[{"id":18097454,"name":"Flags","trackName":"Flags","artistName":"Naughty by Nature","albumName":"Anthem Inc.","duration":213.5019749,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Mama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad\nCold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back\nSo I rep my hood, my city, my borough, thorougly\nThat's all we have\n\nFather if you still listening, we hope our prayers make it up to heaven\nIf we fall then we're not forgotten don't let our lil' brothers end up like we did\nLet them grow up and get a job\nDon't let them grow up behind bars, trying to be hard\nOh, Father can you swiffen my feet\nRepping the wrong colour on the wrong street with no heat\nRocking hickies and truckers, bandannas my brothers\nMy haters or lovers we still got each other\nWe twist our hands up and pull our pants up\nWalk this way throw your flag and your setup\n\nMama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad\nCold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back\nSo I rep my hood, my city, my borough, my family thorougly\nThat's all we have\nYou gotta cook the beef or you don't eat\nThat's why we fly our flags\n\nI heard you mob and you're moody, you jacking for jewellery\nYou banging and beasting with your tats and your toolies\nBanging for bounty you're too young for the nineties\nAre you dumping with the G-Reps or jumping in the county\nShooting by the roof and scraping is what's happening\nNiggas real and 'bout it so and they cracking\nIf you going out tonight get your pistol and your rifle\nPray to the father and sell your soul to the cycle\nYou coming nigga, listen no bouncing and no bitching\nCooking by the kitchen, flags and finger flipping\nLiving without growing, killing without blowing\nThis gang is a gun it's either given or chosen\nTrying to get the trigger strapped, trying to get these niggas back\nWorst part of the deal it won't help bring our nigga back\nTell your babies that you love her, kiss your mama before you leave her\nHug her like you need her, cause it might be the last time you might see her\n\nThe streets are so slick, they're greasy, as the needy feed the needy\nEasy to murder if you're hungry or greedy, gang sets in grafitti\nI mean, we mean like Eeedie, I mean, I mean I finna' a track a treaty\nTake my warrants to Tahiti\nThrow up your flags like soccer, nothing but war on TV\nR.I.P Appachi up in heaven in a platinum TP\nAggressive is the message, No lessons without the effort\nBang bang live by the gun, dye by the gun, it's a flag thing","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Flags\n  artist: Naughty by Nature\n  album: Anthem Inc.\n  duration_ms: 213502\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Mama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad\n  Cold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back\n  So I rep my hood, my city, my borough, thorougly\n  That's all we have\n\n  Father if you still listening, we hope our prayers make it up to heaven\n  If we fall then we're not forgotten don't let our lil' brothers end up like we did\n  Let them grow up and get a job\n  Don't let them grow up behind bars, trying to be hard\n  Oh, Father can you swiffen my feet\n  Repping the wrong colour on the wrong street with no heat\n  Rocking hickies and truckers, bandannas my brothers\n  My haters or lovers we still got each other\n  We twist our hands up and pull our pants up\n  Walk this way throw your flag and your setup\n\n  Mama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad\n  Cold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back\n  So I rep my hood, my city, my borough, my family thorougly\n  That's all we have\n  You gotta cook the beef or you don't eat\n  That's why we fly our flags\n\n  I heard you mob and you're moody, you jacking for jewellery\n  You banging and beasting with your tats and your toolies\n  Banging for bounty you're too young for the nineties\n  Are you dumping with the G-Reps or jumping in the county\n  Shooting by the roof and scraping is what's happening\n  Niggas real and 'bout it so and they cracking\n  If you going out tonight get your pistol and your rifle\n  Pray to the father and sell your soul to the cycle\n  You coming nigga, listen no bouncing and no bitching\n  Cooking by the kitchen, flags and finger flipping\n  Living without growing, killing without blowing\n  This gang is a gun it's either given or chosen\n  Trying to get the trigger strapped, trying to get these niggas back\n  Worst part of the deal it won't help bring our nigga back\n  Tell your babies that you love her, kiss your mama before you leave her\n  Hug her like you need her, cause it might be the last time you might see her\n\n  The streets are so slick, they're greasy, as the needy feed the needy\n  Easy to murder if you're hungry or greedy, gang sets in grafitti\n  I mean, we mean like Eeedie, I mean, I mean I finna' a track a treaty\n  Take my warrants to Tahiti\n  Throw up your flags like soccer, nothing but war on TV\n  R.I.P Appachi up in heaven in a platinum TP\n  Aggressive is the message, No lessons without the effort\n  Bang bang live by the gun, dye by the gun, it's a flag thing\n"},{"id":17667063,"name":"Flags","trackName":"Flags","artistName":"Naughty by Nature","albumName":"Anthem Inc.","duration":211.435102,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Mama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad\nCold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back\nSo I rep my hood, my city, my borough, thorougly\nThat's all we have\n\nFather if you still listening, we hope our prayers make it up to heaven\nIf we fall then we're not forgotten don't let our lil' brothers end up like we did\nLet them grow up and get a job\nDon't let them grow up behind bars, trying to be hard\nOh, Father can you swiffen my feet\nRepping the wrong colour on the wrong street with no heat\nRocking hickies and truckers, bandannas my brothers\nMy haters or lovers we still got each other\nWe twist our hands up and pull our pants up\nWalk this way throw your flag and your setup\n\nMama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad\nCold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back\nSo I rep my hood, my city, my borough, my family thorougly\nThat's all we have\nYou gotta cook the beef or you don't eat\nThat's why we fly our flags\n\nI heard you mob and you're moody, you jacking for jewellery\nYou banging and beasting with your tats and your toolies\nBanging for bounty you're too young for the nineties\nAre you dumping with the G-Reps or jumping in the county\nShooting by the roof and scraping is what's happening\nNiggas real and 'bout it so and they cracking\nIf you going out tonight get your pistol and your rifle\nPray to the father and sell your soul to the cycle\nYou coming nigga, listen no bouncing and no bitching\nCooking by the kitchen, flags and finger flipping\nLiving without growing, killing without blowing\nThis gang is a gun it's either given or chosen\nTrying to get the trigger strapped, trying to get these niggas back\nWorst part of the deal it won't help bring our nigga back\nTell your babies that you love her, kiss your mama before you leave her\nHug her like you need her, cause it might be the last time you might see her\n\nThe streets are so slick, they're greasy, as the needy feed the needy\nEasy to murder if you're hungry or greedy, gang sets in grafitti\nI mean, we mean like Eeedie, I mean, I mean I finna' a track a treaty\nTake my warrants to Tahiti\nThrow up your flags like soccer, nothing but war on TV\nR.I.P Appachi up in heaven in a platinum TP\nAggressive is the message, No lessons without the effort\nBang bang live by the gun, dye by the gun, it's a flag thing","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Flags\n  artist: Naughty by Nature\n  album: Anthem Inc.\n  duration_ms: 211435\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Mama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad\n  Cold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back\n  So I rep my hood, my city, my borough, thorougly\n  That's all we have\n\n  Father if you still listening, we hope our prayers make it up to heaven\n  If we fall then we're not forgotten don't let our lil' brothers end up like we did\n  Let them grow up and get a job\n  Don't let them grow up behind bars, trying to be hard\n  Oh, Father can you swiffen my feet\n  Repping the wrong colour on the wrong street with no heat\n  Rocking hickies and truckers, bandannas my brothers\n  My haters or lovers we still got each other\n  We twist our hands up and pull our pants up\n  Walk this way throw your flag and your setup\n\n  Mama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad\n  Cold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back\n  So I rep my hood, my city, my borough, my family thorougly\n  That's all we have\n  You gotta cook the beef or you don't eat\n  That's why we fly our flags\n\n  I heard you mob and you're moody, you jacking for jewellery\n  You banging and beasting with your tats and your toolies\n  Banging for bounty you're too young for the nineties\n  Are you dumping with the G-Reps or jumping in the county\n  Shooting by the roof and scraping is what's happening\n  Niggas real and 'bout it so and they cracking\n  If you going out tonight get your pistol and your rifle\n  Pray to the father and sell your soul to the cycle\n  You coming nigga, listen no bouncing and no bitching\n  Cooking by the kitchen, flags and finger flipping\n  Living without growing, killing without blowing\n  This gang is a gun it's either given or chosen\n  Trying to get the trigger strapped, trying to get these niggas back\n  Worst part of the deal it won't help bring our nigga back\n  Tell your babies that you love her, kiss your mama before you leave her\n  Hug her like you need her, cause it might be the last time you might see her\n\n  The streets are so slick, they're greasy, as the needy feed the needy\n  Easy to murder if you're hungry or greedy, gang sets in grafitti\n  I mean, we mean like Eeedie, I mean, I mean I finna' a track a treaty\n  Take my warrants to Tahiti\n  Throw up your flags like soccer, nothing but war on TV\n  R.I.P Appachi up in heaven in a platinum TP\n  Aggressive is the message, No lessons without the effort\n  Bang bang live by the gun, dye by the gun, it's a flag thing\n"},{"id":23608290,"name":"Flags","trackName":"Flags","artistName":"Naughty By Nature","albumName":"German Top 40  Black Charts 11.04.2011","duration":247.3861376,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Mama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad\nCold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back\nSo I rep my hood, my city, my borough, thorougly\nThat's all we have\n\nFather if you still listening, we hope our prayers make it up to heaven\nIf we fall then we're not forgotten don't let our lil' brothers end up like we did\nLet them grow up and get a job\nDon't let them grow up behind bars, trying to be hard\nOh, Father can you swiffen my feet\nRepping the wrong colour on the wrong street with no heat\nRocking hickies and truckers, bandannas my brothers\nMy haters or lovers we still got each other\nWe twist our hands up and pull our pants up\nWalk this way throw your flag and your setup\n\nMama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad\nCold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back\nSo I rep my hood, my city, my borough, my family thorougly\nThat's all we have\nYou gotta cook the beef or you don't eat\nThat's why we fly our flags\n\nI heard you mob and you're moody, you jacking for jewellery\nYou banging and beasting with your tats and your toolies\nBanging for bounty you're too young for the nineties\nAre you dumping with the G-Reps or jumping in the county\nShooting by the roof and scraping is what's happening\nNiggas real and 'bout it so and they cracking\nIf you going out tonight get your pistol and your rifle\nPray to the father and sell your soul to the cycle\nYou coming nigga, listen no bouncing and no bitching\nCooking by the kitchen, flags and finger flipping\nLiving without growing, killing without blowing\nThis gang is a gun it's either given or chosen\nTrying to get the trigger strapped, trying to get these niggas back\nWorst part of the deal it won't help bring our nigga back\nTell your babies that you love her, kiss your mama before you leave her\nHug her like you need her, cause it might be the last time you might see her\n\nThe streets are so slick, they're greasy, as the needy feed the needy\nEasy to murder if you're hungry or greedy, gang sets in grafitti\nI mean, we mean like Eeedie, I mean, I mean I finna' a track a treaty\nTake my warrants to Tahiti\nThrow up your flags like soccer, nothing but war on TV\nR.I.P Appachi up in heaven in a platinum TP\nAggressive is the message, No lessons without the effort\nBang bang live by the gun, dye by the gun, it's a flag thing","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Flags\n  artist: Naughty By Nature\n  album: German Top 40  Black Charts 11.04.2011\n  duration_ms: 247386\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Mama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad\n  Cold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back\n  So I rep my hood, my city, my borough, thorougly\n  That's all we have\n\n  Father if you still listening, we hope our prayers make it up to heaven\n  If we fall then we're not forgotten don't let our lil' brothers end up like we did\n  Let them grow up and get a job\n  Don't let them grow up behind bars, trying to be hard\n  Oh, Father can you swiffen my feet\n  Repping the wrong colour on the wrong street with no heat\n  Rocking hickies and truckers, bandannas my brothers\n  My haters or lovers we still got each other\n  We twist our hands up and pull our pants up\n  Walk this way throw your flag and your setup\n\n  Mama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad\n  Cold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back\n  So I rep my hood, my city, my borough, my family thorougly\n  That's all we have\n  You gotta cook the beef or you don't eat\n  That's why we fly our flags\n\n  I heard you mob and you're moody, you jacking for jewellery\n  You banging and beasting with your tats and your toolies\n  Banging for bounty you're too young for the nineties\n  Are you dumping with the G-Reps or jumping in the county\n  Shooting by the roof and scraping is what's happening\n  Niggas real and 'bout it so and they cracking\n  If you going out tonight get your pistol and your rifle\n  Pray to the father and sell your soul to the cycle\n  You coming nigga, listen no bouncing and no bitching\n  Cooking by the kitchen, flags and finger flipping\n  Living without growing, killing without blowing\n  This gang is a gun it's either given or chosen\n  Trying to get the trigger strapped, trying to get these niggas back\n  Worst part of the deal it won't help bring our nigga back\n  Tell your babies that you love her, kiss your mama before you leave her\n  Hug her like you need her, cause it might be the last time you might see her\n\n  The streets are so slick, they're greasy, as the needy feed the needy\n  Easy to murder if you're hungry or greedy, gang sets in grafitti\n  I mean, we mean like Eeedie, I mean, I mean I finna' a track a treaty\n  Take my warrants to Tahiti\n  Throw up your flags like soccer, nothing but war on TV\n  R.I.P Appachi up in heaven in a platinum TP\n  Aggressive is the message, No lessons without the effort\n  Bang bang live by the gun, dye by the gun, it's a flag thing\n"},{"id":6217977,"name":"Flags (feat. Balewa Muhammad)","trackName":"Flags (feat. Balewa Muhammad)","artistName":"Naughty By Nature","albumName":"Anthem Inc.","duration":211.