be up, give me room watch me heat up\nNiggas try to stick me like Abdul Louima\nFollow the leader, make me go extra hard\nYo N.O.R.E. should I hold back or show the repertoire\nQuit at sixteen or throw in extra bars just for the non-believers\nI show them why it's so hard to reach us\nI get pussy with my father's features, puff heavily\nSee me at 6'1\", weigh a buck 70\nCatch me in spots y'all niggas never be\nPacked in like Green Bay, Harlem week to Queens day\nPerforming acapella, no DJ\n'98 Live, no replays, make it seem easy\nSo tell a friend to tell a friend\nThat it's them again, Nature, Noreaga, wild gremlins\n\nChampagne on the rocks, sporting a Fort Knox Lazarus\nShark salad with carrots, pork chops and applesauce\nTwin connection, disrespect watch your body cave in\nPump the shotty guaging, hit the shorty while he potty training\nI ain't playing, I'm truly the worst\nYou'll be the first to get his whole body fully reversed\nUzi ya hearse, leave you double-dead, I'm a bubble-head\nI never listen to nothing my mother said\nI hold niggas ransom for money like Johnny Handsome\nBeen soning niggas for so long, I think I got a grandson\nMy passion is money, a stash and a honey\nThat won't ask questions but will blast anybody\nThat's my kind of girl, kind of world I want to live in\nNot a cell or a prison or in Hell's Armageddon\nJust a little ghetto where my niggas control the middle\nWe know the riddles of life where others know only a little\n\nBeen in rich places, sick places\nSeen my story, 6, 666 pages\nWages, I rolled six aces and at the same dice games\nI caught six cases, all over big faces\nNow it's tipped laces, ready to dig faces\nBut the banger ain't a bit spacious\nNiggas loading up their rib cages, cats like the rib places\nBloody lip taste it, but Cam is a big racist\nBut I stay in import the pig places\nBut the world know the girl though, I fuck her off a furlough\nShe'll be up, hook me up, all your sales could be luck\nOnly question for these ducks is, \"Baby girl could we fuck?\"\nYou the type that need a wife\nThought L-O-X told y'all the key to life, asshole\nYo I don't play around, I lay it down, fuck around, I spray a round\nFlick a biscuit, nigga risk it, my ass you can kick or kiss it\n\nAin't no niggas in the world more thorough than this\nBust off and sit the hot barrel dead on your lips\nLike two thirds of a brick, (Paniero) and 'Kiss\nThe kiss the crystal white fluffy part that'll (come back quick\n(See the plan is to stash all) and cash y'all\n(The weed so strong), they gotta put it glass jars\nNiggas try to smoke me out the (moke me out)\nCause the rims on my new joint be poking out\n(I'm about to have no feelings, shit is deep)\nDo they dance with the Devil when they sleep\n(I wake up gripping the air, wishing to hear)\nShit that they kick in your ear when your soul drift in the air\n(My gift is half-rotten when I'm spitting some tears\nThat shit'll drop down my eye, I'm too tired to cry)\nAnd I ain't never seen a nigga that too live to die\n(They say you get what you ask for) So get it cause you asked for it\n(If a nigga ain't a thief) then he better have the cash for it\n(And we gonna be around till ya body rot)\nAnd if the Feds bring us in we get the same time Gotti got nigga\n\nThere's two ways into the hood, one plain\nThe other smoke chronic like straight to the brain\nLet's get loose, Hennessy straight with tomato juice\nQueens stallion, my guns, fully Italian\nNow y'all niggas recognize medallions\nI play the best hood, O-T with Tim Westwood\nUsed to be on Section 8, now my section is good\nThugged out niggas, we eat as much as we could\nAnd I don't give a fuck what, yo I save my shit\nAnd I don't give a fuck what, you can save your shit\nY'all niggas like extra skin on my dick\nListen to Bob Marley, y'all funny niggas like Steve Harvey\nFronting live with a weak army\nI play the nice guy too and even smoke with you\nBut the realness, I ain't got no love for you\nThat's why I never do a song with you\nNot even if your baby moms fucked the crew\nAnd promised to give us head and swallow too\nI still say low, no is no, no can do\nYa niggas drinking Haterade, drinking my flow\n\nYo, thug shit thug shit what what\nWhat the fuck is the deal, thugged out entertainment\nUntertainment\nL-o-x, Terror Squad, this shit is fuckin' official\n","syncedLyrics":"[00:02.88] N.O.R.E the movie coming soon\n[00:07.46] Timbaland, shut the fuck up\n[00:09.21] Tryna be out in '98, you know\n[00:11.01] I'm tryna watch this movie, this the real shit\n[00:13.99] Shut the fuck