[{"id":2601859,"name":"Fuck Dat","trackName":"Fuck Dat","artistName":"Onyx","albumName":"Shut 'Em Down","duration":299.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo! Turn that shit up, word up!\nAfficial Nasty Niggas... Fuck Dat!\nYa niggas is dead-ass!\nKnow what I'm sayin'?\nWe're payin' my niggas ' All City 'n shit!\nWord up! Yo Mega, Fuck Dat!\nRip that Brooklyn shit nigga!\n\n[J. Mega, (\nWhat? What? What? What? What? What?\nMy fleet goals, by da creep cold\nWe blaze, y'all won't see those, you just feel 'em\nWe raise the states in this game, like helium\nThe new millenium, got me in mo' for killin' 'em\nGreen backs, I want a mil (of) 'em!\nBut don't minimum, strictly max out, the ol's put the black out\nNiggas be frontin', we take the back rob\nNow stay with that style, original, wanna act wild?\nCity puttin' cartracks out, as we stack now\nWe're nuthin' to match out, formula\nSee it clearly through my corner-ya\nThis goes out to niggas on the corner, Mega's on ya\nRap performer, no diploma, I'm sippin' on Corona, keep my carpet Coma\nThe East New York Soldier, what?\n(Fuck Dat! That's the All City shit!\nYo Greg Valentine!)\n\n[Greg Valentine, (Fredro Starr), {\nThe beats be Rushen like Patrice\nYou better had that bulletproof vest under ya fleece\nThen a clever sceam up ya slees, we has to say da least\nBetween the thugs and the police, shit'll never be peace\nCause holiday, raise ya weights ya hourly rate\nWe poly for higher states, buyin' fire escapes\nSee this, criminal life is like a 'roll it in dice'\nNiggas holdin' they ice, wild bust on a slice\nYo it's too often too hot, in this ghetto meldin' pot\nPut out these fagat ass niggas try to steel what I got\nAs if, that ain't enough, for Jakes is ratin' the spot\nWhere we eat at, but tonight that's where they bleed at\nThat belone her with the flame, throwin' their rain, it's over\nPrayed to Jehova, jiggaz up, the game's over\n(All City what, All City what?! Fuck Dat!\nYo Sticky) {wassup nigga?}(Come here nigga, Fuck Dat!\nLet these muthafuckaz know nigga!!!) {I want some NEW SHIT!}\n(Afficial Nast! What?!!)\n\n[Sticky Fingaz, (\nOh ooh, here the thug come, from out the dungeon\nSay goodbye to ya love one, you can't run from, the dum-dum\nKickin' WACK SHIT! I cut out ya tongue son!\nI'm in this rap shit for the lump sum\nHit the stage as soon as the blunt's done\nYOU DON'T WANT NONE! But regardless\nWe the wildest, you get demolished\nI muthafuckin', muthafuckin' murder, want charges!\nWalkin' targets, kill any rap artist!\nStill hate ya GUTS!, and hope that ya DIE!\nIf you not a ally, then yo ass gotta fry\nTwo lifes for a life without no remorse\nYou fucked up BIG TIME, you should've finished me off nigga!\n(What?! Fuck Dat! Fuck Dat!\nAfficial Nast what up?!\nYo Lefty, I got a new nigga for ya niggas!\nYo Fuck Dat! Step up and shit...)\n\n[Bubba Smith, (Fredro Starr), {X-\nI roll with gat-swingers, that bay arms like tanktops\nA bunch of problem bringers, that an ass bet ya wanna make your bank stop\nGuaranteed to make ya block hot, we runnin' the spots\nWe're tired of jizzle 'n rocks, we straight up fuckin' in villains or jachts\nGot the Big Apple on smash like mobbs, we're livin' hell really?!\nSo we just vanish 'n rob, paper tellin' me we all dyin' from a leg docs(?)\nSo fuck it, it's even get it get-got, so what?!\nBring it, I'm closin' now shut, I don't give a FUCK about gettin' popped\nThem thugs probably heard, left these two guns is al lot!\nIt's my time to go, playa, I'm tryin' to go spittin' you\nFor the dolies, niggas just press G-O\nWhile shoot outs, reachin' for the Glocks, on my way to gettin' drugs\nStill spittin' ya, 3-60 pill, I was drugged up, in a sixth still SHITTIN' ya\nCall it murder, besides anybody TRY to here missin'\n(Fuck Dat! Yo X -1 nigga!) {What nigga?}\n(Ya betta fuckin' do this shit nigga!) {What what, what, what?!}\n(Fuck Dat! Afficial Nasty Niggas!\nFuckin' takin' this streets! That niggas is dead!)\n\n[X-1, (\nAll you crack niggas, I don't even like your style\nIf it wasn't for love, you be dead right now\nSpeak upon the gun nor, X is layin' it down\nDirty two rounds, sprayin' ya town\nTakin' dirt back under the ground, be a man, take ya laws\nDie with the sacred course, six's bein' deep on the basic floors\n(They hate that shit nigga! What?!