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Mama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad\nCold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back\nSo I rep my hood, my city, my borough, thorougly\nThat's all we have\n\nFather if you still listening, we hope our prayers make it up to heaven,\nIf we fall then we're not forgotten don't let our lil' brothers end up like we did\nLet them grow up and get a job\nDon't let them grow up behind bars, trying to be hard\nOh, Father can you swiffen my feet\nRepping the wrong colour on the wrong street with no heat\nRocking hickies and truckers, bandannas my brothers\nMy haters or lovers we still got each other\nWe twist our hands up and pull our pants up\nWalk this way throw your flag and your setup\n\nMama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad\nCold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back\nSo I rep my hood, my city, my borough, my family thorougly\nThat's all we have\nYou gotta cook the beef or you don't eat\nThat's why we fly our flags\n\nI heard you mob and you're moody, you jacking for jewellery\nYou banging and beasting with your tats and your toolies\nBanging for bounty you're too young for the nineties,\nAre you dumping with the G-Reps or jumping in the county\nShooting by the roof and scraping is what's happening,\nNiggas real and 'bout it so [Gun Onomatopoeia] and they cracking\nIf you going out tonight get your pistol and your rifle\nPray to the father and sell your soul to the cycle\nYou coming nigga, listen no bouncing and no bitching\nCooking by the kitchen, flags and finger flipping\nLiving without growing, killing without blowing,\nThis gang is a gun it's either given or chosen\nTrying to get the trigger strapped, trying to get these niggas back,\nWorst part of the deal it won't help bring our nigga back\nTell your babies that you love her, kiss your mama before you leave her\nHug her like you need her, cause it might be the last time you might see her\n\nThe streets are so slick, they're greasy, as the needy feed the needy\nEasy to murder if you're hungry or greedy, gang sets in grafitti,\nI mean, we mean like Eeedie, I mean, I mean I finna' a track a treaty,\nTake my warrants to Tahiti,\nThrow up your flags like soccer, nothing but war on TV\nR.I.P Appachi up in heaven in a platinum TP\nAggressive is the message, No lessons without the effort\nBang bang live by the gun, dye by the gun, it's a flag thing","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.55] Mama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\n[00:05.09] Code of the streets that I gotta keep\n[00:07.82] They bang so we bang back\n[00:09.84] So I rep my hood, my city, my borough, thoroughly\n[00:13.98] That's all I have, yeah, oh, yeah\n[00:21.85] Father, if you're still listening\n[00:23.73] We hope our prayers make it up to heaven\n[00:26.44] And if we fall then we're not forgotten\n[00:29.38] Don't let our lil' brothers end up like we did\n[00:32.96] Let 'em grow up and get a job\n[00:34.75] Don't let 'em grow up behind bars, tryna be hard\n[00:38.18] Oh, Father, can you swiffen my feet?\n[00:40.43] Reppin' the wrong color on the wrong street with no heat\n[00:43.42] Rocking Dickies and Chukkas, bandannas, my brothers\n[00:46.62] Haters or lovers, we still got each other\n[00:49.35] We twist our hands up and pull our pants up\n[00:52.07] Walk this way throw your flag and your set-up\n[00:55.32] Mama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\n[01:00.12] Code of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\n[01:04.84] So we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\n[01:11.41] You gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n[01:16.48] I heard you mob and you're moody, you jacking for jewelry\n[01:19.72] You bangin' and beastin' with your tats and your toolies\n[01:22.43] Banging for bounty you're too young for the 90's\n[01:25.04] Were you dumping with the G-Reps or jumped-in in the county?\n[01:28.18] Shootin' by the roof and scrapin' is what's happenin'\n[01:30.95] Niggas real and 'bout it so \"ooraah\" and they crackin'\n[01:33.49] If you going out tonight get your pistol and your rifle\n[01:36.34] Pray to the Father and sell your soul to the cycle\n[01:39.09] You coming, nigga? Listen, no bouncing, ain't no bitching\n[01:41.87] Cooking by the kitchen, flags and finger flipping\n[01:44.68] Living without growing, killing without blowing\n[01:47.28] This gang is a gun, it's either given or chosen\n[01:50.01] Trying to get the trigger strapped, trying to get these niggas back\n[01:52.73] Worst part of the deal it won't help bring our nigga back\n[01:55.77] Tell your babies that you love her, kiss your mama before you leave her\n[01:58.67] Hug her like you need her, 'case this is the last time you see her\n[02:01.86] Mama, don't cry for me (eh), Papa, don't feel bad\n[02:06.61] Code of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\n[02:11.14] So we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\n[02:17.22] You gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n[02:22.68] The streets are so slick, they're greasy, yes indeedy, feed the needy\n[02:25.91] Easy to murder if you're hungry or greedy, gang sets in graffiti\n[02:29.26] I mean, we mean like Idi Amin\n[02:31.09] I mean I finna' a track a treaty, take my warrants to Tahiti\n[02:34.03] Throw up your flags like soccer, nothing but war on TV\n[02:36.99] R.I.P Apache up in heaven in a platinum teepee\n[02:39.96] Aggressive is the message, no lessons without the effort\n[02:42.47] Bang bang, live by the gun, die by the gun, it's a flag thing\n[02:45.81] Mama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\n[02:50.78] Code of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\n[02:55.28] So we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\n[03:01.40] You gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n[03:07.81] Mama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\n[03:12.60] Code of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\n[03:17.23] So we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\n[03:23.70] You gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n[03:28.86] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Flags (feat. Balewa Muhammad)\n  artist: Naughty By Nature\n  album: Anthem Inc.\n  duration_ms: 211000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Mama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\n  start_ms: 550\n  end_ms: 5090\n- text: Code of the streets that I gotta keep\n  start_ms: 5090\n  end_ms: 7820\n- text: They bang so we bang back\n  start_ms: 7820\n  end_ms: 9840\n- text: So I rep my hood, my city, my borough, thoroughly\n  start_ms: 9840\n  end_ms: 13980\n- text: That's all I have, yeah, oh, yeah\n  start_ms: 13980\n  end_ms: 21850\n- text: Father, if you're still listening\n  start_ms: 21850\n  end_ms: 23730\n- text: We hope our prayers make it up to heaven\n  start_ms: 23730\n  end_ms: 26440\n- text: And if we fall then we're not forgotten\n  start_ms: 26440\n  end_ms: 29380\n- text: Don't let our lil' brothers end up like we did\n  start_ms: 29380\n  end_ms: 32960\n- text: Let 'em grow up and get a job\n  start_ms: 32960\n  end_ms: 34750\n- text: Don't let 'em grow up behind bars, tryna be hard\n  start_ms: 34750\n  end_ms: 38180\n- text: Oh, Father, can you swiffen my feet?\n  start_ms: 38180\n  end_ms: 40430\n- text: Reppin' the wrong color on the wrong street with no heat\n  start_ms: 40430\n  end_ms: 43420\n- text: Rocking Dickies and Chukkas, bandannas, my brothers\n  start_ms: 43420\n  end_ms: 46620\n- text: Haters or lovers, we still got each other\n  start_ms: 46620\n  end_ms: 49350\n- text: We twist our hands up and pull our pants up\n  start_ms: 49350\n  end_ms: 52070\n- text: Walk this way throw your flag and your set-up\n  start_ms: 52070\n  end_ms: 55320\n- text: Mama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\n  start_ms: 55320\n  end_ms: 60120\n- text: Code of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\n  start_ms: 60120\n  end_ms: 64840\n- text: So we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\n  start_ms: 64840\n  end_ms: 71410\n- text: You gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n  start_ms: 71410\n  end_ms: 76480\n- text: I heard you mob and you're moody, you jacking for jewelry\n  start_ms: 76480\n  end_ms: 79720\n- text: You bangin' and beastin' with your tats and your toolies\n  start_ms: 79720\n  end_ms: 82430\n- text: Banging for bounty you're too young for the 90's\n  start_ms: 82430\n  end_ms: 85040\n- text: Were you dumping with the G-Reps or jumped-in in the county?\n  start_ms: 85040\n  end_ms: 88180\n- text: Shootin' by the roof and scrapin' is what's happenin'\n  start_ms: 88180\n  end_ms: 90950\n- text: Niggas real and 'bout it so \"ooraah\" and they crackin'\n  start_ms: 90950\n  end_ms: 93490\n- text: If you going out tonight get your pistol and your rifle\n  start_ms: 93490\n  end_ms: 96340\n- text: Pray to the Father and sell your soul to the cycle\n  start_ms: 96340\n  end_ms: 99090\n- text: You coming, nigga? Listen, no bouncing, ain't no bitching\n  start_ms: 99090\n  end_ms: 101870\n- text: Cooking by the kitchen, flags and finger flipping\n  start_ms: 101870\n  end_ms: 104680\n- text: Living without growing, killing without blowing\n  start_ms: 104680\n  end_ms: 107280\n- text: This gang is a gun, it's either given or chosen\n  start_ms: 107280\n  end_ms: 110010\n- text: Trying to get the trigger strapped, trying to get these niggas back\n  start_ms: 110010\n  end_ms: 112730\n- text: Worst part of the deal it won't help bring our nigga back\n  start_ms: 112730\n  end_ms: 115770\n- text: Tell your babies that you love her, kiss your mama before you leave her\n  start_ms: 115770\n  end_ms: 118670\n- text: Hug her like you need her, 'case this is the last time you see her\n  start_ms: 118670\n  end_ms: 121860\n- text: Mama, don't cry for me (eh), Papa, don't feel bad\n  start_ms: 121860\n  end_ms: 126610\n- text: Code of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\n  start_ms: 126610\n  end_ms: 131140\n- text: So we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\n  start_ms: 131140\n  end_ms: 137220\n- text: You gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n  start_ms: 137220\n  end_ms: 142680\n- text: The streets are so slick, they're greasy, yes indeedy, feed the needy\n  start_ms: 142680\n  end_ms: 145910\n- text: Easy to murder if you're hungry or greedy, gang sets in graffiti\n  start_ms: 145910\n  end_ms: 149260\n- text: I mean, we mean like Idi Amin\n  start_ms: 149260\n  end_ms: 151090\n- text: I mean I finna' a track a treaty, take my warrants to Tahiti\n  start_ms: 151090\n  end_ms: 154030\n- text: Throw up your flags like soccer, nothing but war on TV\n  start_ms: 154030\n  end_ms: 156990\n- text: R.I.P Apache up in heaven in a platinum teepee\n  start_ms: 156990\n  end_ms: 159960\n- text: Aggressive is the message, no lessons without the effort\n  start_ms: 159960\n  end_ms: 162470\n- text: Bang bang, live by the gun, die by the gun, it's a flag thing\n  start_ms: 162470\n  end_ms: 165810\n- text: Mama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\n  start_ms: 165810\n  end_ms: 170780\n- text: Code of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\n  start_ms: 170780\n  end_ms: 175280\n- text: So we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\n  start_ms: 175280\n  end_ms: 181400\n- text: You gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n  start_ms: 181400\n  end_ms: 187810\n- text: Mama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\n  start_ms: 187810\n  end_ms: 192600\n- text: Code of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\n  start_ms: 192600\n  end_ms: 197230\n- text: So we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\n  start_ms: 197230\n  end_ms: 203700\n- text: You gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n  start_ms: 203700\n  end_ms: 208860\nplain: |-\n  Mama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad\n  