up, '98, it's ours\n[00:18.25] \n[00:20.33] Regardless of rain or snow, sleet or hail\n[00:23.49] I kick street tales, choking niggas like I'm Sprewell\n[00:25.94] Golden State, holding your fate in the palm of my hand\n[00:28.86] Blow you away like it's part of the plan\n[00:31.02] I gotta call it like I see it, talk it like I be it\n[00:33.85] Walking my walk, thugged out orthopedic\n[00:36.22] Cause I'm soon to be up, give me room watch me heat up\n[00:39.18] Niggas try to stick me like Abdul Louima\n[00:41.17] Follow the leader, make me go extra hard\n[00:43.66] Yo N.O.R.E. should I hold back or show the repertoire\n[00:46.34] Quit at sixteen or throw in extra bars just for the non-believers\n[00:49.58] I show them why it's so hard to reach us\n[00:51.83] I get pussy with my father's features, puff heavily\n[00:54.50] See me at 6'1\", weigh a buck 70\n[00:57.18] Catch me in spots y'all niggas never be\n[00:59.21] Packed in like Green Bay, Harlem week to Queens day\n[01:02.18] Performing acapella, no DJ\n[01:04.29] '98 Live, no replays, make it seem easy\n[01:07.66] So tell a friend to tell a friend\n[01:09.58] That it's them again, Nature, Noreaga, wild gremlins\n\n[01:13.17] Champagne on the rocks, sporting a Fort Knox Lazarus\n[01:15.43] Shark salad with carrots, pork chops and applesauce\n[01:18.02] Twin connection, disrespect watch your body cave in\n[01:20.95] Pump the shotty guaging, hit the shorty while he potty training\n[01:23.29] I ain't playing, I'm truly the worst\n[01:25.22] You'll be the first to get his whole body fully reversed\n[01:27.79] Uzi ya hearse, leave you double-dead, I'm a bubble-head\n[01:31.02] I never listen to nothing my mother said\n[01:33.17] I hold niggas ransom for money like Johnny Handsome\n[01:36.34] Been soning niggas for so long, I think I got a grandson\n[01:38.90] My passion is money, a stash and a honey\n[01:41.22] That won't ask questions but will blast anybody\n[01:43.74] That's my kind of girl, kind of world I want to live in\n[01:46.57] Not a cell or a prison or in Hell's Armageddon\n[01:49.03] Just a little ghetto where my niggas control the middle\n[01:51.62] We know the riddles of life where others know only a little\n\n[01:54.26] Been in rich places, sick places\n[01:55.97] Seen my story, 6, 666 pages\n[01:59.22] Wages, I rolled six aces and at the same dice games\n[02:02.66] I caught six cases, all over big faces\n[02:05.02] Now it's tipped laces, ready to dig faces\n[02:07.61] But the banger ain't a bit spacious\n[02:09.86] Niggas loading up their rib cages, cats like the rib places\n[02:12.65] Bloody lip taste it, but Cam is a big racist\n[02:15.34] But I stay in import the pig places\n[02:17.26] But the world know the girl though, I fuck her off a furlough\n[02:20.42] She'll be up, hook me up, all your sales could be luck\n[02:22.98] Only question for these ducks is, \"Baby girl could we fuck?\"\n[02:25.62] You the type that need a wife\n[02:27.06] Thought L-O-X told y'all the key to life, asshole\n[02:30.42] Yo I don't play around, I lay it down, fuck around, I spray a round\n[02:33.38] Flick a biscuit, nigga risk it, my ass you can kick or kiss it\n\n[02:36.25] Ain't no niggas in the world more thorough than this\n[02:38.49] Bust off and sit the hot barrel dead on your lips\n[02:40.82] Like two thirds of a brick, (Paniero) and 'Kiss\n[02:43.39] The kiss the crystal white fluffy part that'll (come back quick\n[02:46.09] (See the plan is to stash all) and cash y'all\n[02:49.18] (The weed so strong), they gotta put it glass jars\n[02:51.70] Niggas try to smoke me out the (moke me out)\n[02:54.06] Cause the rims on my new joint be poking out\n[02:56.49] (I'm about to have no feelings, shit is deep)\n[02:59.29] Do they dance with the Devil when they sleep\n[03:01.38] (I wake up gripping the air, wishing to hear)\n[03:04.05] Shit that they kick in your ear when your soul drift in the air\n[03:07.21] (My gift is half-rotten when I'm spitting some tears\n[03:09.54] That shit'll drop down my eye, I'm too tired to cry)\n[03:11.94] And I ain't never seen a nigga that too live to die\n[03:14.50] (They say you get what you ask for) So get it cause you asked for it\n[03:17.81] (If a nigga ain't a thief) then he better have the cash for it\n[03:20.42] (And we gonna be around till ya body rot)\n[03:22.34] And if the Feds bring us in we get the same time Gotti got nigga\n[03:26.68] \n[03:28.12] There's two ways into the hood, one plain\n[03:30.52] The other smoke chronic like straight to the brain\n[03:32.80] Let's get loose, Hennessy straight with