\nKick the our fuckin' shit! Fuck Dat!)\nBe a hard rock and see where you end up 'bout\nBefore my hart stops, kid I'm tryin' to see some jacks\nYou better get dropped dog, just read the facts\nDig a gunshot, at least about bringin' you back\nI run in cold spots, or walk that for liquid cats\nX critical source, with criminal thoughts, under the physical laws\nYour visual lost, X-million now, nigga tripple the course\nI cripple your boss, what?!!\n\n[Fredro &\nFuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\nFuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\nFuck Dat! Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\nFuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\nWord up! Fuckin' All City!\nMuthafuckin' Onyx!\nMuthafuckin' Fredro Starr talkin' to you nigga!\nFuckin' Sonsee nigga! What da fuck is up?!\nYo Sticky, wassup nigga?! Gangreen in this muthafucka!\nBubba Smith 'n shit! Back da fuck up, everybody up!!\nMy nigga too dirty up in this muthafucka! (Know what I'm sayin?!)\nDJ LS, Afficial Nast nigga! Fuck any DJ, yo Fuck Dat! (Any DJ nigga! Afficial Nast!)\nWord up, Fuck Dat! Niggas don't know! My muthafuckin' broher is sayin', Fuck Dat!\nBig Chris, Fuck Dat! Niggas ain't seein' shit! Afficial Nast! Yo eat 'em up!\nGet da fuck up outta here! (Car rushin' away)","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Fuck Dat\n artist: Onyx\n album: Shut 'Em Down\n duration_ms: 299000\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n Yo! Turn that shit up, word up!\n Afficial Nasty Niggas... Fuck Dat!\n Ya niggas is dead-ass!\n Know what I'm sayin'?\n We're payin' my niggas ' All City 'n shit!\n Word up! Yo Mega, Fuck Dat!\n Rip that Brooklyn shit nigga!\n\n [J. Mega, (\n What? What? What? What? What? What?\n My fleet goals, by da creep cold\n We blaze, y'all won't see those, you just feel 'em\n We raise the states in this game, like helium\n The new millenium, got me in mo' for killin' 'em\n Green backs, I want a mil (of) 'em!\n But don't minimum, strictly max out, the ol's put the black out\n Niggas be frontin', we take the back rob\n Now stay with that style, original, wanna act wild?\n City puttin' cartracks out, as we stack now\n We're nuthin' to match out, formula\n See it clearly through my corner-ya\n This goes out to niggas on the corner, Mega's on ya\n Rap performer, no diploma, I'm sippin' on Corona, keep my carpet Coma\n The East New York Soldier, what?\n (Fuck Dat! That's the All City shit!\n Yo Greg Valentine!)\n\n [Greg Valentine, (Fredro Starr), {\n The beats be Rushen like Patrice\n You better had that bulletproof vest under ya fleece\n Then a clever sceam up ya slees, we has to say da least\n Between the thugs and the police, shit'll never be peace\n Cause holiday, raise ya weights ya hourly rate\n We poly for higher states, buyin' fire escapes\n See this, criminal life is like a 'roll it in dice'\n Niggas holdin' they ice, wild bust on a slice\n Yo it's too often too hot, in this ghetto meldin' pot\n Put out these fagat ass niggas try to steel what I got\n As if, that ain't enough, for Jakes is ratin' the spot\n Where we eat at, but tonight that's where they bleed at\n That belone her with the flame, throwin' their rain, it's over\n Prayed to Jehova, jiggaz up, the game's over\n (All City what, All City what?! Fuck Dat!\n Yo Sticky) {wassup nigga?}(Come here nigga, Fuck Dat!\n Let these muthafuckaz know nigga!!!) {I want some NEW SHIT!}\n (Afficial Nast! What?!!)\n\n [Sticky Fingaz, (\n Oh ooh, here the thug come, from out the dungeon\n Say goodbye to ya love one, you can't run from, the dum-dum\n Kickin' WACK SHIT! I cut out ya tongue son!\n I'm in this rap shit for the lump sum\n Hit the stage as soon as the blunt's done\n YOU DON'T WANT NONE! But regardless\n We the wildest, you get demolished\n I muthafuckin', muthafuckin' murder, want charges!\n Walkin' targets, kill any rap artist!\n Still hate ya GUTS!, and hope that ya DIE!\n If you not a ally, then yo ass gotta fry\n Two lifes for a life without no remorse\n You fucked up BIG TIME, you should've finished me off nigga!\n (What?! Fuck Dat! Fuck Dat!\n Afficial Nast what up?!\n Yo Lefty, I got a new nigga for ya niggas!\n Yo Fuck Dat! Step up and shit...)