Cold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back\n  So I rep my hood, my city, my borough, thorougly\n  That's all we have\n\n  Father if you still listening, we hope our prayers make it up to heaven,\n  If we fall then we're not forgotten don't let our lil' brothers end up like we did\n  Let them grow up and get a job\n  Don't let them grow up behind bars, trying to be hard\n  Oh, Father can you swiffen my feet\n  Repping the wrong colour on the wrong street with no heat\n  Rocking hickies and truckers, bandannas my brothers\n  My haters or lovers we still got each other\n  We twist our hands up and pull our pants up\n  Walk this way throw your flag and your setup\n\n  Mama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad\n  Cold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back\n  So I rep my hood, my city, my borough, my family thorougly\n  That's all we have\n  You gotta cook the beef or you don't eat\n  That's why we fly our flags\n\n  I heard you mob and you're moody, you jacking for jewellery\n  You banging and beasting with your tats and your toolies\n  Banging for bounty you're too young for the nineties,\n  Are you dumping with the G-Reps or jumping in the county\n  Shooting by the roof and scraping is what's happening,\n  Niggas real and 'bout it so [Gun Onomatopoeia] and they cracking\n  If you going out tonight get your pistol and your rifle\n  Pray to the father and sell your soul to the cycle\n  You coming nigga, listen no bouncing and no bitching\n  Cooking by the kitchen, flags and finger flipping\n  Living without growing, killing without blowing,\n  This gang is a gun it's either given or chosen\n  Trying to get the trigger strapped, trying to get these niggas back,\n  Worst part of the deal it won't help bring our nigga back\n  Tell your babies that you love her, kiss your mama before you leave her\n  Hug her like you need her, cause it might be the last time you might see her\n\n  The streets are so slick, they're greasy, as the needy feed the needy\n  Easy to murder if you're hungry or greedy, gang sets in grafitti,\n  I mean, we mean like Eeedie, I mean, I mean I finna' a track a treaty,\n  Take my warrants to Tahiti,\n  Throw up your flags like soccer, nothing but war on TV\n  R.I.P Appachi up in heaven in a platinum TP\n  Aggressive is the message, No lessons without the effort\n  Bang bang live by the gun, dye by the gun, it's a flag thing\n"},{"id":17512348,"name":"Flags Ft Balewa Muhammad","trackName":"Flags Ft Balewa Muhammad","artistName":"Naughty By Nature","albumName":"Greatest Hits","duration":213.5019749,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Mama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad\nCold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back\nSo I rep my hood, my city, my borough, thorougly\nThat's all we have\n\nFather if you still listening, we hope our prayers make it up to heaven\nIf we fall then we're not forgotten don't let our lil' brothers end up like we did\nLet them grow up and get a job\nDon't let them grow up behind bars, trying to be hard\nOh, Father can you swiffen my feet\nRepping the wrong colour on the wrong street with no heat\nRocking hickies and truckers, bandannas my brothers\nMy haters or lovers we still got each other\nWe twist our hands up and pull our pants up\nWalk this way throw your flag and your setup\n\nMama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad\nCold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back\nSo I rep my hood, my city, my borough, my family thorougly\nThat's all we have\nYou gotta cook the beef or you don't eat\nThat's why we fly our flags\n\nI heard you mob and you're moody, you jacking for jewellery\nYou banging and beasting with your tats and your toolies\nBanging for bounty you're too young for the nineties\nAre you dumping with the G-Reps or jumping in the county\nShooting by the roof and scraping is what's happening\nNiggas real and 'bout it so and they cracking\nIf you going out tonight get your pistol and your rifle\nPray to the father and sell your soul to the cycle\nYou coming nigga, listen no bouncing and no bitching\nCooking by the kitchen, flags and finger flipping\nLiving without growing, killing without blowing\nThis gang is a gun it's either given or chosen\nTrying to get the trigger strapped, trying to get these niggas back\nWorst part of the deal it won't help bring our nigga back\nTell your babies that you love her, kiss your mama before you leave her\nHug her like you need her, cause it might be the last time you might see her\n\nThe streets are so slick, they're greasy, as the needy feed the needy\nEasy to murder if you're hungry or greedy, gang sets in grafitti\nI mean, we mean like Eeedie, I mean, I mean I finna' a track a treaty\nTake my warrants to Tahiti\nThrow up your flags like soccer, nothing but war on TV\nR.I.P Appachi up in heaven in a platinum TP\nAggressive is the message, No lessons without the effort\nBang bang live by the gun, dye by the gun, it's a flag thing","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Flags Ft Balewa Muhammad\n  artist: Naughty By Nature\n  album: Greatest Hits\n  duration_ms: 213502\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Mama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad\n  Cold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back\n  So I rep my hood, my city, my borough, thorougly\n  That's all we have\n\n  Father if you still listening, we hope our prayers make it up to heaven\n  If we fall then we're not forgotten don't let our lil' brothers end up like we did\n  Let them grow up and get a job\n  Don't let them grow up behind bars, trying to be hard\n  Oh, Father can you swiffen my feet\n  Repping the wrong colour on the wrong street with no heat\n  Rocking hickies and truckers, bandannas my brothers\n  My haters or lovers we still got each other\n  We twist our hands up and pull our pants up\n  Walk this way throw your flag and your setup\n\n  Mama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad\n  Cold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back\n  So I rep my hood, my city, my borough, my family thorougly\n  That's all we have\n  You gotta cook the beef or you don't eat\n  That's why we fly our flags\n\n  I heard you mob and you're moody, you jacking for jewellery\n  You banging and beasting with your tats and your toolies\n  Banging for bounty you're too young for the nineties\n  Are you dumping with the G-Reps or jumping in the county\n  Shooting by the roof and scraping is what's happening\n  Niggas real and 'bout it so and they cracking\n  If you going out tonight get your pistol and your rifle\n  Pray to the father and sell your soul to the cycle\n  You coming nigga, listen no bouncing and no bitching\n  Cooking by the kitchen, flags and finger flipping\n  Living without growing, killing without blowing\n  This gang is a gun it's either given or chosen\n  Trying to get the trigger strapped, trying to get these niggas back\n  Worst part of the deal it won't help bring our nigga back\n  Tell your babies that you love her, kiss your mama before you leave her\n  Hug her like you need her, cause it might be the last time you might see her\n\n  The streets are so slick, they're greasy, as the needy feed the needy\n  Easy to murder if you're hungry or greedy, gang sets in grafitti\n  I mean, we mean like Eeedie, I mean, I mean I finna' a track a treaty\n  Take my warrants to Tahiti\n  Throw up your flags like soccer, nothing but war on TV\n  R.I.P Appachi up in heaven in a platinum TP\n  Aggressive is the message, No lessons without the effort\n  Bang bang live by the gun, dye by the gun, it's a flag thing\n"},{"id":22889763,"name":"Flags Ft Balewa Muhammad","trackName":"Flags Ft Balewa Muhammad","artistName":"Naughty By Nature","albumName":"Anthem Inc","duration":213.4987776,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Mama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad\nCold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back\nSo I rep my hood, my city, my borough, thorougly\nThat's all we have\n\nFather if you still listening, we hope our prayers make it up to heaven\nIf we fall then we're not forgotten don't let our lil' brothers end up like we did\nLet them grow up and get a job\nDon't let them grow up behind bars, trying to be hard\nOh, Father can you swiffen my feet\nRepping the wrong colour on the wrong street with no heat\nRocking hickies and truckers, bandannas my brothers\nMy haters or lovers we still got each other\nWe twist our hands up and pull our pants up\nWalk this way throw your flag and your setup\n\nMama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad\nCold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back\nSo I rep my hood, my city, my borough, my family thorougly\nThat's all we have\nYou gotta cook the beef or you don't eat\nThat's why we fly our flags\n\nI heard you mob and you're moody, you jacking for jewellery\nYou banging and beasting with your tats and your toolies\nBanging for bounty you're too young for the nineties\nAre you dumping with the G-Reps or jumping in the county\nShooting by the roof and scraping is what's happening\nNiggas real and 'bout it so and they cracking\nIf you going out tonight get your pistol and your rifle\nPray to the father and sell your soul to the cycle\nYou coming nigga, listen no bouncing and no bitching\nCooking by the kitchen, flags and finger flipping\nLiving without growing, killing without blowing\nThis gang is a gun it's either given or chosen\nTrying to get the trigger strapped, trying to get these niggas back\nWorst part of the deal it won't help bring our nigga back\nTell your babies that you love her, kiss your mama before you leave her\nHug her like you need her, cause it might be the last time you might see her\n\nThe streets are so slick, they're greasy, as the needy feed the needy\nEasy to murder if you're hungry or greedy, gang sets in grafitti\nI mean, we mean like Eeedie, I mean, I mean I finna' a track a treaty\nTake my warrants to Tahiti\nThrow up your flags like soccer, nothing but war on TV\nR.I.P Appachi up in heaven in a platinum TP\nAggressive is the message, No lessons without the effort\nBang bang live by the gun, dye by the gun, it's a flag thing","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Flags Ft Balewa Muhammad\n  artist: Naughty By Nature\n  album: Anthem Inc\n  duration_ms: 213499\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Mama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad\n  Cold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back\n  So I rep my hood, my city, my borough, thorougly\n  That's all we have\n\n  Father if you still listening, we hope our prayers make it up to heaven\n  If we fall then we're not forgotten don't let our lil' brothers end up like we did\n  Let them grow up and get a job\n  Don't let them grow up behind bars, trying to be hard\n  Oh, Father can you swiffen my feet\n  Repping the wrong colour on the wrong street with no heat\n  Rocking hickies and truckers, bandannas my brothers\n  My haters or lovers we still got each other\n  We twist our hands up and pull our pants up\n  Walk this way throw your flag and your setup\n\n  Mama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad\n  Cold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back\n  So I rep my hood, my city, my borough, my family thorougly\n  That's all we have\n  You gotta cook the beef or you don't eat\n  That's why we fly our flags\n\n  I heard you mob and you're moody, you jacking for jewellery\n  You banging and beasting with your tats and your toolies\n  Banging for bounty you're too young for the nineties\n  Are you dumping with the G-Reps or jumping in the county\n  Shooting by the roof and scraping is what's happening\n  Niggas real and 'bout it so and they cracking\n  If you going out tonight get your pistol and your rifle\n  Pray to the father and sell your soul to the cycle\n  You coming nigga, listen no bouncing and no bitching\n  Cooking by the kitchen, flags and finger flipping\n  Living without growing, killing without blowing\n  This gang is a gun it's either given or chosen\n  Trying to get the trigger strapped, trying to get these niggas back\n  Worst part of the deal it won't help bring our nigga back\n  Tell your babies that you love her, kiss your mama before you leave her\n  Hug her like you need her, cause it might be the last time you might see her\n\n  The streets are so slick, they're greasy, as the needy feed the needy\n  Easy to murder if you're hungry or greedy, gang sets in grafitti\n  I mean, we mean like Eeedie, I mean, I mean I finna' a track a treaty\n  Take my warrants to Tahiti\n  Throw up your flags like soccer, nothing but war on TV\n  R.I.P Appachi up in heaven in a platinum TP\n  Aggressive is the message, No lessons without the effort\n  Bang bang live by the gun, dye by the gun, it's a flag thing\n"},{"id":25953147,"name":"Flags (feat. Balewa Muhammad)","trackName":"Flags (feat. Balewa Muhammad)","artistName":"Naughty By Nature","albumName":"Anthem, Inc. (20th Anniversary Collector's Edition)","duration":211.413333,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Mama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad\nCold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back\nSo I rep my hood, my city, my borough, thorougly\nThat's all we have\n\nFather if you still listening, we hope our prayers make it up to heaven,\nIf we fall then we're not forgotten don't let our lil' brothers end up like we did\nLet them grow up and get a job\nDon't let them grow up behind bars, trying to be hard\nOh, Father can you swiffen my feet\nRepping the wrong colour on the wrong street with no heat\nRocking hickies and truckers, bandannas my brothers\nMy haters or lovers we still got each other\nWe twist our hands up and pull our pants up\nWalk this way throw your flag and your