tomato juice\n[03:35.00] Queens stallion, my guns, fully Italian\n[03:38.37] Now y'all niggas recognize medallions\n[03:40.55] I play the best hood, O-T with Tim Westwood\n[03:43.20] Used to be on Section 8, now my section is good\n[03:45.72] Thugged out niggas, we eat as much as we could\n[03:48.45] And I don't give a fuck what, yo I save my shit\n[03:51.08] And I don't give a fuck what, you can save your shit\n[03:53.52] Y'all niggas like extra skin on my dick\n[03:56.16] Listen to Bob Marley, y'all funny niggas like Steve Harvey\n[03:59.35] Fronting live with a weak army\n[04:01.40] I play the nice guy too and even smoke with you\n[04:04.01] But the realness, I ain't got no love for you\n[04:06.56] That's why I never do a song with you\n[04:09.24] Not even if your baby moms fucked the crew\n[04:11.68] And promised to give us head and swallow too\n[04:14.19] I still say low, no is no, no can do\n[04:17.36] Ya niggas drinking Haterade, drinking my flow\n\n[04:19.88] Yo, thug shit thug shit what what\n[04:25.80] What the fuck is the deal, thugged out entertainment\n[04:31.83] Untertainment\n[04:38.35] L-o-x, Terror Squad, this shit is fuckin' official\n[04:49.71] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Banned From TV (Featuring Nature, Big Punisher, Cam'ron And Styles And Jadakiss From The LOX)\n  artist: Noreaga\n  album: N.O.R.E.\n  duration_ms: 312000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: N.O.R.E the movie coming soon\n  start_ms: 2880\n  end_ms: 7460\n- text: Timbaland, shut the fuck up\n  start_ms: 7460\n  end_ms: 9210\n- text: Tryna be out in '98, you know\n  start_ms: 9210\n  end_ms: 11010\n- text: I'm tryna watch this movie, this the real shit\n  start_ms: 11010\n  end_ms: 13990\n- text: Shut the fuck up, '98, it's ours\n  start_ms: 13990\n  end_ms: 18250\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 18250\n  end_ms: 20330\n- text: Regardless of rain or snow, sleet or hail\n  start_ms: 20330\n  end_ms: 23490\n- text: I kick street tales, choking niggas like I'm Sprewell\n  start_ms: 23490\n  end_ms: 25940\n- text: Golden State, holding your fate in the palm of my hand\n  start_ms: 25940\n  end_ms: 28860\n- text: Blow you away like it's part of the plan\n  start_ms: 28860\n  end_ms: 31020\n- text: I gotta call it like I see it, talk it like I be it\n  start_ms: 31020\n  end_ms: 33850\n- text: Walking my walk, thugged out orthopedic\n  start_ms: 33850\n  end_ms: 36220\n- text: Cause I'm soon to be up, give me room watch me heat up\n  start_ms: 36220\n  end_ms: 39180\n- text: Niggas try to stick me like Abdul Louima\n  start_ms: 39180\n  end_ms: 41170\n- text: Follow the leader, make me go extra hard\n  start_ms: 41170\n  end_ms: 43660\n- text: Yo N.O.R.E. should I hold back or show the repertoire\n  start_ms: 43660\n  end_ms: 46340\n- text: Quit at sixteen or throw in extra bars just for the non-believers\n  start_ms: 46340\n  end_ms: 49580\n- text: I show them why it's so hard to reach us\n  start_ms: 49580\n  end_ms: 51830\n- text: I get pussy with my father's features, puff heavily\n  start_ms: 51830\n  end_ms: 54500\n- text: See me at 6'1\", weigh a buck 70\n  start_ms: 54500\n  end_ms: 57180\n- text: Catch me in spots y'all niggas never be\n  start_ms: 57180\n  end_ms: 59210\n- text: Packed in like Green Bay, Harlem week to Queens day\n  start_ms: 59210\n  end_ms: 62180\n- text: Performing acapella, no DJ\n  start_ms: 62180\n  end_ms: 64290\n- text: '''98 Live, no replays, make it seem easy'\n  start_ms: 64290\n  end_ms: 67660\n- text: So tell a friend to tell a friend\n  start_ms: 67660\n  end_ms: 69580\n- text: That it's them again, Nature, Noreaga, wild gremlins\n  start_ms: 69580\n  end_ms: 73170\n- text: Champagne on the rocks, sporting a Fort Knox Lazarus\n  start_ms: 73170\n  end_ms: 75430\n- text: Shark salad with carrots, pork chops and applesauce\n  start_ms: 75430\n  end_ms: 78020\n- text: Twin connection, disrespect watch your body cave in\n  start_ms: 78020\n  end_ms: 80950\n- text: Pump the shotty guaging, hit the shorty while he potty training\n  start_ms: 80950\n  end_ms: 83290\n- text: I ain't playing, I'm truly the worst\n  start_ms: 83290\n  end_ms: 85220\n- text: You'll be the first to get his whole body fully reversed\n  start_ms: 85220\n  end_ms: 87790\n- text: Uzi ya hearse, leave you double-dead, I'm a bubble-head\n  start_ms: 87790\n  end_ms: 91020\n- text: I never listen to nothing my mother said\n  start_ms: 91020\n  end_ms: 93170\n- text: I hold niggas ransom for money like Johnny Handsome\n  start_ms: 93170\n  end_ms: 