\n\n [Bubba Smith, (Fredro Starr), {X-\n I roll with gat-swingers, that bay arms like tanktops\n A bunch of problem bringers, that an ass bet ya wanna make your bank stop\n Guaranteed to make ya block hot, we runnin' the spots\n We're tired of jizzle 'n rocks, we straight up fuckin' in villains or jachts\n Got the Big Apple on smash like mobbs, we're livin' hell really?!\n So we just vanish 'n rob, paper tellin' me we all dyin' from a leg docs(?)\n So fuck it, it's even get it get-got, so what?!\n Bring it, I'm closin' now shut, I don't give a FUCK about gettin' popped\n Them thugs probably heard, left these two guns is al lot!\n It's my time to go, playa, I'm tryin' to go spittin' you\n For the dolies, niggas just press G-O\n While shoot outs, reachin' for the Glocks, on my way to gettin' drugs\n Still spittin' ya, 3-60 pill, I was drugged up, in a sixth still SHITTIN' ya\n Call it murder, besides anybody TRY to here missin'\n (Fuck Dat! Yo X -1 nigga!) {What nigga?}\n (Ya betta fuckin' do this shit nigga!) {What what, what, what?!}\n (Fuck Dat! Afficial Nasty Niggas!\n Fuckin' takin' this streets! That niggas is dead!)\n\n [X-1, (\n All you crack niggas, I don't even like your style\n If it wasn't for love, you be dead right now\n Speak upon the gun nor, X is layin' it down\n Dirty two rounds, sprayin' ya town\n Takin' dirt back under the ground, be a man, take ya laws\n Die with the sacred course, six's bein' deep on the basic floors\n (They hate that shit nigga! What?!\n Kick the our fuckin' shit! Fuck Dat!)\n Be a hard rock and see where you end up 'bout\n Before my hart stops, kid I'm tryin' to see some jacks\n You better get dropped dog, just read the facts\n Dig a gunshot, at least about bringin' you back\n I run in cold spots, or walk that for liquid cats\n X critical source, with criminal thoughts, under the physical laws\n Your visual lost, X-million now, nigga tripple the course\n I cripple your boss, what?!!\n\n [Fredro &\n Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\n Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\n Fuck Dat! Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\n Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\n Word up! Fuckin' All City!\n Muthafuckin' Onyx!\n Muthafuckin' Fredro Starr talkin' to you nigga!\n Fuckin' Sonsee nigga! What da fuck is up?!\n Yo Sticky, wassup nigga?! Gangreen in this muthafucka!\n Bubba Smith 'n shit! Back da fuck up, everybody up!!\n My nigga too dirty up in this muthafucka! (Know what I'm sayin?!)\n DJ LS, Afficial Nast nigga! Fuck any DJ, yo Fuck Dat! (Any DJ nigga! Afficial Nast!)\n Word up, Fuck Dat! Niggas don't know! My muthafuckin' broher is sayin', Fuck Dat!\n Big Chris, Fuck Dat! Niggas ain't seein' shit! Afficial Nast! Yo eat 'em up!\n Get da fuck up outta here! (Car rushin' away)\n"},{"id":30788710,"name":"Fuck Dat","trackName":"Fuck Dat","artistName":"Onyx","albumName":"Survival of the Illest","duration":144.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo! Turn that shit up, word up!\nAfficial Nasty Niggas... Fuck Dat!\nYa niggas is dead-ass!\nKnow what I'm sayin'?\nWe're payin' my niggas ' All City 'n shit!\nWord up! Yo Mega, Fuck Dat!\nRip that Brooklyn shit nigga!\n\n[J. Mega, (\nWhat? What? What? What? What? What?\nMy fleet goals, by da creep cold\nWe blaze, y'all won't see those, you just feel 'em\nWe raise the states in this game, like helium\nThe new millenium, got me in mo' for killin' 'em\nGreen backs, I want a mil (of) 'em!\nBut don't minimum, strictly max out, the ol's put the black out\nNiggas be frontin', we take the back rob\nNow stay with that style, original, wanna act wild?\nCity puttin' cartracks out, as we stack now\nWe're nuthin' to match out, formula\nSee it clearly through my corner-ya\nThis goes out to niggas on the corner, Mega's on ya\nRap performer, no diploma, I'm sippin' on Corona, keep my carpet Coma\nThe East New York Soldier, what?\n(Fuck Dat! That's the All City shit!\nYo Greg Valentine!)