setup\n\nMama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad\nCold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back\nSo I rep my hood, my city, my borough, my family thorougly\nThat's all we have\nYou gotta cook the beef or you don't eat\nThat's why we fly our flags\n\nI heard you mob and you're moody, you jacking for jewellery\nYou banging and beasting with your tats and your toolies\nBanging for bounty you're too young for the nineties,\nAre you dumping with the G-Reps or jumping in the county\nShooting by the roof and scraping is what's happening,\nNiggas real and 'bout it so [Gun Onomatopoeia] and they cracking\nIf you going out tonight get your pistol and your rifle\nPray to the father and sell your soul to the cycle\nYou coming nigga, listen no bouncing and no bitching\nCooking by the kitchen, flags and finger flipping\nLiving without growing, killing without blowing,\nThis gang is a gun it's either given or chosen\nTrying to get the trigger strapped, trying to get these niggas back,\nWorst part of the deal it won't help bring our nigga back\nTell your babies that you love her, kiss your mama before you leave her\nHug her like you need her, cause it might be the last time you might see her\n\nThe streets are so slick, they're greasy, as the needy feed the needy\nEasy to murder if you're hungry or greedy, gang sets in grafitti,\nI mean, we mean like Eeedie, I mean, I mean I finna' a track a treaty,\nTake my warrants to Tahiti,\nThrow up your flags like soccer, nothing but war on TV\nR.I.P Appachi up in heaven in a platinum TP\nAggressive is the message, No lessons without the effort\nBang bang live by the gun, dye by the gun, it's a flag thing","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Flags (feat. Balewa Muhammad)\n  artist: Naughty By Nature\n  album: Anthem, Inc. (20th Anniversary Collector's Edition)\n  duration_ms: 211413\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Mama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad\n  Cold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back\n  So I rep my hood, my city, my borough, thorougly\n  That's all we have\n\n  Father if you still listening, we hope our prayers make it up to heaven,\n  If we fall then we're not forgotten don't let our lil' brothers end up like we did\n  Let them grow up and get a job\n  Don't let them grow up behind bars, trying to be hard\n  Oh, Father can you swiffen my feet\n  Repping the wrong colour on the wrong street with no heat\n  Rocking hickies and truckers, bandannas my brothers\n  My haters or lovers we still got each other\n  We twist our hands up and pull our pants up\n  Walk this way throw your flag and your setup\n\n  Mama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad\n  Cold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back\n  So I rep my hood, my city, my borough, my family thorougly\n  That's all we have\n  You gotta cook the beef or you don't eat\n  That's why we fly our flags\n\n  I heard you mob and you're moody, you jacking for jewellery\n  You banging and beasting with your tats and your toolies\n  Banging for bounty you're too young for the nineties,\n  Are you dumping with the G-Reps or jumping in the county\n  Shooting by the roof and scraping is what's happening,\n  Niggas real and 'bout it so [Gun Onomatopoeia] and they cracking\n  If you going out tonight get your pistol and your rifle\n  Pray to the father and sell your soul to the cycle\n  You coming nigga, listen no bouncing and no bitching\n  Cooking by the kitchen, flags and finger flipping\n  Living without growing, killing without blowing,\n  This gang is a gun it's either given or chosen\n  Trying to get the trigger strapped, trying to get these niggas back,\n  Worst part of the deal it won't help bring our nigga back\n  Tell your babies that you love her, kiss your mama before you leave her\n  Hug her like you need her, cause it might be the last time you might see her\n\n  The streets are so slick, they're greasy, as the needy feed the needy\n  Easy to murder if you're hungry or greedy, gang sets in grafitti,\n  I mean, we mean like Eeedie, I mean, I mean I finna' a track a treaty,\n  Take my warrants to Tahiti,\n  Throw up your flags like soccer, nothing but war on TV\n  R.I.P Appachi up in heaven in a platinum TP\n  Aggressive is the message, No lessons without the effort\n  Bang bang live by the gun, dye by the gun, it's a flag thing\n"},{"id":16358319,"name":"Flags (Feat. Jaheim & Balewa Muhammad)","trackName":"Flags (Feat. Jaheim & Balewa Muhammad)","artistName":"Naughty By Nature","albumName":"Anthem Inc.","duration":211.435102,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Mama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\nCode of the streets that I gotta keep\nThey bang so we bang back\nSo I rep my hood, my city, my borough, thoroughly\nThat's all I have, yeah, oh, yeah\n\nFather, if you're still listening\nWe hope our prayers make it up to heaven\nAnd if we fall then we're not forgotten\nDon't let our lil' brothers end up like we did\n\nLet 'em grow up and get a job\nDon't let 'em grow up behind bars, tryna be hard\nOh, Father, can you swiffen my feet?\nReppin' the wrong color on the wrong street with no heat\nRocking Dickies and Chukkas, bandannas, my brothers\nHaters or lovers, we still got each other\nWe twist our hands up and pull our pants up\nWalk this way throw your flag and your set-up\n\nMama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\nCode of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\nSo we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\nYou gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n\nI heard you mob and you're moody, you jacking for jewelry\nYou bangin' and beastin' with your tats and your toolies\nBanging for bounty you're too young for the 90's\nWere you dumping with the G-Reps or jumped-in in the county?\nShootin' by the roof and scrapin' is what's happenin'\nNiggas real and 'bout it so \"ooraah\" and they crackin'\nIf you going out tonight get your pistol and your rifle\nPray to the Father and sell your soul to the cycle\n\nYou coming, nigga? Listen, no bouncing, ain't no bitching\nCooking by the kitchen, flags and finger flipping\nLiving without growing, killing without blowing\nThis gang is a gun, it's either given or chosen\nTrying to get the trigger strapped, trying to get these niggas back\nWorst part of the deal it won't help bring our nigga back\nTell your babies that you love her, kiss your mama before you leave her\nHug her like you need her, 'case this is the last time you see her\n\nMama, don't cry for me (eh), Papa, don't feel bad\nCode of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\nSo we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\nYou gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n\nThe streets are so slick, they're greasy, yes indeedy, feed the needy\nEasy to murder if you're hungry or greedy, gang sets in graffiti\nI mean, we mean like Idi Amin\nI mean I finna' a track a treaty, take my warrants to Tahiti\nThrow up your flags like soccer, nothing but war on TV\nR.I.P Apache up in heaven in a platinum teepee\nAggressive is the message, no lessons without the effort\nBang bang, live by the gun, die by the gun, it's a flag thing\n\nMama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\nCode of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\nSo we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\nYou gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n\nMama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\nCode of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\nSo we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\nYou gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.59] Mama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\n[00:05.09] Code of the streets that I gotta keep\n[00:07.80] They bang so we bang back\n[00:09.83] So I rep my hood, my city, my borough, thoroughly\n[00:13.96] That's all I have, yeah, oh, yeah\n[00:21.86] Father, if you're still listening\n[00:23.79] We hope our prayers make it up to heaven\n[00:26.43] And if we fall then we're not forgotten\n[00:29.38] Don't let our lil' brothers end up like we did\n[00:32.99] Let 'em grow up and get a job\n[00:34.76] Don't let 'em grow up behind bars, tryna be hard\n[00:38.14] Oh, Father, can you swiffen my feet?\n[00:40.44] Reppin' the wrong color on the wrong street with no heat\n[00:43.45] Rocking Dickies and Chukkas, bandannas, my brothers\n[00:46.68] Haters or lovers, we still got each other\n[00:49.36] We twist our hands up and pull our pants up\n[00:52.10] Walk this way throw your flag and your set-up\n[00:55.38] Mama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\n[01:00.13] Code of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\n[01:04.87] So we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\n[01:11.40] You gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n[01:16.48] I heard you mob and you're moody, you jacking for jewelry\n[01:19.78] You bangin' and beastin' with your tats and your toolies\n[01:22.41] Banging for bounty you're too young for the 90's\n[01:25.08] Were you dumping with the G-Reps or jumped-in in the county?\n[01:28.10] Shootin' by the roof and scrapin' is what's happenin'\n[01:30.95] Niggas real and 'bout it so \"ooraah\" and they crackin'\n[01:33.44] If you going out tonight get your pistol and your rifle\n[01:36.36] Pray to the Father and sell your soul to the cycle\n[01:39.07] You coming, nigga? Listen, no bouncing, ain't no bitching\n[01:41.87] Cooking by the kitchen, flags and finger flipping\n[01:44.64] Living without growing, killing without blowing\n[01:47.27] This gang is a gun, it's either given or chosen\n[01:50.08] Trying to get the trigger strapped, trying to get these niggas back\n[01:52.78] Worst part of the deal it won't help bring our nigga back\n[01:55.73] Tell your babies that you love her, kiss your mama before you leave her\n[01:58.64] Hug her like you need her, 'case this is the last time you see her\n[02:01.88] Mama, don't cry for me (eh), Papa, don't feel bad\n[02:06.66] Code of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\n[02:11.12] So we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\n[02:17.27] You gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n[02:22.63] The streets are so slick, they're greasy, yes indeedy, feed the needy\n[02:25.96] Easy to murder if you're hungry or greedy, gang sets in graffiti\n[02:29.21] I mean, we mean like Idi Amin\n[02:31.08] I mean I finna' a track a treaty, take my warrants to Tahiti\n[02:34.03] Throw up your flags like soccer, nothing but war on TV\n[02:36.96] R.I.P Apache up in heaven in a platinum teepee\n[02:39.97] Aggressive is the message, no lessons without the effort\n[02:42.42] Bang bang, live by the gun, die by the gun, it's a flag thing\n[02:45.89] Mama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\n[02:50.73] Code of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\n[02:55.23] So we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\n[03:01.38] You gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n[03:07.82] Mama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\n[03:12.63] Code of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\n[03:17.25] So we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\n[03:23.64] You gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n[03:28.89] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Flags (Feat. Jaheim & Balewa Muhammad)\n  artist: Naughty By Nature\n  album: Anthem Inc.\n  duration_ms: 211435\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Mama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\n  start_ms: 590\n  end_ms: 5090\n- text: Code of the streets that I gotta keep\n  start_ms: 5090\n  end_ms: 7800\n- text: They bang so we bang back\n  start_ms: 7800\n  end_ms: 9830\n- text: So I rep my hood, my city, my borough, thoroughly\n  start_ms: 9830\n  end_ms: 13960\n- text: That's all I have, yeah, oh, yeah\n  start_ms: 13960\n  end_ms: 21860\n- text: Father, if you're still listening\n  start_ms: 21860\n  end_ms: 23790\n- text: We hope our prayers make it up to heaven\n  start_ms: 23790\n  end_ms: 26430\n- text: And if we fall then we're not forgotten\n  start_ms: 26430\n  end_ms: 29380\n- text: Don't let our lil' brothers end up like we did\n  start_ms: 29380\n  end_ms: 32990\n- text: Let 'em grow up and get a job\n  start_ms: 32990\n  end_ms: 34760\n- text: Don't let 'em grow up behind bars, tryna be hard\n  start_ms: 34760\n  end_ms: 38140\n- text: Oh, Father, can you swiffen my feet?\n  start_ms: 38140\n  end_ms: 40440\n- text: Reppin' the wrong color on the wrong street with no heat\n  start_ms: 40440\n  end_ms: 43450\n- text: Rocking Dickies and Chukkas, bandannas, my brothers\n  start_ms: 43450\n  end_ms: 46680\n- text: Haters or lovers, we still got each other\n  start_ms: 46680\n  end_ms: 49360\n- text: We twist our hands up and pull our pants up\n  start_ms: 49360\n  end_ms: 52100\n- text: Walk this way throw your flag and your set-up\n  start_ms: 52100\n  end_ms: 55380\n- text: Mama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\n  start_ms: 55380\n  end_ms: 60130\n- text: Code of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\n  start_ms: 60130\n  end_ms: 64870\n- text: So we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\n  start_ms: 64870\n  end_ms: 71400\n- text: You gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n  start_ms: 71400\n  end_ms: 76480\n- text: I heard you mob and you're moody, you jacking for jewelry\n  start_ms: 76480\n  end_ms: 79780\n- text: You bangin' and beastin' with your tats and your toolies\n  start_ms: 79780\n  end_ms: 82410\n- text: Banging for bounty you're too young for the 90's\n  start_ms: 82410\n  end_ms: 85080\n- text: Were you dumping with the G-Reps or jumped-in in the county?