96340\n- text: Been soning niggas for so long, I think I got a grandson\n  start_ms: 96340\n  end_ms: 98900\n- text: My passion is money, a stash and a honey\n  start_ms: 98900\n  end_ms: 101220\n- text: That won't ask questions but will blast anybody\n  start_ms: 101220\n  end_ms: 103740\n- text: That's my kind of girl, kind of world I want to live in\n  start_ms: 103740\n  end_ms: 106570\n- text: Not a cell or a prison or in Hell's Armageddon\n  start_ms: 106570\n  end_ms: 109030\n- text: Just a little ghetto where my niggas control the middle\n  start_ms: 109030\n  end_ms: 111620\n- text: We know the riddles of life where others know only a little\n  start_ms: 111620\n  end_ms: 114260\n- text: Been in rich places, sick places\n  start_ms: 114260\n  end_ms: 115970\n- text: Seen my story, 6, 666 pages\n  start_ms: 115970\n  end_ms: 119220\n- text: Wages, I rolled six aces and at the same dice games\n  start_ms: 119220\n  end_ms: 122660\n- text: I caught six cases, all over big faces\n  start_ms: 122660\n  end_ms: 125020\n- text: Now it's tipped laces, ready to dig faces\n  start_ms: 125020\n  end_ms: 127610\n- text: But the banger ain't a bit spacious\n  start_ms: 127610\n  end_ms: 129860\n- text: Niggas loading up their rib cages, cats like the rib places\n  start_ms: 129860\n  end_ms: 132650\n- text: Bloody lip taste it, but Cam is a big racist\n  start_ms: 132650\n  end_ms: 135340\n- text: But I stay in import the pig places\n  start_ms: 135340\n  end_ms: 137260\n- text: But the world know the girl though, I fuck her off a furlough\n  start_ms: 137260\n  end_ms: 140420\n- text: She'll be up, hook me up, all your sales could be luck\n  start_ms: 140420\n  end_ms: 142980\n- text: Only question for these ducks is, \"Baby girl could we fuck?\"\n  start_ms: 142980\n  end_ms: 145620\n- text: You the type that need a wife\n  start_ms: 145620\n  end_ms: 147060\n- text: Thought L-O-X told y'all the key to life, asshole\n  start_ms: 147060\n  end_ms: 150420\n- text: Yo I don't play around, I lay it down, fuck around, I spray a round\n  start_ms: 150420\n  end_ms: 153380\n- text: Flick a biscuit, nigga risk it, my ass you can kick or kiss it\n  start_ms: 153380\n  end_ms: 156250\n- text: Ain't no niggas in the world more thorough than this\n  start_ms: 156250\n  end_ms: 158490\n- text: Bust off and sit the hot barrel dead on your lips\n  start_ms: 158490\n  end_ms: 160820\n- text: Like two thirds of a brick, (Paniero) and 'Kiss\n  start_ms: 160820\n  end_ms: 163390\n- text: The kiss the crystal white fluffy part that'll (come back quick\n  start_ms: 163390\n  end_ms: 166090\n- text: (See the plan is to stash all) and cash y'all\n  start_ms: 166090\n  end_ms: 169180\n- text: (The weed so strong), they gotta put it glass jars\n  start_ms: 169180\n  end_ms: 171700\n- text: Niggas try to smoke me out the (moke me out)\n  start_ms: 171700\n  end_ms: 174060\n- text: Cause the rims on my new joint be poking out\n  start_ms: 174060\n  end_ms: 176490\n- text: (I'm about to have no feelings, shit is deep)\n  start_ms: 176490\n  end_ms: 179290\n- text: Do they dance with the Devil when they sleep\n  start_ms: 179290\n  end_ms: 181380\n- text: (I wake up gripping the air, wishing to hear)\n  start_ms: 181380\n  end_ms: 184050\n- text: Shit that they kick in your ear when your soul drift in the air\n  start_ms: 184050\n  end_ms: 187210\n- text: (My gift is half-rotten when I'm spitting some tears\n  start_ms: 187210\n  end_ms: 189540\n- text: That shit'll drop down my eye, I'm too tired to cry)\n  start_ms: 189540\n  end_ms: 191940\n- text: And I ain't never seen a nigga that too live to die\n  start_ms: 191940\n  end_ms: 194500\n- text: (They say you get what you ask for) So get it cause you asked for it\n  start_ms: 194500\n  end_ms: 197810\n- text: (If a nigga ain't a thief) then he better have the cash for it\n  start_ms: 197810\n  end_ms: 200420\n- text: (And we gonna be around till ya body rot)\n  start_ms: 200420\n  end_ms: 202340\n- text: And if the Feds bring us in we get the same time Gotti got nigga\n  start_ms: 202340\n  end_ms: 206680\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 206680\n  end_ms: 208120\n- text: There's two ways into the hood, one plain\n  start_ms: 208120\n  end_ms: 210520\n- text: The other smoke chronic like straight to the brain\n  start_ms: 210520\n  end_ms: 212800\n- text: Let's get loose, Hennessy straight with tomato juice\n  start_ms: 212800\n  end_ms: 215000\n- text: Queens stallion, my guns, fully Italian\n  start_ms: 215000\n  end_ms: 218370\n- text: Now y'all niggas