\n\n[Greg Valentine, (Fredro Starr), {\nThe beats be Rushen like Patrice\nYou better had that bulletproof vest under ya fleece\nThen a clever sceam up ya slees, we has to say da least\nBetween the thugs and the police, shit'll never be peace\nCause holiday, raise ya weights ya hourly rate\nWe poly for higher states, buyin' fire escapes\nSee this, criminal life is like a 'roll it in dice'\nNiggas holdin' they ice, wild bust on a slice\nYo it's too often too hot, in this ghetto meldin' pot\nPut out these fagat ass niggas try to steel what I got\nAs if, that ain't enough, for Jakes is ratin' the spot\nWhere we eat at, but tonight that's where they bleed at\nThat belone her with the flame, throwin' their rain, it's over\nPrayed to Jehova, jiggaz up, the game's over\n(All City what, All City what?! Fuck Dat!\nYo Sticky) {wassup nigga?}(Come here nigga, Fuck Dat!\nLet these muthafuckaz know nigga!!!) {I want some NEW SHIT!}\n(Afficial Nast! What?!!)\n\n[Sticky Fingaz, (\nOh ooh, here the thug come, from out the dungeon\nSay goodbye to ya love one, you can't run from, the dum-dum\nKickin' WACK SHIT! I cut out ya tongue son!\nI'm in this rap shit for the lump sum\nHit the stage as soon as the blunt's done\nYOU DON'T WANT NONE! But regardless\nWe the wildest, you get demolished\nI muthafuckin', muthafuckin' murder, want charges!\nWalkin' targets, kill any rap artist!\nStill hate ya GUTS!, and hope that ya DIE!\nIf you not a ally, then yo ass gotta fry\nTwo lifes for a life without no remorse\nYou fucked up BIG TIME, you should've finished me off nigga!\n(What?! Fuck Dat! Fuck Dat!\nAfficial Nast what up?!\nYo Lefty, I got a new nigga for ya niggas!\nYo Fuck Dat! Step up and shit...)\n\n[Bubba Smith, (Fredro Starr), {X-\nI roll with gat-swingers, that bay arms like tanktops\nA bunch of problem bringers, that an ass bet ya wanna make your bank stop\nGuaranteed to make ya block hot, we runnin' the spots\nWe're tired of jizzle 'n rocks, we straight up fuckin' in villains or jachts\nGot the Big Apple on smash like mobbs, we're livin' hell really?!\nSo we just vanish 'n rob, paper tellin' me we all dyin' from a leg docs(?)\nSo fuck it, it's even get it get-got, so what?!\nBring it, I'm closin' now shut, I don't give a FUCK about gettin' popped\nThem thugs probably heard, left these two guns is al lot!\nIt's my time to go, playa, I'm tryin' to go spittin' you\nFor the dolies, niggas just press G-O\nWhile shoot outs, reachin' for the Glocks, on my way to gettin' drugs\nStill spittin' ya, 3-60 pill, I was drugged up, in a sixth still SHITTIN' ya\nCall it murder, besides anybody TRY to here missin'\n(Fuck Dat! Yo X -1 nigga!) {What nigga?}\n(Ya betta fuckin' do this shit nigga!) {What what, what, what?!}\n(Fuck Dat! Afficial Nasty Niggas!\nFuckin' takin' this streets! That niggas is dead!)\n\n[X-1, (\nAll you crack niggas, I don't even like your style\nIf it wasn't for love, you be dead right now\nSpeak upon the gun nor, X is layin' it down\nDirty two rounds, sprayin' ya town\nTakin' dirt back under the ground, be a man, take ya laws\nDie with the sacred course, six's bein' deep on the basic floors\n(They hate that shit nigga! What?!\nKick the our fuckin' shit! Fuck Dat!)\nBe a hard rock and see where you end up 'bout\nBefore my hart stops, kid I'm tryin' to see some jacks\nYou better get dropped dog, just read the facts\nDig a gunshot, at least about bringin' you back\nI run in cold spots, or walk that for liquid cats\nX critical source, with criminal thoughts, under the physical laws\nYour visual lost, X-million now, nigga tripple the course\nI cripple your boss, what?!!\n\n[Fredro &\nFuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\nFuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\nFuck Dat! Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\nFuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\nWord up! Fuckin' All City!\nMuthafuckin' Onyx!\nMuthafuckin' Fredro Starr talkin' to you nigga!\nFuckin' Sonsee nigga! What da fuck is up?!\nYo Sticky, wassup nigga?! Gangreen in this muthafucka!\nBubba Smith 'n shit! Back da fuck up, everybody up!!\nMy nigga too dirty up in this muthafucka! (Know what I'm sayin?!)\nDJ LS, Afficial Nast nigga! Fuck any DJ, yo Fuck Dat! (Any DJ nigga! Afficial Nast!)\nWord up, Fuck Dat! Niggas don't know! My muthafuckin' broher is sayin', Fuck Dat!\nBig Chris, Fuck Dat! Niggas ain't seein' shit! Afficial Nast! Yo eat 'em up!\nGet da fuck up outta here! (Car rushin' away)","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Fuck Dat\n artist: Onyx\n album: Survival of the Illest\n duration_ms: 144000\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n Yo! Turn that shit up, word up!