\n  start_ms: 85080\n  end_ms: 88100\n- text: Shootin' by the roof and scrapin' is what's happenin'\n  start_ms: 88100\n  end_ms: 90950\n- text: Niggas real and 'bout it so \"ooraah\" and they crackin'\n  start_ms: 90950\n  end_ms: 93440\n- text: If you going out tonight get your pistol and your rifle\n  start_ms: 93440\n  end_ms: 96360\n- text: Pray to the Father and sell your soul to the cycle\n  start_ms: 96360\n  end_ms: 99070\n- text: You coming, nigga? Listen, no bouncing, ain't no bitching\n  start_ms: 99070\n  end_ms: 101870\n- text: Cooking by the kitchen, flags and finger flipping\n  start_ms: 101870\n  end_ms: 104640\n- text: Living without growing, killing without blowing\n  start_ms: 104640\n  end_ms: 107270\n- text: This gang is a gun, it's either given or chosen\n  start_ms: 107270\n  end_ms: 110080\n- text: Trying to get the trigger strapped, trying to get these niggas back\n  start_ms: 110080\n  end_ms: 112780\n- text: Worst part of the deal it won't help bring our nigga back\n  start_ms: 112780\n  end_ms: 115730\n- text: Tell your babies that you love her, kiss your mama before you leave her\n  start_ms: 115730\n  end_ms: 118640\n- text: Hug her like you need her, 'case this is the last time you see her\n  start_ms: 118640\n  end_ms: 121880\n- text: Mama, don't cry for me (eh), Papa, don't feel bad\n  start_ms: 121880\n  end_ms: 126660\n- text: Code of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\n  start_ms: 126660\n  end_ms: 131120\n- text: So we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\n  start_ms: 131120\n  end_ms: 137270\n- text: You gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n  start_ms: 137270\n  end_ms: 142630\n- text: The streets are so slick, they're greasy, yes indeedy, feed the needy\n  start_ms: 142630\n  end_ms: 145960\n- text: Easy to murder if you're hungry or greedy, gang sets in graffiti\n  start_ms: 145960\n  end_ms: 149210\n- text: I mean, we mean like Idi Amin\n  start_ms: 149210\n  end_ms: 151080\n- text: I mean I finna' a track a treaty, take my warrants to Tahiti\n  start_ms: 151080\n  end_ms: 154030\n- text: Throw up your flags like soccer, nothing but war on TV\n  start_ms: 154030\n  end_ms: 156960\n- text: R.I.P Apache up in heaven in a platinum teepee\n  start_ms: 156960\n  end_ms: 159970\n- text: Aggressive is the message, no lessons without the effort\n  start_ms: 159970\n  end_ms: 162420\n- text: Bang bang, live by the gun, die by the gun, it's a flag thing\n  start_ms: 162420\n  end_ms: 165890\n- text: Mama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\n  start_ms: 165890\n  end_ms: 170730\n- text: Code of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\n  start_ms: 170730\n  end_ms: 175230\n- text: So we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\n  start_ms: 175230\n  end_ms: 181380\n- text: You gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n  start_ms: 181380\n  end_ms: 187820\n- text: Mama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\n  start_ms: 187820\n  end_ms: 192630\n- text: Code of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\n  start_ms: 192630\n  end_ms: 197250\n- text: So we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\n  start_ms: 197250\n  end_ms: 203640\n- text: You gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n  start_ms: 203640\n  end_ms: 208890\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 208890\nplain: |-\n  Mama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\n  Code of the streets that I gotta keep\n  They bang so we bang back\n  So I rep my hood, my city, my borough, thoroughly\n  That's all I have, yeah, oh, yeah\n\n  Father, if you're still listening\n  We hope our prayers make it up to heaven\n  And if we fall then we're not forgotten\n  Don't let our lil' brothers end up like we did\n\n  Let 'em grow up and get a job\n  Don't let 'em grow up behind bars, tryna be hard\n  Oh, Father, can you swiffen my feet?\n  Reppin' the wrong color on the wrong street with no heat\n  Rocking Dickies and Chukkas, bandannas, my brothers\n  Haters or lovers, we still got each other\n  We twist our hands up and pull our pants up\n  Walk this way throw your flag and your set-up\n\n  Mama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\n  Code of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\n  So we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\n  You gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n\n  I heard you mob and you're moody, you jacking for jewelry\n  You bangin' and beastin' with your tats and your toolies\n  Banging for bounty you're too young for the 90's\n  Were you dumping with the G-Reps or jumped-in in the county?\n  Shootin' by the roof and scrapin' is what's happenin'\n  Niggas real and 'bout it so \"ooraah\" and they crackin'\n  If you going out tonight get your pistol and your rifle\n  Pray to the Father and sell your soul to the cycle\n\n  You coming, nigga? Listen, no bouncing, ain't no bitching\n  Cooking by the kitchen, flags and finger flipping\n  Living without growing, killing without blowing\n  This gang is a gun, it's either given or chosen\n  Trying to get the trigger strapped, trying to get these niggas back\n  Worst part of the deal it won't help bring our nigga back\n  Tell your babies that you love her, kiss your mama before you leave her\n  Hug her like you need her, 'case this is the last time you see her\n\n  Mama, don't cry for me (eh), Papa, don't feel bad\n  Code of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\n  So we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\n  You gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n\n  The streets are so slick, they're greasy, yes indeedy, feed the needy\n  Easy to murder if you're hungry or greedy, gang sets in graffiti\n  I mean, we mean like Idi Amin\n  I mean I finna' a track a treaty, take my warrants to Tahiti\n  Throw up your flags like soccer, nothing but war on TV\n  R.I.P Apache up in heaven in a platinum teepee\n  Aggressive is the message, no lessons without the effort\n  Bang bang, live by the gun, die by the gun, it's a flag thing\n\n  Mama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\n  Code of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\n  So we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\n  You gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n\n  Mama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\n  Code of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\n  So we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\n  You gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n"},{"id":6217976,"name":"Flags","trackName":"Flags","artistName":"Naughty By Nature feat. Balewa Muhammad","albumName":"Anthem Inc.","duration":211.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Mama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad\nCold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back\nSo I rep my hood, my city, my borough, thorougly\nThat's all we have\n\nFather if you still listening, we hope our prayers make it up to heaven,\nIf we fall then we're not forgotten don't let our lil' brothers end up like we did\nLet them grow up and get a job\nDon't let them grow up behind bars, trying to be hard\nOh, Father can you swiffen my feet\nRepping the wrong colour on the wrong street with no heat\nRocking hickies and truckers, bandannas my brothers\nMy haters or lovers we still got each other\nWe twist our hands up and pull our pants up\nWalk this way throw your flag and your setup\n\nMama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad\nCold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back\nSo I rep my hood, my city, my borough, my family thorougly\nThat's all we have\nYou gotta cook the beef or you don't eat\nThat's why we fly our flags\n\nI heard you mob and you're moody, you jacking for jewellery\nYou banging and beasting with your tats and your toolies\nBanging for bounty you're too young for the nineties,\nAre you dumping with the G-Reps or jumping in the county\nShooting by the roof and scraping is what's happening,\nNiggas real and 'bout it so [Gun Onomatopoeia] and they cracking\nIf you going out tonight get your pistol and your rifle\nPray to the father and sell your soul to the cycle\nYou coming nigga, listen no bouncing and no bitching\nCooking by the kitchen, flags and finger flipping\nLiving without growing, killing without blowing,\nThis gang is a gun it's either given or chosen\nTrying to get the trigger strapped, trying to get these niggas back,\nWorst part of the deal it won't help bring our nigga back\nTell your babies that you love her, kiss your mama before you leave her\nHug her like you need her, cause it might be the last time you might see her\n\nThe streets are so slick, they're greasy, as the needy feed the needy\nEasy to murder if you're hungry or greedy, gang sets in grafitti,\nI mean, we mean like Eeedie, I mean, I mean I finna' a track a treaty,\nTake my warrants to Tahiti,\nThrow up your flags like soccer, nothing but war on TV\nR.I.P Appachi up in heaven in a platinum TP\nAggressive is the message, No lessons without the effort\nBang bang live by the gun, dye by the gun, it's a flag thing","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.55] Mama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\n[00:05.09] Code of the streets that I gotta keep\n[00:07.82] They bang so we bang back\n[00:09.84] So I rep my hood, my city, my borough, thoroughly\n[00:13.98] That's all I have, yeah, oh, yeah\n[00:21.85] Father, if you're still listening\n[00:23.73] We hope our prayers make it up to heaven\n[00:26.44] And if we fall then we're not forgotten\n[00:29.38] Don't let our lil' brothers end up like we did\n[00:32.96] Let 'em grow up and get a job\n[00:34.75] Don't let 'em grow up behind bars, tryna be hard\n[00:38.18] Oh, Father, can you swiffen my feet?\n[00:40.43] Reppin' the wrong color on the wrong street with no heat\n[00:43.42] Rocking Dickies and Chukkas, bandannas, my brothers\n[00:46.62] Haters or lovers, we still got each other\n[00:49.35] We twist our hands up and pull our pants up\n[00:52.07] Walk this way throw your flag and your set-up\n[00:55.32] Mama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\n[01:00.12] Code of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\n[01:04.84] So we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\n[01:11.41] You gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n[01:16.48] I heard you mob and you're moody, you jacking for jewelry\n[01:19.72] You bangin' and beastin' with your tats and your toolies\n[01:22.43] Banging for bounty you're too young for the 90's\n[01:25.04] Were you dumping with the G-Reps or jumped-in in the county?\n[01:28.18] Shootin' by the roof and scrapin' is what's happenin'\n[01:30.95] Niggas real and 'bout it so \"ooraah\" and they crackin'\n[01:33.49] If you going out tonight get your pistol and your rifle\n[01:36.34] Pray to the Father and sell your soul to the cycle\n[01:39.09] You coming, nigga? Listen, no bouncing, ain't no bitching\n[01:41.87] Cooking by the kitchen, flags and finger flipping\n[01:44.68] Living without growing, killing without blowing\n[01:47.28] This gang is a gun, it's either given or chosen\n[01:50.01] Trying to get the trigger strapped, trying to get these niggas back\n[01:52.73] Worst part of the deal it won't help bring our nigga back\n[01:55.77] Tell your babies that you love her, kiss your mama before you leave her\n[01:58.67] Hug her like you need her, 'case this is the last time you see her\n[02:01.86] Mama, don't cry for me (eh), Papa, don't feel bad\n[02:06.61] Code of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\n[02:11.14] So we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\n[02:17.22] You gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n[02:22.68] The streets are so slick, they're greasy, yes indeedy, feed the needy\n[02:25.91] Easy to murder if you're hungry or greedy, gang sets in graffiti\n[02:29.26] I mean, we mean like Idi Amin\n[02:31.09] I mean I finna' a track a treaty, take my warrants to Tahiti\n[02:34.03] Throw up your flags like soccer, nothing but war on TV\n[02:36.99] R.I.P Apache up in heaven in a platinum teepee\n[02:39.96] Aggressive is the message, no lessons without the effort\n[02:42.47] Bang bang, live by the gun, die by the gun, it's a flag thing\n[02:45.81] Mama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\n[02:50.78] Code of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\n[02:55.28] So we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\n[03:01.40] You gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n[03:07.81] Mama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\n[03:12.60] Code of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\n[03:17.23] So we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\n[03:23.70] You gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n[03:28.86] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Flags\n  artist: Naughty By Nature feat. Balewa Muhammad\n  album: Anthem Inc.\n  duration_ms: 211000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Mama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\n  start_ms: 550\n  end_ms: 5090\n- text: Code of the streets that I gotta keep\n  start_ms: 5090\n  end_ms: 7820\n- text: They bang so we bang back\n  start_ms: 7820\n  end_ms: 9840\n- text: So I rep my hood, my city, my borough, thoroughly\n  start_ms: 9840\n  end_ms: 13980\n- text: That's all I have, yeah, oh, yeah\n  start_ms: 13980\n  end_ms: 21850\n- text: Father, if you're still listening\n  start_ms: 21850\n  end_ms: 23730\n- text: We hope our prayers make it up to heaven\n  start_ms: 23730\n  end_ms: 26440\n- text: And if we fall then we're not forgotten\n  start_ms: 26440\n  end_ms: 29380\n- text: Don't let our lil' brothers end up like we did\n  start_ms: 29380\n  end_ms: 32960\n- text: Let 'em grow up and get a job\n  start_ms: 32960\n  end_ms: 34750\n- text: Don't let 'em grow up behind bars, tryna be hard\n  start_ms: 34750\n  end_ms: 38180\n- text: Oh, Father, can you swiffen my feet?