recognize medallions\n  start_ms: 218370\n  end_ms: 220550\n- text: I play the best hood, O-T with Tim Westwood\n  start_ms: 220550\n  end_ms: 223200\n- text: Used to be on Section 8, now my section is good\n  start_ms: 223200\n  end_ms: 225720\n- text: Thugged out niggas, we eat as much as we could\n  start_ms: 225720\n  end_ms: 228450\n- text: And I don't give a fuck what, yo I save my shit\n  start_ms: 228450\n  end_ms: 231080\n- text: And I don't give a fuck what, you can save your shit\n  start_ms: 231080\n  end_ms: 233520\n- text: Y'all niggas like extra skin on my dick\n  start_ms: 233520\n  end_ms: 236160\n- text: Listen to Bob Marley, y'all funny niggas like Steve Harvey\n  start_ms: 236160\n  end_ms: 239350\n- text: Fronting live with a weak army\n  start_ms: 239350\n  end_ms: 241400\n- text: I play the nice guy too and even smoke with you\n  start_ms: 241400\n  end_ms: 244010\n- text: But the realness, I ain't got no love for you\n  start_ms: 244010\n  end_ms: 246560\n- text: That's why I never do a song with you\n  start_ms: 246560\n  end_ms: 249240\n- text: Not even if your baby moms fucked the crew\n  start_ms: 249240\n  end_ms: 251680\n- text: And promised to give us head and swallow too\n  start_ms: 251680\n  end_ms: 254190\n- text: I still say low, no is no, no can do\n  start_ms: 254190\n  end_ms: 257360\n- text: Ya niggas drinking Haterade, drinking my flow\n  start_ms: 257360\n  end_ms: 259880\n- text: Yo, thug shit thug shit what what\n  start_ms: 259880\n  end_ms: 265800\n- text: What the fuck is the deal, thugged out entertainment\n  start_ms: 265800\n  end_ms: 271830\n- text: Untertainment\n  start_ms: 271830\n  end_ms: 278350\n- text: L-o-x, Terror Squad, this shit is fuckin' official\n  start_ms: 278350\n  end_ms: 289710\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 289710\nplain: |\n  N.O.R.E the movie coming soon\n  Timbaland, shut the fuck up\n  Tryna be out in '98, you know\n  I'm tryna watch this movie, this the real shit\n  Shut the fuck up, '98, it's ours\n\n  Regardless of rain or snow, sleet or hail\n  I kick street tales, choking niggas like I'm Sprewell\n  Golden State, holding your fate in the palm of my hand\n  Blow you away like it's part of the plan\n  I gotta call it like I see it, talk it like I be it\n  Walking my walk, thugged out orthopedic\n  Cause I'm soon to be up, give me room watch me heat up\n  Niggas try to stick me like Abdul Louima\n  Follow the leader, make me go extra hard\n  Yo N.O.R.E. should I hold back or show the repertoire\n  Quit at sixteen or throw in extra bars just for the non-believers\n  I show them why it's so hard to reach us\n  I get pussy with my father's features, puff heavily\n  See me at 6'1\", weigh a buck 70\n  Catch me in spots y'all niggas never be\n  Packed in like Green Bay, Harlem week to Queens day\n  Performing acapella, no DJ\n  '98 Live, no replays, make it seem easy\n  So tell a friend to tell a friend\n  That it's them again, Nature, Noreaga, wild gremlins\n\n  Champagne on the rocks, sporting a Fort Knox Lazarus\n  Shark salad with carrots, pork chops and applesauce\n  Twin connection, disrespect watch your body cave in\n  Pump the shotty guaging, hit the shorty while he potty training\n  I ain't playing, I'm truly the worst\n  You'll be the first to get his whole body fully reversed\n  Uzi ya hearse, leave you double-dead, I'm a bubble-head\n  I never listen to nothing my mother said\n  I hold niggas ransom for money like Johnny Handsome\n  Been soning niggas for so long, I think I got a grandson\n  My passion is money, a stash and a honey\n  That won't ask questions but will blast anybody\n  That's my kind of girl, kind of world I want to live in\n  Not a cell or a prison or in Hell's Armageddon\n  Just a little ghetto where my niggas control the middle\n  We know the riddles of life where others know only a little\n\n  Been in rich places, sick places\n  Seen my story, 6, 666 pages\n  Wages, I rolled six aces and at the same dice games\n  I caught six cases, all over big faces\n  Now it's tipped laces, ready to dig faces\n  But the banger ain't a bit spacious\n  Niggas loading up their rib cages, cats like the rib places\n  Bloody lip taste it, but Cam is a big racist\n  But I stay in import the pig places\n  But the world know the girl though, I fuck her off a furlough\n  She'll be up, hook me up, all your sales could be luck\n  Only question for these ducks is, \"Baby girl could we fuck?