\n Afficial Nasty Niggas... Fuck Dat!\n Ya niggas is dead-ass!\n Know what I'm sayin'?\n We're payin' my niggas ' All City 'n shit!\n Word up! Yo Mega, Fuck Dat!\n Rip that Brooklyn shit nigga!\n\n [J. Mega, (\n What? What? What? What? What? What?\n My fleet goals, by da creep cold\n We blaze, y'all won't see those, you just feel 'em\n We raise the states in this game, like helium\n The new millenium, got me in mo' for killin' 'em\n Green backs, I want a mil (of) 'em!\n But don't minimum, strictly max out, the ol's put the black out\n Niggas be frontin', we take the back rob\n Now stay with that style, original, wanna act wild?\n City puttin' cartracks out, as we stack now\n We're nuthin' to match out, formula\n See it clearly through my corner-ya\n This goes out to niggas on the corner, Mega's on ya\n Rap performer, no diploma, I'm sippin' on Corona, keep my carpet Coma\n The East New York Soldier, what?\n (Fuck Dat! That's the All City shit!\n Yo Greg Valentine!)\n\n [Greg Valentine, (Fredro Starr), {\n The beats be Rushen like Patrice\n You better had that bulletproof vest under ya fleece\n Then a clever sceam up ya slees, we has to say da least\n Between the thugs and the police, shit'll never be peace\n Cause holiday, raise ya weights ya hourly rate\n We poly for higher states, buyin' fire escapes\n See this, criminal life is like a 'roll it in dice'\n Niggas holdin' they ice, wild bust on a slice\n Yo it's too often too hot, in this ghetto meldin' pot\n Put out these fagat ass niggas try to steel what I got\n As if, that ain't enough, for Jakes is ratin' the spot\n Where we eat at, but tonight that's where they bleed at\n That belone her with the flame, throwin' their rain, it's over\n Prayed to Jehova, jiggaz up, the game's over\n (All City what, All City what?! Fuck Dat!\n Yo Sticky) {wassup nigga?}(Come here nigga, Fuck Dat!\n Let these muthafuckaz know nigga!!!) {I want some NEW SHIT!}\n (Afficial Nast! What?!!)\n\n [Sticky Fingaz, (\n Oh ooh, here the thug come, from out the dungeon\n Say goodbye to ya love one, you can't run from, the dum-dum\n Kickin' WACK SHIT! I cut out ya tongue son!\n I'm in this rap shit for the lump sum\n Hit the stage as soon as the blunt's done\n YOU DON'T WANT NONE! But regardless\n We the wildest, you get demolished\n I muthafuckin', muthafuckin' murder, want charges!\n Walkin' targets, kill any rap artist!\n Still hate ya GUTS!, and hope that ya DIE!\n If you not a ally, then yo ass gotta fry\n Two lifes for a life without no remorse\n You fucked up BIG TIME, you should've finished me off nigga!\n (What?! Fuck Dat! Fuck Dat!\n Afficial Nast what up?!\n Yo Lefty, I got a new nigga for ya niggas!\n Yo Fuck Dat! Step up and shit...)\n\n [Bubba Smith, (Fredro Starr), {X-\n I roll with gat-swingers, that bay arms like tanktops\n A bunch of problem bringers, that an ass bet ya wanna make your bank stop\n Guaranteed to make ya block hot, we runnin' the spots\n We're tired of jizzle 'n rocks, we straight up fuckin' in villains or jachts\n Got the Big Apple on smash like mobbs, we're livin' hell really?!\n So we just vanish 'n rob, paper tellin' me we all dyin' from a leg docs(?)\n So fuck it, it's even get it get-got, so what?!\n Bring it, I'm closin' now shut, I don't give a FUCK about gettin' popped\n Them thugs probably heard, left these two guns is al lot!\n It's my time to go, playa, I'm tryin' to go spittin' you\n For the dolies, niggas just press G-O\n While shoot outs, reachin' for the Glocks, on my way to gettin' drugs\n Still spittin' ya, 3-60 pill, I was drugged up, in a sixth still SHITTIN' ya\n Call it murder, besides anybody TRY to here missin'\n (Fuck Dat! Yo X -1 nigga!) {What nigga?}\n (Ya betta fuckin' do this shit nigga!) {What what, what, what?!}\n (Fuck Dat! Afficial Nasty Niggas!\n Fuckin' takin' this streets! That niggas is dead!)\n\n [X-1, (\n All you crack niggas, I don't even like your style\n If it wasn't for love, you be dead right now\n Speak upon the gun nor, X is layin' it down\n Dirty two rounds, sprayin' ya town\n Takin' dirt back under the ground, be a man, take ya laws\n Die with the sacred course, six's bein' deep on the basic floors\n (They hate that shit nigga! What?!\n Kick the our fuckin' shit! Fuck Dat!)