\n  start_ms: 38180\n  end_ms: 40430\n- text: Reppin' the wrong color on the wrong street with no heat\n  start_ms: 40430\n  end_ms: 43420\n- text: Rocking Dickies and Chukkas, bandannas, my brothers\n  start_ms: 43420\n  end_ms: 46620\n- text: Haters or lovers, we still got each other\n  start_ms: 46620\n  end_ms: 49350\n- text: We twist our hands up and pull our pants up\n  start_ms: 49350\n  end_ms: 52070\n- text: Walk this way throw your flag and your set-up\n  start_ms: 52070\n  end_ms: 55320\n- text: Mama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\n  start_ms: 55320\n  end_ms: 60120\n- text: Code of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\n  start_ms: 60120\n  end_ms: 64840\n- text: So we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\n  start_ms: 64840\n  end_ms: 71410\n- text: You gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n  start_ms: 71410\n  end_ms: 76480\n- text: I heard you mob and you're moody, you jacking for jewelry\n  start_ms: 76480\n  end_ms: 79720\n- text: You bangin' and beastin' with your tats and your toolies\n  start_ms: 79720\n  end_ms: 82430\n- text: Banging for bounty you're too young for the 90's\n  start_ms: 82430\n  end_ms: 85040\n- text: Were you dumping with the G-Reps or jumped-in in the county?\n  start_ms: 85040\n  end_ms: 88180\n- text: Shootin' by the roof and scrapin' is what's happenin'\n  start_ms: 88180\n  end_ms: 90950\n- text: Niggas real and 'bout it so \"ooraah\" and they crackin'\n  start_ms: 90950\n  end_ms: 93490\n- text: If you going out tonight get your pistol and your rifle\n  start_ms: 93490\n  end_ms: 96340\n- text: Pray to the Father and sell your soul to the cycle\n  start_ms: 96340\n  end_ms: 99090\n- text: You coming, nigga? Listen, no bouncing, ain't no bitching\n  start_ms: 99090\n  end_ms: 101870\n- text: Cooking by the kitchen, flags and finger flipping\n  start_ms: 101870\n  end_ms: 104680\n- text: Living without growing, killing without blowing\n  start_ms: 104680\n  end_ms: 107280\n- text: This gang is a gun, it's either given or chosen\n  start_ms: 107280\n  end_ms: 110010\n- text: Trying to get the trigger strapped, trying to get these niggas back\n  start_ms: 110010\n  end_ms: 112730\n- text: Worst part of the deal it won't help bring our nigga back\n  start_ms: 112730\n  end_ms: 115770\n- text: Tell your babies that you love her, kiss your mama before you leave her\n  start_ms: 115770\n  end_ms: 118670\n- text: Hug her like you need her, 'case this is the last time you see her\n  start_ms: 118670\n  end_ms: 121860\n- text: Mama, don't cry for me (eh), Papa, don't feel bad\n  start_ms: 121860\n  end_ms: 126610\n- text: Code of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\n  start_ms: 126610\n  end_ms: 131140\n- text: So we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\n  start_ms: 131140\n  end_ms: 137220\n- text: You gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n  start_ms: 137220\n  end_ms: 142680\n- text: The streets are so slick, they're greasy, yes indeedy, feed the needy\n  start_ms: 142680\n  end_ms: 145910\n- text: Easy to murder if you're hungry or greedy, gang sets in graffiti\n  start_ms: 145910\n  end_ms: 149260\n- text: I mean, we mean like Idi Amin\n  start_ms: 149260\n  end_ms: 151090\n- text: I mean I finna' a track a treaty, take my warrants to Tahiti\n  start_ms: 151090\n  end_ms: 154030\n- text: Throw up your flags like soccer, nothing but war on TV\n  start_ms: 154030\n  end_ms: 156990\n- text: R.I.P Apache up in heaven in a platinum teepee\n  start_ms: 156990\n  end_ms: 159960\n- text: Aggressive is the message, no lessons without the effort\n  start_ms: 159960\n  end_ms: 162470\n- text: Bang bang, live by the gun, die by the gun, it's a flag thing\n  start_ms: 162470\n  end_ms: 165810\n- text: Mama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\n  start_ms: 165810\n  end_ms: 170780\n- text: Code of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\n  start_ms: 170780\n  end_ms: 175280\n- text: So we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\n  start_ms: 175280\n  end_ms: 181400\n- text: You gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n  start_ms: 181400\n  end_ms: 187810\n- text: Mama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\n  start_ms: 187810\n  end_ms: 192600\n- text: Code of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\n  start_ms: 192600\n  end_ms: 197230\n- text: So we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\n  start_ms: 197230\n  end_ms: 203700\n- text: You gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n  start_ms: 203700\n  end_ms: 208860\nplain: |-\n  Mama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad\n  Cold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back\n  So I rep my hood, my city, my borough, thorougly\n  That's all we have\n\n  Father if you still listening, we hope our prayers make it up to heaven,\n  If we fall then we're not forgotten don't let our lil' brothers end up like we did\n  Let them grow up and get a job\n  Don't let them grow up behind bars, trying to be hard\n  Oh, Father can you swiffen my feet\n  Repping the wrong colour on the wrong street with no heat\n  Rocking hickies and truckers, bandannas my brothers\n  My haters or lovers we still got each other\n  We twist our hands up and pull our pants up\n  Walk this way throw your flag and your setup\n\n  Mama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad\n  Cold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back\n  So I rep my hood, my city, my borough, my family thorougly\n  That's all we have\n  You gotta cook the beef or you don't eat\n  That's why we fly our flags\n\n  I heard you mob and you're moody, you jacking for jewellery\n  You banging and beasting with your tats and your toolies\n  Banging for bounty you're too young for the nineties,\n  Are you dumping with the G-Reps or jumping in the county\n  Shooting by the roof and scraping is what's happening,\n  Niggas real and 'bout it so [Gun Onomatopoeia] and they cracking\n  If you going out tonight get your pistol and your rifle\n  Pray to the father and sell your soul to the cycle\n  You coming nigga, listen no bouncing and no bitching\n  Cooking by the kitchen, flags and finger flipping\n  Living without growing, killing without blowing,\n  This gang is a gun it's either given or chosen\n  Trying to get the trigger strapped, trying to get these niggas back,\n  Worst part of the deal it won't help bring our nigga back\n  Tell your babies that you love her, kiss your mama before you leave her\n  Hug her like you need her, cause it might be the last time you might see her\n\n  The streets are so slick, they're greasy, as the needy feed the needy\n  Easy to murder if you're hungry or greedy, gang sets in grafitti,\n  I mean, we mean like Eeedie, I mean, I mean I finna' a track a treaty,\n  Take my warrants to Tahiti,\n  Throw up your flags like soccer, nothing but war on TV\n  R.I.P Appachi up in heaven in a platinum TP\n  Aggressive is the message, No lessons without the effort\n  Bang bang live by the gun, dye by the gun, it's a flag thing\n"},{"id":11160032,"name":"Flags","trackName":"Flags","artistName":"Naughty by Nature feat. Muhammad, Balewa","albumName":"Anthem Inc.","duration":211.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Mama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad\nCold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back\nSo I rep my hood, my city, my borough, thorougly\nThat's all we have\n\nFather if you still listening, we hope our prayers make it up to heaven,\nIf we fall then we're not forgotten don't let our lil' brothers end up like we did\nLet them grow up and get a job\nDon't let them grow up behind bars, trying to be hard\nOh, Father can you swiffen my feet\nRepping the wrong colour on the wrong street with no heat\nRocking hickies and truckers, bandannas my brothers\nMy haters or lovers we still got each other\nWe twist our hands up and pull our pants up\nWalk this way throw your flag and your setup\n\nMama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad\nCold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back\nSo I rep my hood, my city, my borough, my family thorougly\nThat's all we have\nYou gotta cook the beef or you don't eat\nThat's why we fly our flags\n\nI heard you mob and you're moody, you jacking for jewellery\nYou banging and beasting with your tats and your toolies\nBanging for bounty you're too young for the nineties,\nAre you dumping with the G-Reps or jumping in the county\nShooting by the roof and scraping is what's happening,\nNiggas real and 'bout it so [Gun Onomatopoeia] and they cracking\nIf you going out tonight get your pistol and your rifle\nPray to the father and sell your soul to the cycle\nYou coming nigga, listen no bouncing and no bitching\nCooking by the kitchen, flags and finger flipping\nLiving without growing, killing without blowing,\nThis gang is a gun it's either given or chosen\nTrying to get the trigger strapped, trying to get these niggas back,\nWorst part of the deal it won't help bring our nigga back\nTell your babies that you love her, kiss your mama before you leave her\nHug her like you need her, cause it might be the last time you might see her\n\nThe streets are so slick, they're greasy, as the needy feed the needy\nEasy to murder if you're hungry or greedy, gang sets in grafitti,\nI mean, we mean like Eeedie, I mean, I mean I finna' a track a treaty,\nTake my warrants to Tahiti,\nThrow up your flags like soccer, nothing but war on TV\nR.I.P Appachi up in heaven in a platinum TP\nAggressive is the message, No lessons without the effort\nBang bang live by the gun, dye by the gun, it's a flag thing","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.55] Mama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\n[00:05.09] Code of the streets that I gotta keep\n[00:07.82] They bang so we bang back\n[00:09.84] So I rep my hood, my city, my borough, thoroughly\n[00:13.98] That's all I have, yeah, oh, yeah\n[00:21.85] Father, if you're still listening\n[00:23.73] We hope our prayers make it up to heaven\n[00:26.44] And if we fall then we're not forgotten\n[00:29.38] Don't let our lil' brothers end up like we did\n[00:32.96] Let 'em grow up and get a job\n[00:34.75] Don't let 'em grow up behind bars, tryna be hard\n[00:38.18] Oh, Father, can you swiffen my feet?\n[00:40.43] Reppin' the wrong color on the wrong street with no heat\n[00:43.42] Rocking Dickies and Chukkas, bandannas, my brothers\n[00:46.62] Haters or lovers, we still got each other\n[00:49.35] We twist our hands up and pull our pants up\n[00:52.07] Walk this way throw your flag and your set-up\n[00:55.32] Mama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\n[01:00.12] Code of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\n[01:04.84] So we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\n[01:11.41] You gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n[01:16.48] I heard you mob and you're moody, you jacking for jewelry\n[01:19.72] You bangin' and beastin' with your tats and your toolies\n[01:22.43] Banging for bounty you're too young for the 90's\n[01:25.04] Were you dumping with the G-Reps or jumped-in in the county?\n[01:28.18] Shootin' by the roof and scrapin' is what's happenin'\n[01:30.95] Niggas real and 'bout it so \"ooraah\" and they crackin'\n[01:33.49] If you going out tonight get your pistol and your rifle\n[01:36.34] Pray to the Father and sell your soul to the cycle\n[01:39.09] You coming, nigga? Listen, no bouncing, ain't no bitching\n[01:41.87] Cooking by the kitchen, flags and finger flipping\n[01:44.68] Living without growing, killing without blowing\n[01:47.28] This gang is a gun, it's either given or chosen\n[01:50.01] Trying to get the trigger strapped, trying to get these niggas back\n[01:52.73] Worst part of the deal it won't help bring our nigga back\n[01:55.77] Tell your babies that you love her, kiss your mama before you leave her\n[01:58.67] Hug her like you need her, 'case this is the last time you see her\n[02:01.86] Mama, don't cry for me (eh), Papa, don't feel bad\n[02:06.61] Code of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\n[02:11.14] So we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\n[02:17.22] You gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n[02:22.68] The streets are so slick, they're greasy, yes indeedy, feed the needy\n[02:25.91] Easy to murder if you're hungry or greedy, gang sets in graffiti\n[02:29.26] I mean, we mean like Idi Amin\n[02:31.09] I mean I finna' a track a treaty, take my warrants to Tahiti\n[02:34.03] Throw up your flags like soccer, nothing but war on TV\n[02:36.99] R.I.P Apache up in heaven in a platinum teepee\n[02:39.96] Aggressive is the message, no lessons without the effort\n[02:42.47] Bang bang, live by the gun, die by the gun, it's a flag thing\n[02:45.81] Mama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\n[02:50.78] Code of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\n[02:55.28] So we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\n[03:01.40] You gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n[03:07.81] Mama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\n[03:12.60] Code of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\n[03:17.23] So we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\n[03:23.70] You gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n[03:28.86] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Flags\n  artist: Naughty by Nature feat. Muhammad, Balewa\n  album: Anthem Inc.