\"\n  You the type that need a wife\n  Thought L-O-X told y'all the key to life, asshole\n  Yo I don't play around, I lay it down, fuck around, I spray a round\n  Flick a biscuit, nigga risk it, my ass you can kick or kiss it\n\n  Ain't no niggas in the world more thorough than this\n  Bust off and sit the hot barrel dead on your lips\n  Like two thirds of a brick, (Paniero) and 'Kiss\n  The kiss the crystal white fluffy part that'll (come back quick\n  (See the plan is to stash all) and cash y'all\n  (The weed so strong), they gotta put it glass jars\n  Niggas try to smoke me out the (moke me out)\n  Cause the rims on my new joint be poking out\n  (I'm about to have no feelings, shit is deep)\n  Do they dance with the Devil when they sleep\n  (I wake up gripping the air, wishing to hear)\n  Shit that they kick in your ear when your soul drift in the air\n  (My gift is half-rotten when I'm spitting some tears\n  That shit'll drop down my eye, I'm too tired to cry)\n  And I ain't never seen a nigga that too live to die\n  (They say you get what you ask for) So get it cause you asked for it\n  (If a nigga ain't a thief) then he better have the cash for it\n  (And we gonna be around till ya body rot)\n  And if the Feds bring us in we get the same time Gotti got nigga\n\n  There's two ways into the hood, one plain\n  The other smoke chronic like straight to the brain\n  Let's get loose, Hennessy straight with tomato juice\n  Queens stallion, my guns, fully Italian\n  Now y'all niggas recognize medallions\n  I play the best hood, O-T with Tim Westwood\n  Used to be on Section 8, now my section is good\n  Thugged out niggas, we eat as much as we could\n  And I don't give a fuck what, yo I save my shit\n  And I don't give a fuck what, you can save your shit\n  Y'all niggas like extra skin on my dick\n  Listen to Bob Marley, y'all funny niggas like Steve Harvey\n  Fronting live with a weak army\n  I play the nice guy too and even smoke with you\n  But the realness, I ain't got no love for you\n  That's why I never do a song with you\n  Not even if your baby moms fucked the crew\n  And promised to give us head and swallow too\n  I still say low, no is no, no can do\n  Ya niggas drinking Haterade, drinking my flow\n\n  Yo, thug shit thug shit what what\n  What the fuck is the deal, thugged out entertainment\n  Untertainment\n  L-o-x, Terror Squad, this shit is fuckin' official\n"},{"id":34993258,"name":"Banned From TV","trackName":"Banned From TV","artistName":"N.O.R.E. feat. Big Pun, Cam'ron, Jadakiss, Nature & Styles P","albumName":"The Legacy: The Best of Big Pun","duration":259.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"N.O.R.E, The Movement (c'mon), comin' soon\n(What? Shut the fuck up)\n(Trying to watch this movie)\nYo, Jungle (shut the fuck up)\n'98, it's ours (yeah)\n\nAyo, ayo, regardless of rain or snow, sleet or hail\nI kick street tales, choking niggas like I'm Sprewell\nGolden State, holding your fate in the palm of my hand\nBlow you away like it's part of the plan\n\nI gotta call it like I see it, talk it like I be it\nWalking my walk, thugged out orthopedic\n'Cause I'm soon to be up, give me room, watch me heat up\nNiggas try to stick me like Abner Louima\n\nFollow the leader, make me go extra hard\nYo, N.O.R.E., should I hold back or show the repertoire?\nQuit at 16 or throw in extra bars just for the non-believers?\nI show 'em why it's so hard to reach us (why?)\n\nI get pussy with my father's features, puff heavily\nSee me at six-one, weigh a buck 70\nCatch me in spots y'all niggas never be\nPacked in (pack it in) like Green Bay, Harlem week to Queens day\n\nPerforming acapella, no DJ\n'98 live, no replays (how we do it?) Make it seem easy\nSo tell a friend to tell a friend that it's them again\nNature, Noreaga, wild gremlins (yo, yo, yo)\n\nChampagne on the rocks, sporting a Fort Knox Lazarus\nShark salad with carrots, pork chops and applesauce\nTwin connection, disrespect and watch your body cave in\nPump the shotty guage in, hit the shorty while he potty training\nI ain't playing, I'm truly the worst\nHe'll be the first to get his whole body fully reversed\nUzi your hearse, leave you double-dead, I'm a bubble-head\nI never listened to nothing my mother said\n\nAyo, I hold niggas ransom for money like Johnny Handsome\nBeen soning niggas so long, I think I got a grandson\nMy passion is money, a stash, and a honey\nThat won't ask no questions but'll blast anybody\nThat's my kind of girl, kind of world I want to live in\nNot a cell or a prison or in Hell's Armageddon\nJust a little ghetto where my niggas control the middle\nAnd know the riddles of life where others know only a little (uh-uh, uh, yeah, yo)\n\nBeen in rich places, sick places\nSee, my story six thousand, six hundred sixty-six pages\nWages, I rolled six aces (what?)