\n Be a hard rock and see where you end up 'bout\n Before my hart stops, kid I'm tryin' to see some jacks\n You better get dropped dog, just read the facts\n Dig a gunshot, at least about bringin' you back\n I run in cold spots, or walk that for liquid cats\n X critical source, with criminal thoughts, under the physical laws\n Your visual lost, X-million now, nigga tripple the course\n I cripple your boss, what?!!\n\n [Fredro &\n Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\n Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\n Fuck Dat! Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\n Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\n Word up! Fuckin' All City!\n Muthafuckin' Onyx!\n Muthafuckin' Fredro Starr talkin' to you nigga!\n Fuckin' Sonsee nigga! What da fuck is up?!\n Yo Sticky, wassup nigga?! Gangreen in this muthafucka!\n Bubba Smith 'n shit! Back da fuck up, everybody up!!\n My nigga too dirty up in this muthafucka! (Know what I'm sayin?!)\n DJ LS, Afficial Nast nigga! Fuck any DJ, yo Fuck Dat! (Any DJ nigga! Afficial Nast!)\n Word up, Fuck Dat! Niggas don't know! My muthafuckin' broher is sayin', Fuck Dat!\n Big Chris, Fuck Dat! Niggas ain't seein' shit! Afficial Nast! Yo eat 'em up!\n Get da fuck up outta here! (Car rushin' away)\n"},{"id":27777043,"name":"Fuck Dat","trackName":"Fuck Dat","artistName":"Onyx","albumName":"Shut 'Em Down","duration":270.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo! Turn that shit up, word up!\nAfficial Nasty Niggas... Fuck Dat!\nYa niggas is dead-ass!\nKnow what I'm sayin'?\nWe're payin' my niggas ' All City 'n shit!\nWord up! Yo Mega, Fuck Dat!\nRip that Brooklyn shit nigga!\n\n[J. Mega, (\nWhat? What? What? What? What? What?\nMy fleet goals, by da creep cold\nWe blaze, y'all won't see those, you just feel 'em\nWe raise the states in this game, like helium\nThe new millenium, got me in mo' for killin' 'em\nGreen backs, I want a mil (of) 'em!\nBut don't minimum, strictly max out, the ol's put the black out\nNiggas be frontin', we take the back rob\nNow stay with that style, original, wanna act wild?\nCity puttin' cartracks out, as we stack now\nWe're nuthin' to match out, formula\nSee it clearly through my corner-ya\nThis goes out to niggas on the corner, Mega's on ya\nRap performer, no diploma, I'm sippin' on Corona, keep my carpet Coma\nThe East New York Soldier, what?\n(Fuck Dat! That's the All City shit!\nYo Greg Valentine!)\n\n[Greg Valentine, (Fredro Starr), {\nThe beats be Rushen like Patrice\nYou better had that bulletproof vest under ya fleece\nThen a clever sceam up ya slees, we has to say da least\nBetween the thugs and the police, shit'll never be peace\nCause holiday, raise ya weights ya hourly rate\nWe poly for higher states, buyin' fire escapes\nSee this, criminal life is like a 'roll it in dice'\nNiggas holdin' they ice, wild bust on a slice\nYo it's too often too hot, in this ghetto meldin' pot\nPut out these fagat ass niggas try to steel what I got\nAs if, that ain't enough, for Jakes is ratin' the spot\nWhere we eat at, but tonight that's where they bleed at\nThat belone her with the flame, throwin' their rain, it's over\nPrayed to Jehova, jiggaz up, the game's over\n(All City what, All City what?! Fuck Dat!\nYo Sticky) {wassup nigga?}(Come here nigga, Fuck Dat!\nLet these muthafuckaz know nigga!!!) {I want some NEW SHIT!}\n(Afficial Nast! What?!!)\n\n[Sticky Fingaz, (\nOh ooh, here the thug come, from out the dungeon\nSay goodbye to ya love one, you can't run from, the dum-dum\nKickin' WACK SHIT! I cut out ya tongue son!\nI'm in this rap shit for the lump sum\nHit the stage as soon as the blunt's done\nYOU DON'T WANT NONE! But regardless\nWe the wildest, you get demolished\nI muthafuckin', muthafuckin' murder, want charges!\nWalkin' targets, kill any rap artist!\nStill hate ya GUTS!, and hope that ya DIE!\nIf you not a ally, then yo ass gotta fry\nTwo lifes for a life without no remorse\nYou fucked up BIG TIME, you should've finished me off nigga!\n(What?! Fuck Dat! Fuck Dat!\nAfficial Nast what up?!\nYo Lefty, I got a new nigga for ya niggas!\nYo Fuck Dat! Step up and shit...)\n\n[Bubba Smith, (Fredro Starr), {X-\nI roll with gat-swingers, that bay arms like tanktops\nA bunch of problem bringers, that an ass bet ya wanna make your bank stop\nGuaranteed to make ya block hot, we runnin' the spots\nWe're tired of jizzle 'n rocks, we straight up fuckin' in villains or jachts\nGot the Big Apple on smash like mobbs, we're livin' hell really?!