\n  duration_ms: 211000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Mama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\n  start_ms: 550\n  end_ms: 5090\n- text: Code of the streets that I gotta keep\n  start_ms: 5090\n  end_ms: 7820\n- text: They bang so we bang back\n  start_ms: 7820\n  end_ms: 9840\n- text: So I rep my hood, my city, my borough, thoroughly\n  start_ms: 9840\n  end_ms: 13980\n- text: That's all I have, yeah, oh, yeah\n  start_ms: 13980\n  end_ms: 21850\n- text: Father, if you're still listening\n  start_ms: 21850\n  end_ms: 23730\n- text: We hope our prayers make it up to heaven\n  start_ms: 23730\n  end_ms: 26440\n- text: And if we fall then we're not forgotten\n  start_ms: 26440\n  end_ms: 29380\n- text: Don't let our lil' brothers end up like we did\n  start_ms: 29380\n  end_ms: 32960\n- text: Let 'em grow up and get a job\n  start_ms: 32960\n  end_ms: 34750\n- text: Don't let 'em grow up behind bars, tryna be hard\n  start_ms: 34750\n  end_ms: 38180\n- text: Oh, Father, can you swiffen my feet?\n  start_ms: 38180\n  end_ms: 40430\n- text: Reppin' the wrong color on the wrong street with no heat\n  start_ms: 40430\n  end_ms: 43420\n- text: Rocking Dickies and Chukkas, bandannas, my brothers\n  start_ms: 43420\n  end_ms: 46620\n- text: Haters or lovers, we still got each other\n  start_ms: 46620\n  end_ms: 49350\n- text: We twist our hands up and pull our pants up\n  start_ms: 49350\n  end_ms: 52070\n- text: Walk this way throw your flag and your set-up\n  start_ms: 52070\n  end_ms: 55320\n- text: Mama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\n  start_ms: 55320\n  end_ms: 60120\n- text: Code of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\n  start_ms: 60120\n  end_ms: 64840\n- text: So we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\n  start_ms: 64840\n  end_ms: 71410\n- text: You gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n  start_ms: 71410\n  end_ms: 76480\n- text: I heard you mob and you're moody, you jacking for jewelry\n  start_ms: 76480\n  end_ms: 79720\n- text: You bangin' and beastin' with your tats and your toolies\n  start_ms: 79720\n  end_ms: 82430\n- text: Banging for bounty you're too young for the 90's\n  start_ms: 82430\n  end_ms: 85040\n- text: Were you dumping with the G-Reps or jumped-in in the county?\n  start_ms: 85040\n  end_ms: 88180\n- text: Shootin' by the roof and scrapin' is what's happenin'\n  start_ms: 88180\n  end_ms: 90950\n- text: Niggas real and 'bout it so \"ooraah\" and they crackin'\n  start_ms: 90950\n  end_ms: 93490\n- text: If you going out tonight get your pistol and your rifle\n  start_ms: 93490\n  end_ms: 96340\n- text: Pray to the Father and sell your soul to the cycle\n  start_ms: 96340\n  end_ms: 99090\n- text: You coming, nigga? Listen, no bouncing, ain't no bitching\n  start_ms: 99090\n  end_ms: 101870\n- text: Cooking by the kitchen, flags and finger flipping\n  start_ms: 101870\n  end_ms: 104680\n- text: Living without growing, killing without blowing\n  start_ms: 104680\n  end_ms: 107280\n- text: This gang is a gun, it's either given or chosen\n  start_ms: 107280\n  end_ms: 110010\n- text: Trying to get the trigger strapped, trying to get these niggas back\n  start_ms: 110010\n  end_ms: 112730\n- text: Worst part of the deal it won't help bring our nigga back\n  start_ms: 112730\n  end_ms: 115770\n- text: Tell your babies that you love her, kiss your mama before you leave her\n  start_ms: 115770\n  end_ms: 118670\n- text: Hug her like you need her, 'case this is the last time you see her\n  start_ms: 118670\n  end_ms: 121860\n- text: Mama, don't cry for me (eh), Papa, don't feel bad\n  start_ms: 121860\n  end_ms: 126610\n- text: Code of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\n  start_ms: 126610\n  end_ms: 131140\n- text: So we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\n  start_ms: 131140\n  end_ms: 137220\n- text: You gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n  start_ms: 137220\n  end_ms: 142680\n- text: The streets are so slick, they're greasy, yes indeedy, feed the needy\n  start_ms: 142680\n  end_ms: 145910\n- text: Easy to murder if you're hungry or greedy, gang sets in graffiti\n  start_ms: 145910\n  end_ms: 149260\n- text: I mean, we mean like Idi Amin\n  start_ms: 149260\n  end_ms: 151090\n- text: I mean I finna' a track a treaty, take my warrants to Tahiti\n  start_ms: 151090\n  end_ms: 154030\n- text: Throw up your flags like soccer, nothing but war on TV\n  start_ms: 154030\n  end_ms: 156990\n- text: R.I.P Apache up in heaven in a platinum teepee\n  start_ms: 156990\n  end_ms: 159960\n- text: Aggressive is the message, no lessons without the effort\n  start_ms: 159960\n  end_ms: 162470\n- text: Bang bang, live by the gun, die by the gun, it's a flag thing\n  start_ms: 162470\n  end_ms: 165810\n- text: Mama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\n  start_ms: 165810\n  end_ms: 170780\n- text: Code of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\n  start_ms: 170780\n  end_ms: 175280\n- text: So we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\n  start_ms: 175280\n  end_ms: 181400\n- text: You gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n  start_ms: 181400\n  end_ms: 187810\n- text: Mama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\n  start_ms: 187810\n  end_ms: 192600\n- text: Code of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\n  start_ms: 192600\n  end_ms: 197230\n- text: So we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\n  start_ms: 197230\n  end_ms: 203700\n- text: You gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n  start_ms: 203700\n  end_ms: 208860\nplain: |-\n  Mama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad\n  Cold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back\n  So I rep my hood, my city, my borough, thorougly\n  That's all we have\n\n  Father if you still listening, we hope our prayers make it up to heaven,\n  If we fall then we're not forgotten don't let our lil' brothers end up like we did\n  Let them grow up and get a job\n  Don't let them grow up behind bars, trying to be hard\n  Oh, Father can you swiffen my feet\n  Repping the wrong colour on the wrong street with no heat\n  Rocking hickies and truckers, bandannas my brothers\n  My haters or lovers we still got each other\n  We twist our hands up and pull our pants up\n  Walk this way throw your flag and your setup\n\n  Mama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad\n  Cold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back\n  So I rep my hood, my city, my borough, my family thorougly\n  That's all we have\n  You gotta cook the beef or you don't eat\n  That's why we fly our flags\n\n  I heard you mob and you're moody, you jacking for jewellery\n  You banging and beasting with your tats and your toolies\n  Banging for bounty you're too young for the nineties,\n  Are you dumping with the G-Reps or jumping in the county\n  Shooting by the roof and scraping is what's happening,\n  Niggas real and 'bout it so [Gun Onomatopoeia] and they cracking\n  If you going out tonight get your pistol and your rifle\n  Pray to the father and sell your soul to the cycle\n  You coming nigga, listen no bouncing and no bitching\n  Cooking by the kitchen, flags and finger flipping\n  Living without growing, killing without blowing,\n  This gang is a gun it's either given or chosen\n  Trying to get the trigger strapped, trying to get these niggas back,\n  Worst part of the deal it won't help bring our nigga back\n  Tell your babies that you love her, kiss your mama before you leave her\n  Hug her like you need her, cause it might be the last time you might see her\n\n  The streets are so slick, they're greasy, as the needy feed the needy\n  Easy to murder if you're hungry or greedy, gang sets in grafitti,\n  I mean, we mean like Eeedie, I mean, I mean I finna' a track a treaty,\n  Take my warrants to Tahiti,\n  Throw up your flags like soccer, nothing but war on TV\n  R.I.P Appachi up in heaven in a platinum TP\n  Aggressive is the message, No lessons without the effort\n  Bang bang live by the gun, dye by the gun, it's a flag thing\n"},{"id":28860145,"name":"Flags","trackName":"Flags","artistName":"Naughty by Nature feat. Balewa Muhammad","albumName":"Anthem Inc.","duration":214.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Mama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad\nCold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back\nSo I rep my hood, my city, my borough, thorougly\nThat's all we have\n\nFather if you still listening, we hope our prayers make it up to heaven,\nIf we fall then we're not forgotten don't let our lil' brothers end up like we did\nLet them grow up and get a job\nDon't let them grow up behind bars, trying to be hard\nOh, Father can you swiffen my feet\nRepping the wrong colour on the wrong street with no heat\nRocking hickies and truckers, bandannas my brothers\nMy haters or lovers we still got each other\nWe twist our hands up and pull our pants up\nWalk this way throw your flag and your setup\n\nMama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad\nCold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back\nSo I rep my hood, my city, my borough, my family thorougly\nThat's all we have\nYou gotta cook the beef or you don't eat\nThat's why we fly our flags\n\nI heard you mob and you're moody, you jacking for jewellery\nYou banging and beasting with your tats and your toolies\nBanging for bounty you're too young for the nineties,\nAre you dumping with the G-Reps or jumping in the county\nShooting by the roof and scraping is what's happening,\nNiggas real and 'bout it so [Gun Onomatopoeia] and they cracking\nIf you going out tonight get your pistol and your rifle\nPray to the father and sell your soul to the cycle\nYou coming nigga, listen no bouncing and no bitching\nCooking by the kitchen, flags and finger flipping\nLiving without growing, killing without blowing,\nThis gang is a gun it's either given or chosen\nTrying to get the trigger strapped, trying to get these niggas back,\nWorst part of the deal it won't help bring our nigga back\nTell your babies that you love her, kiss your mama before you leave her\nHug her like you need her, cause it might be the last time you might see her\n\nThe streets are so slick, they're greasy, as the needy feed the needy\nEasy to murder if you're hungry or greedy, gang sets in grafitti,\nI mean, we mean like Eeedie, I mean, I mean I finna' a track a treaty,\nTake my warrants to Tahiti,\nThrow up your flags like soccer, nothing but war on TV\nR.I.P Appachi up in heaven in a platinum TP\nAggressive is the message, No lessons without the effort\nBang bang live by the gun, dye by the gun, it's a flag thing","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Flags\n  artist: Naughty by Nature feat. Balewa Muhammad\n  album: Anthem Inc.\n  duration_ms: 214000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Mama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad\n  Cold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back\n  So I rep my hood, my city, my borough, thorougly\n  That's all we have\n\n  Father if you still listening, we hope our prayers make it up to heaven,\n  If we fall then we're not forgotten don't let our lil' brothers end up like we did\n  Let them grow up and get a job\n  Don't let them grow up behind bars, trying to be hard\n  Oh, Father can you swiffen my feet\n  Repping the wrong colour on the wrong street with no heat\n  Rocking hickies and truckers, bandannas my brothers\n  My haters or lovers we still got each other\n  We twist our hands up and pull our pants up\n  Walk this way throw your flag and your setup\n\n  Mama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad\n  Cold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back\n  So I rep my hood, my city, my borough, my family thorougly\n  That's all we have\n  You gotta cook the beef or you don't eat\n  That's why we fly our flags\n\n  I heard you mob and you're moody, you jacking for jewellery\n  You banging and beasting with your tats and your toolies\n  Banging for bounty you're too young for the nineties,\n  Are you dumping with the G-Reps or jumping in the county\n  Shooting by the roof and scraping is what's happening,\n  Niggas real and 'bout it so [Gun Onomatopoeia] and they cracking\n  If you going out tonight get your pistol and your rifle\n  Pray to the father and sell your soul to the cycle\n  You coming nigga, listen no bouncing and no bitching\n  Cooking by the kitchen, flags and finger flipping\n  Living without growing, killing without blowing,\n  This gang is a gun it's either given or chosen\n  Trying to get the trigger strapped, trying to get these niggas back,\n  Worst part of the deal it won't help bring our nigga back\n  Tell your babies that you love her, kiss your mama before you leave her\n  Hug her like you need her, cause it might be the last time you might see her\n\n  The streets are so slick, they're greasy, as the needy feed the needy\n  Easy to murder if you're hungry or greedy, gang sets in grafitti,\n  I mean, we mean like Eeedie, I mean, I mean I finna' a track a treaty,\n  Take my warrants to Tahiti,\n  Throw up your flags like soccer, nothing but war on TV\n  R.I.P Appachi up in heaven in a platinum TP\n  Aggressive is the message, No lessons without the effort\n  Bang bang live by the gun, dye by the gun, it's a flag thing\n"},{"id":6347797,"name":"Flags Feat. Balewa Muhammad","trackName":"Flags Feat. Balewa Muhammad","artistName":"Naughty By Nature; Balewa Muhammad","albumName":"Anthem Inc.","duration":211.