\nAnd at the same dice game, I caught six cases all over big faces\nNow it's tipped laces, ready to dig faces\nBut the Bing, it ain't a bit spacious\nNiggas loading up they rib cages, cats like to rip places\nBloody lip tasters, Cam is a big racist\n\nBut I stay important, big places\nBut the world know your girl though, I fuck her off a furlough\nShould be up, hook me up, all your sales could be luck\nOnly question for these ducks is, \"Baby girl, could we fuck?\"\nYou the type that need a wife\nThought L-O-X told y'all the key to life, asshole\nYo, I don't play around, I lay it down, fuck around, I'll spray a round\nFlip a biscuit, nigga, risk it, my ass, you can kick or kiss it (yo)\n\nAin't no niggas in the world you know thorough than this\nBust off and sit the hot barrel dead on your lips\nLike two thirds of a brick, Paniero and 'Kiss\nThe crystal white fluffy parts that'll come back quick\n\nSee, the plan is to stash all, cash y'all's\nThe weed so strong, they gotta put it in glass jars\nNiggas try to smoke me out then moke me out\n'Cause the rims on my new joint be poking out\n\nI'm about to have no feelings, shit is deep\nDo they dance with the Devil when they sleep?\nI wake up gripping the air, wishing to hear\nShit that they kick in your ear when your soul drift in the air\n\nMy gift is half-rotten, when I spit, it's a tear\nThat shit'll drop down my eye, I'm too tired to cry\nAnd I ain't never seen a nigga that's too live to die\nThey say you get what you ask for, so get it 'cause you asked for it\n\nA nigga ain't a thief, then he better have the cash for it\nAnd we gon' be around 'til your body rot\nAnd if the Feds brung us in, we'd get the same time Gotti got\nNigga\n\nYo, yo, ayo, there's two ways into the hood, one plain\nThe other smoking chronic like straight to the brain\nYo, let's get loose, Hennessy straight with tomato juice\nQueens stallions, buy guns from the Italians\n\nNow y'all niggas recognize medallions\nI play the best hood, OT with Tim Westwood\nUsed to be on Section 8, now my section is good\nThugged out niggas, we eat as much as we could\n\nAnd I don't give a fuck, what? Yo, I say my shit\nAnd I don't give a fuck, what? You can save your shit\nY'all niggas like extra skin on my dick (uh-huh)\nListen to Bob Marley, y'all funny niggas like Steve Harvey\n\nYou fronting live with a weak army\nI play the nice guy too and even smoke with you\nBut the realness, I ain't got no love for you\nThat's why I'll never do a song with you\n\nNot even if your baby moms fucked the crew\nAnd promised to give us head and swallow too\nI still say no, no is no, no can though\nY'all niggas drinking Haterade, drinking my flow, yo\n\nThugged-Out\nReal motherfucking shit right here (thug shit right here, motherfucker)\nMotherfucking thug shit right here (thug shit, what?)\n(Fuck is the deal?) What?\n(What the fuck is the deal? What the fuck is the deal?)\n(What? What? What?)\n\nThugged-Out Entertainment (Thugged-Out Entertainment)\nUndertaiment (Undertaiment)\nFuck it, L-O-X, Ruff Ryders (L-O-X, Ryders), What?\n(What? What? What? What? What?)\nTerror Squad (Terror Squad)\nThis shit is fuckin' official right here","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Banned From TV\n  artist: N.O.R.E. feat. Big Pun, Cam'ron, Jadakiss, Nature & Styles P\n  album: 'The Legacy: The Best of Big Pun'\n  duration_ms: 259000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  N.O.R.E, The Movement (c'mon), comin' soon\n  (What? Shut the fuck up)\n  (Trying to watch this movie)\n  Yo, Jungle (shut the fuck up)\n  '98, it's ours (yeah)\n\n  Ayo, ayo, regardless of rain or snow, sleet or hail\n  I kick street tales, choking niggas like I'm Sprewell\n  Golden State, holding your fate in the palm of my hand\n  Blow you away like it's part of the plan\n\n  I gotta call it like I see it, talk it like I be it\n  Walking my walk, thugged out orthopedic\n  'Cause I'm soon to be up, give me room, watch me heat up\n  Niggas try to stick me like Abner Louima\n\n  Follow the leader, make me go extra hard\n  Yo, N.O.R.E., should I hold back or show the repertoire?\n  Quit at 16 or throw in extra bars just for the non-believers?\n  I show 'em why it's so hard to reach us (why?)