\nSo we just vanish 'n rob, paper tellin' me we all dyin' from a leg docs(?)\nSo fuck it, it's even get it get-got, so what?!\nBring it, I'm closin' now shut, I don't give a FUCK about gettin' popped\nThem thugs probably heard, left these two guns is al lot!\nIt's my time to go, playa, I'm tryin' to go spittin' you\nFor the dolies, niggas just press G-O\nWhile shoot outs, reachin' for the Glocks, on my way to gettin' drugs\nStill spittin' ya, 3-60 pill, I was drugged up, in a sixth still SHITTIN' ya\nCall it murder, besides anybody TRY to here missin'\n(Fuck Dat! Yo X -1 nigga!) {What nigga?}\n(Ya betta fuckin' do this shit nigga!) {What what, what, what?!}\n(Fuck Dat! Afficial Nasty Niggas!\nFuckin' takin' this streets! That niggas is dead!)\n\n[X-1, (\nAll you crack niggas, I don't even like your style\nIf it wasn't for love, you be dead right now\nSpeak upon the gun nor, X is layin' it down\nDirty two rounds, sprayin' ya town\nTakin' dirt back under the ground, be a man, take ya laws\nDie with the sacred course, six's bein' deep on the basic floors\n(They hate that shit nigga! What?!\nKick the our fuckin' shit! Fuck Dat!)\nBe a hard rock and see where you end up 'bout\nBefore my hart stops, kid I'm tryin' to see some jacks\nYou better get dropped dog, just read the facts\nDig a gunshot, at least about bringin' you back\nI run in cold spots, or walk that for liquid cats\nX critical source, with criminal thoughts, under the physical laws\nYour visual lost, X-million now, nigga tripple the course\nI cripple your boss, what?!!\n\n[Fredro &\nFuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\nFuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\nFuck Dat! Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\nFuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\nWord up! Fuckin' All City!\nMuthafuckin' Onyx!\nMuthafuckin' Fredro Starr talkin' to you nigga!\nFuckin' Sonsee nigga! What da fuck is up?!\nYo Sticky, wassup nigga?! Gangreen in this muthafucka!\nBubba Smith 'n shit! Back da fuck up, everybody up!!\nMy nigga too dirty up in this muthafucka! (Know what I'm sayin?!)\nDJ LS, Afficial Nast nigga! Fuck any DJ, yo Fuck Dat! (Any DJ nigga! Afficial Nast!)\nWord up, Fuck Dat! Niggas don't know! My muthafuckin' broher is sayin', Fuck Dat!\nBig Chris, Fuck Dat! Niggas ain't seein' shit! Afficial Nast! Yo eat 'em up!\nGet da fuck up outta here! (Car rushin' away)","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Fuck Dat\n artist: Onyx\n album: Shut 'Em Down\n duration_ms: 270000\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n Yo! Turn that shit up, word up!\n Afficial Nasty Niggas... Fuck Dat!\n Ya niggas is dead-ass!\n Know what I'm sayin'?\n We're payin' my niggas ' All City 'n shit!\n Word up! Yo Mega, Fuck Dat!\n Rip that Brooklyn shit nigga!\n\n [J. Mega, (\n What? What? What? What? What? What?\n My fleet goals, by da creep cold\n We blaze, y'all won't see those, you just feel 'em\n We raise the states in this game, like helium\n The new millenium, got me in mo' for killin' 'em\n Green backs, I want a mil (of) 'em!\n But don't minimum, strictly max out, the ol's put the black out\n Niggas be frontin', we take the back rob\n Now stay with that style, original, wanna act wild?\n City puttin' cartracks out, as we stack now\n We're nuthin' to match out, formula\n See it clearly through my corner-ya\n This goes out to niggas on the corner, Mega's on ya\n Rap performer, no diploma, I'm sippin' on Corona, keep my carpet Coma\n The East New York Soldier, what?\n (Fuck Dat! That's the All City shit!\n Yo Greg Valentine!)\n\n [Greg Valentine, (Fredro Starr), {\n The beats be Rushen like Patrice\n You better had that bulletproof vest under ya fleece\n Then a clever sceam up ya slees, we has to say da least\n Between the thugs and the police, shit'll never be peace\n Cause holiday, raise ya weights ya hourly rate\n We poly for higher states, buyin' fire escapes\n See this, criminal life is like a 'roll it in dice'\n Niggas holdin' they ice, wild bust on a slice\n Yo it's too often too hot, in this ghetto meldin' pot\n Put out these fagat ass niggas try to steel what I got\n As if, that ain't enough, for Jakes is ratin' the spot\n Where we eat at, but tonight that's where they bleed at\n That belone her with the flame, throwin' their rain, it's over\n Prayed to Jehova, jiggaz up, the game's over\n (All City what, All City what?! Fuck Dat!