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Mama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad\nCold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back\nSo I rep my hood, my city, my borough, thorougly\nThat's all we have\n\nFather if you still listening, we hope our prayers make it up to heaven,\nIf we fall then we're not forgotten don't let our lil' brothers end up like we did\nLet them grow up and get a job\nDon't let them grow up behind bars, trying to be hard\nOh, Father can you swiffen my feet\nRepping the wrong colour on the wrong street with no heat\nRocking hickies and truckers, bandannas my brothers\nMy haters or lovers we still got each other\nWe twist our hands up and pull our pants up\nWalk this way throw your flag and your setup\n\nMama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad\nCold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back\nSo I rep my hood, my city, my borough, my family thorougly\nThat's all we have\nYou gotta cook the beef or you don't eat\nThat's why we fly our flags\n\nI heard you mob and you're moody, you jacking for jewellery\nYou banging and beasting with your tats and your toolies\nBanging for bounty you're too young for the nineties,\nAre you dumping with the G-Reps or jumping in the county\nShooting by the roof and scraping is what's happening,\nNiggas real and 'bout it so [Gun Onomatopoeia] and they cracking\nIf you going out tonight get your pistol and your rifle\nPray to the father and sell your soul to the cycle\nYou coming nigga, listen no bouncing and no bitching\nCooking by the kitchen, flags and finger flipping\nLiving without growing, killing without blowing,\nThis gang is a gun it's either given or chosen\nTrying to get the trigger strapped, trying to get these niggas back,\nWorst part of the deal it won't help bring our nigga back\nTell your babies that you love her, kiss your mama before you leave her\nHug her like you need her, cause it might be the last time you might see her\n\nThe streets are so slick, they're greasy, as the needy feed the needy\nEasy to murder if you're hungry or greedy, gang sets in grafitti,\nI mean, we mean like Eeedie, I mean, I mean I finna' a track a treaty,\nTake my warrants to Tahiti,\nThrow up your flags like soccer, nothing but war on TV\nR.I.P Appachi up in heaven in a platinum TP\nAggressive is the message, No lessons without the effort\nBang bang live by the gun, dye by the gun, it's a flag thing","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.55] Mama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\n[00:05.09] Code of the streets that I gotta keep\n[00:07.82] They bang so we bang back\n[00:09.84] So I rep my hood, my city, my borough, thoroughly\n[00:13.98] That's all I have, yeah, oh, yeah\n[00:21.85] Father, if you're still listening\n[00:23.73] We hope our prayers make it up to heaven\n[00:26.44] And if we fall then we're not forgotten\n[00:29.38] Don't let our lil' brothers end up like we did\n[00:32.96] Let 'em grow up and get a job\n[00:34.75] Don't let 'em grow up behind bars, tryna be hard\n[00:38.18] Oh, Father, can you swiffen my feet?\n[00:40.43] Reppin' the wrong color on the wrong street with no heat\n[00:43.42] Rocking Dickies and Chukkas, bandannas, my brothers\n[00:46.62] Haters or lovers, we still got each other\n[00:49.35] We twist our hands up and pull our pants up\n[00:52.07] Walk this way throw your flag and your set-up\n[00:55.32] Mama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\n[01:00.12] Code of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\n[01:04.84] So we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\n[01:11.41] You gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n[01:16.48] I heard you mob and you're moody, you jacking for jewelry\n[01:19.72] You bangin' and beastin' with your tats and your toolies\n[01:22.43] Banging for bounty you're too young for the 90's\n[01:25.04] Were you dumping with the G-Reps or jumped-in in the county?\n[01:28.18] Shootin' by the roof and scrapin' is what's happenin'\n[01:30.95] Niggas real and 'bout it so \"ooraah\" and they crackin'\n[01:33.49] If you going out tonight get your pistol and your rifle\n[01:36.34] Pray to the Father and sell your soul to the cycle\n[01:39.09] You coming, nigga? Listen, no bouncing, ain't no bitching\n[01:41.87] Cooking by the kitchen, flags and finger flipping\n[01:44.68] Living without growing, killing without blowing\n[01:47.28] This gang is a gun, it's either given or chosen\n[01:50.01] Trying to get the trigger strapped, trying to get these niggas back\n[01:52.73] Worst part of the deal it won't help bring our nigga back\n[01:55.77] Tell your babies that you love her, kiss your mama before you leave her\n[01:58.67] Hug her like you need her, 'case this is the last time you see her\n[02:01.86] Mama, don't cry for me (eh), Papa, don't feel bad\n[02:06.61] Code of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\n[02:11.14] So we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\n[02:17.22] You gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n[02:22.68] The streets are so slick, they're greasy, yes indeedy, feed the needy\n[02:25.91] Easy to murder if you're hungry or greedy, gang sets in graffiti\n[02:29.26] I mean, we mean like Idi Amin\n[02:31.09] I mean I finna' a track a treaty, take my warrants to Tahiti\n[02:34.03] Throw up your flags like soccer, nothing but war on TV\n[02:36.99] R.I.P Apache up in heaven in a platinum teepee\n[02:39.96] Aggressive is the message, no lessons without the effort\n[02:42.47] Bang bang, live by the gun, die by the gun, it's a flag thing\n[02:45.81] Mama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\n[02:50.78] Code of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\n[02:55.28] So we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\n[03:01.40] You gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n[03:07.81] Mama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\n[03:12.60] Code of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\n[03:17.23] So we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\n[03:23.70] You gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n[03:28.86] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Flags Feat. Balewa Muhammad\n  artist: Naughty By Nature; Balewa Muhammad\n  album: Anthem Inc.\n  duration_ms: 211000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Mama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\n  start_ms: 550\n  end_ms: 5090\n- text: Code of the streets that I gotta keep\n  start_ms: 5090\n  end_ms: 7820\n- text: They bang so we bang back\n  start_ms: 7820\n  end_ms: 9840\n- text: So I rep my hood, my city, my borough, thoroughly\n  start_ms: 9840\n  end_ms: 13980\n- text: That's all I have, yeah, oh, yeah\n  start_ms: 13980\n  end_ms: 21850\n- text: Father, if you're still listening\n  start_ms: 21850\n  end_ms: 23730\n- text: We hope our prayers make it up to heaven\n  start_ms: 23730\n  end_ms: 26440\n- text: And if we fall then we're not forgotten\n  start_ms: 26440\n  end_ms: 29380\n- text: Don't let our lil' brothers end up like we did\n  start_ms: 29380\n  end_ms: 32960\n- text: Let 'em grow up and get a job\n  start_ms: 32960\n  end_ms: 34750\n- text: Don't let 'em grow up behind bars, tryna be hard\n  start_ms: 34750\n  end_ms: 38180\n- text: Oh, Father, can you swiffen my feet?\n  start_ms: 38180\n  end_ms: 40430\n- text: Reppin' the wrong color on the wrong street with no heat\n  start_ms: 40430\n  end_ms: 43420\n- text: Rocking Dickies and Chukkas, bandannas, my brothers\n  start_ms: 43420\n  end_ms: 46620\n- text: Haters or lovers, we still got each other\n  start_ms: 46620\n  end_ms: 49350\n- text: We twist our hands up and pull our pants up\n  start_ms: 49350\n  end_ms: 52070\n- text: Walk this way throw your flag and your set-up\n  start_ms: 52070\n  end_ms: 55320\n- text: Mama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\n  start_ms: 55320\n  end_ms: 60120\n- text: Code of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\n  start_ms: 60120\n  end_ms: 64840\n- text: So we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\n  start_ms: 64840\n  end_ms: 71410\n- text: You gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n  start_ms: 71410\n  end_ms: 76480\n- text: I heard you mob and you're moody, you jacking for jewelry\n  start_ms: 76480\n  end_ms: 79720\n- text: You bangin' and beastin' with your tats and your toolies\n  start_ms: 79720\n  end_ms: 82430\n- text: Banging for bounty you're too young for the 90's\n  start_ms: 82430\n  end_ms: 85040\n- text: Were you dumping with the G-Reps or jumped-in in the county?\n  start_ms: 85040\n  end_ms: 88180\n- text: Shootin' by the roof and scrapin' is what's happenin'\n  start_ms: 88180\n  end_ms: 90950\n- text: Niggas real and 'bout it so \"ooraah\" and they crackin'\n  start_ms: 90950\n  end_ms: 93490\n- text: If you going out tonight get your pistol and your rifle\n  start_ms: 93490\n  end_ms: 96340\n- text: Pray to the Father and sell your soul to the cycle\n  start_ms: 96340\n  end_ms: 99090\n- text: You coming, nigga? Listen, no bouncing, ain't no bitching\n  start_ms: 99090\n  end_ms: 101870\n- text: Cooking by the kitchen, flags and finger flipping\n  start_ms: 101870\n  end_ms: 104680\n- text: Living without growing, killing without blowing\n  start_ms: 104680\n  end_ms: 107280\n- text: This gang is a gun, it's either given or chosen\n  start_ms: 107280\n  end_ms: 110010\n- text: Trying to get the trigger strapped, trying to get these niggas back\n  start_ms: 110010\n  end_ms: 112730\n- text: Worst part of the deal it won't help bring our nigga back\n  start_ms: 112730\n  end_ms: 115770\n- text: Tell your babies that you love her, kiss your mama before you leave her\n  start_ms: 115770\n  end_ms: 118670\n- text: Hug her like you need her, 'case this is the last time you see her\n  start_ms: 118670\n  end_ms: 121860\n- text: Mama, don't cry for me (eh), Papa, don't feel bad\n  start_ms: 121860\n  end_ms: 126610\n- text: Code of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\n  start_ms: 126610\n  end_ms: 131140\n- text: So we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\n  start_ms: 131140\n  end_ms: 137220\n- text: You gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n  start_ms: 137220\n  end_ms: 142680\n- text: The streets are so slick, they're greasy, yes indeedy, feed the needy\n  start_ms: 142680\n  end_ms: 145910\n- text: Easy to murder if you're hungry or greedy, gang sets in graffiti\n  start_ms: 145910\n  end_ms: 149260\n- text: I mean, we mean like Idi Amin\n  start_ms: 149260\n  end_ms: 151090\n- text: I mean I finna' a track a treaty, take my warrants to Tahiti\n  start_ms: 151090\n  end_ms: 154030\n- text: Throw up your flags like soccer, nothing but war on TV\n  start_ms: 154030\n  end_ms: 156990\n- text: R.I.P Apache up in heaven in a platinum teepee\n  start_ms: 156990\n  end_ms: 159960\n- text: Aggressive is the message, no lessons without the effort\n  start_ms: 159960\n  end_ms: 162470\n- text: Bang bang, live by the gun, die by the gun, it's a flag thing\n  start_ms: 162470\n  end_ms: 165810\n- text: Mama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\n  start_ms: 165810\n  end_ms: 170780\n- text: Code of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\n  start_ms: 170780\n  end_ms: 175280\n- text: So we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\n  start_ms: 175280\n  end_ms: 181400\n- text: You gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n  start_ms: 181400\n  end_ms: 187810\n- text: Mama, don't cry for me, Papa, don't feel bad\n  start_ms: 187810\n  end_ms: 192600\n- text: Code of the streets that we gotta keep, they bang so we bang back\n  start_ms: 192600\n  end_ms: 197230\n- text: So we rep our hood, our city, our borough, so thoroughly, that's all we have\n  start_ms: 197230\n  end_ms: 203700\n- text: You gotta cook beef or you don't eat, that's why we fly our flags\n  start_ms: 203700\n  end_ms: 208860\nplain: |-\n  Mama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad\n  Cold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back\n  So I rep my hood, my city, my borough, thorougly\n  That's all we have\n\n  Father if you still listening, we hope our prayers make it up to heaven,\n  If we fall then we're not forgotten don't let our lil' brothers end up like we did\n  Let them grow up and get a job\n  Don't let them grow up behind bars, trying to be hard\n  Oh, Father can you swiffen my feet\n  Repping the wrong colour on the wrong street with no heat\n  Rocking hickies and truckers, bandannas my brothers\n  My haters or lovers we still got each other\n  We twist our hands up and pull our pants up\n  Walk this way throw your flag and your setup\n\n  Mama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad\n  Cold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back\n  So I rep my hood, my city, my borough, my family thorougly\n  That's all we have\n  You gotta cook the beef or you don't eat\n  That's why we fly our flags\n\n  I heard you mob and you're moody, you jacking for jewellery\n  You banging and beasting with your tats and your toolies\n  Banging for bounty you're too young for the nineties,\n  Are you dumping with the G-Reps or jumping in the county\n  Shooting by the roof and scraping is what's happening,\n  Niggas real and 'bout it so [Gun Onomatopoeia] and they cracking\n  If you going out tonight get your pistol and your rifle\n  Pray to the father and sell your soul to the cycle\n  You coming nigga, listen no bouncing and no bitching\n  Cooking by the kitchen, flags and finger flipping\n  Living without growing, killing without blowing,\n  This gang is a gun it's either given or chosen\n  Trying to get the trigger strapped, trying to get these niggas back,\n  Worst part of the deal it won't help bring our nigga back\n  Tell your babies that you love her, kiss your mama before you leave her\n  Hug her like you need her, cause it might be the last time you might see her\n\n  The streets are so slick, they're greasy, as the needy feed the needy\n  Easy to murder if you're hungry or greedy, gang sets in grafitti,\n  I mean, we mean like Eeedie, I mean, I mean I finna' a track a treaty,\n  Take my warrants to Tahiti,\n  Throw up your flags like soccer, nothing but war on TV\n  R.I.P Appachi up in heaven in a platinum TP\n  Aggressive is the message, No lessons without the effort\n  Bang bang live by the gun, dye by the gun, it's a flag thing\n"}]