\n\n  I get pussy with my father's features, puff heavily\n  See me at six-one, weigh a buck 70\n  Catch me in spots y'all niggas never be\n  Packed in (pack it in) like Green Bay, Harlem week to Queens day\n\n  Performing acapella, no DJ\n  '98 live, no replays (how we do it?) Make it seem easy\n  So tell a friend to tell a friend that it's them again\n  Nature, Noreaga, wild gremlins (yo, yo, yo)\n\n  Champagne on the rocks, sporting a Fort Knox Lazarus\n  Shark salad with carrots, pork chops and applesauce\n  Twin connection, disrespect and watch your body cave in\n  Pump the shotty guage in, hit the shorty while he potty training\n  I ain't playing, I'm truly the worst\n  He'll be the first to get his whole body fully reversed\n  Uzi your hearse, leave you double-dead, I'm a bubble-head\n  I never listened to nothing my mother said\n\n  Ayo, I hold niggas ransom for money like Johnny Handsome\n  Been soning niggas so long, I think I got a grandson\n  My passion is money, a stash, and a honey\n  That won't ask no questions but'll blast anybody\n  That's my kind of girl, kind of world I want to live in\n  Not a cell or a prison or in Hell's Armageddon\n  Just a little ghetto where my niggas control the middle\n  And know the riddles of life where others know only a little (uh-uh, uh, yeah, yo)\n\n  Been in rich places, sick places\n  See, my story six thousand, six hundred sixty-six pages\n  Wages, I rolled six aces (what?)\n  And at the same dice game, I caught six cases all over big faces\n  Now it's tipped laces, ready to dig faces\n  But the Bing, it ain't a bit spacious\n  Niggas loading up they rib cages, cats like to rip places\n  Bloody lip tasters, Cam is a big racist\n\n  But I stay important, big places\n  But the world know your girl though, I fuck her off a furlough\n  Should be up, hook me up, all your sales could be luck\n  Only question for these ducks is, \"Baby girl, could we fuck?\"\n  You the type that need a wife\n  Thought L-O-X told y'all the key to life, asshole\n  Yo, I don't play around, I lay it down, fuck around, I'll spray a round\n  Flip a biscuit, nigga, risk it, my ass, you can kick or kiss it (yo)\n\n  Ain't no niggas in the world you know thorough than this\n  Bust off and sit the hot barrel dead on your lips\n  Like two thirds of a brick, Paniero and 'Kiss\n  The crystal white fluffy parts that'll come back quick\n\n  See, the plan is to stash all, cash y'all's\n  The weed so strong, they gotta put it in glass jars\n  Niggas try to smoke me out then moke me out\n  'Cause the rims on my new joint be poking out\n\n  I'm about to have no feelings, shit is deep\n  Do they dance with the Devil when they sleep?\n  I wake up gripping the air, wishing to hear\n  Shit that they kick in your ear when your soul drift in the air\n\n  My gift is half-rotten, when I spit, it's a tear\n  That shit'll drop down my eye, I'm too tired to cry\n  And I ain't never seen a nigga that's too live to die\n  They say you get what you ask for, so get it 'cause you asked for it\n\n  A nigga ain't a thief, then he better have the cash for it\n  And we gon' be around 'til your body rot\n  And if the Feds brung us in, we'd get the same time Gotti got\n  Nigga\n\n  Yo, yo, ayo, there's two ways into the hood, one plain\n  The other smoking chronic like straight to the brain\n  Yo, let's get loose, Hennessy straight with tomato juice\n  Queens stallions, buy guns from the Italians\n\n  Now y'all niggas recognize medallions\n  I play the best hood, OT with Tim Westwood\n  Used to be on Section 8, now my section is good\n  Thugged out niggas, we eat as much as we could\n\n  And I don't give a fuck, what? Yo, I say my shit\n  And I don't give a fuck, what? You can save your shit\n  Y'all niggas like extra skin on my dick (uh-huh)\n  Listen to Bob Marley, y'all funny niggas like Steve Harvey\n\n  You fronting live with a weak army\n  I play the nice guy too and even smoke with you\n  But the realness, I ain't got no love for you\n  That's why I'll never do a song with you\n\n  Not even if your baby moms fucked the crew\n  And promised to give us head and swallow too\n  I still say no, no is no, no can though\n  Y'all niggas drinking Haterade, drinking my flow, yo\n\n  Thugged-Out\n  Real motherfucking shit right here (thug shit right here, motherfucker)\n  Motherfucking thug shit right here (thug shit, what?)\n  (Fuck is the deal?) What?\n  (What the fuck is the deal? What the fuck is the deal?)\n  (What? What? What?)\n\n  Thugged-Out Entertainment (Thugged-Out Entertainment)\n  Undertaiment (Undertaiment)\n  Fuck it, L-O-X, Ruff Ryders (L-O-X, Ryders), What?\n  (What? What? What? What? What?)\n  Terror Squad (Terror Squad)\n  This shit is fuckin' official right here\n"}]