\n Yo Sticky) {wassup nigga?}(Come here nigga, Fuck Dat!\n Let these muthafuckaz know nigga!!!) {I want some NEW SHIT!}\n (Afficial Nast! What?!!)\n\n [Sticky Fingaz, (\n Oh ooh, here the thug come, from out the dungeon\n Say goodbye to ya love one, you can't run from, the dum-dum\n Kickin' WACK SHIT! I cut out ya tongue son!\n I'm in this rap shit for the lump sum\n Hit the stage as soon as the blunt's done\n YOU DON'T WANT NONE! But regardless\n We the wildest, you get demolished\n I muthafuckin', muthafuckin' murder, want charges!\n Walkin' targets, kill any rap artist!\n Still hate ya GUTS!, and hope that ya DIE!\n If you not a ally, then yo ass gotta fry\n Two lifes for a life without no remorse\n You fucked up BIG TIME, you should've finished me off nigga!\n (What?! Fuck Dat! Fuck Dat!\n Afficial Nast what up?!\n Yo Lefty, I got a new nigga for ya niggas!\n Yo Fuck Dat! Step up and shit...)\n\n [Bubba Smith, (Fredro Starr), {X-\n I roll with gat-swingers, that bay arms like tanktops\n A bunch of problem bringers, that an ass bet ya wanna make your bank stop\n Guaranteed to make ya block hot, we runnin' the spots\n We're tired of jizzle 'n rocks, we straight up fuckin' in villains or jachts\n Got the Big Apple on smash like mobbs, we're livin' hell really?!\n So we just vanish 'n rob, paper tellin' me we all dyin' from a leg docs(?)\n So fuck it, it's even get it get-got, so what?!\n Bring it, I'm closin' now shut, I don't give a FUCK about gettin' popped\n Them thugs probably heard, left these two guns is al lot!\n It's my time to go, playa, I'm tryin' to go spittin' you\n For the dolies, niggas just press G-O\n While shoot outs, reachin' for the Glocks, on my way to gettin' drugs\n Still spittin' ya, 3-60 pill, I was drugged up, in a sixth still SHITTIN' ya\n Call it murder, besides anybody TRY to here missin'\n (Fuck Dat! Yo X -1 nigga!) {What nigga?}\n (Ya betta fuckin' do this shit nigga!) {What what, what, what?!}\n (Fuck Dat! Afficial Nasty Niggas!\n Fuckin' takin' this streets! That niggas is dead!)\n\n [X-1, (\n All you crack niggas, I don't even like your style\n If it wasn't for love, you be dead right now\n Speak upon the gun nor, X is layin' it down\n Dirty two rounds, sprayin' ya town\n Takin' dirt back under the ground, be a man, take ya laws\n Die with the sacred course, six's bein' deep on the basic floors\n (They hate that shit nigga! What?!\n Kick the our fuckin' shit! Fuck Dat!)\n Be a hard rock and see where you end up 'bout\n Before my hart stops, kid I'm tryin' to see some jacks\n You better get dropped dog, just read the facts\n Dig a gunshot, at least about bringin' you back\n I run in cold spots, or walk that for liquid cats\n X critical source, with criminal thoughts, under the physical laws\n Your visual lost, X-million now, nigga tripple the course\n I cripple your boss, what?!!\n\n [Fredro &\n Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\n Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\n Fuck Dat! Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\n Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\n Word up! Fuckin' All City!\n Muthafuckin' Onyx!\n Muthafuckin' Fredro Starr talkin' to you nigga!\n Fuckin' Sonsee nigga! What da fuck is up?!\n Yo Sticky, wassup nigga?! Gangreen in this muthafucka!\n Bubba Smith 'n shit! Back da fuck up, everybody up!!\n My nigga too dirty up in this muthafucka! (Know what I'm sayin?!)\n DJ LS, Afficial Nast nigga! Fuck any DJ, yo Fuck Dat! (Any DJ nigga! Afficial Nast!)\n Word up, Fuck Dat! Niggas don't know! My muthafuckin' broher is sayin', Fuck Dat!\n Big Chris, Fuck Dat! Niggas ain't seein' shit! Afficial Nast! Yo eat 'em up!\n Get da fuck up outta here! (Car rushin' away)\n"},{"id":2601858,"name":"Fuck Dat","trackName":"Fuck Dat","artistName":"Onyx, X-1, Bubba Smith, JMega, Greg Valentine & Sunshine","albumName":"Shut 'Em Down","duration":299.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo! Turn that shit up, word up!\nAfficial Nasty Niggas... Fuck Dat!\nYa niggas is dead-ass!\nKnow what I'm sayin'?\nWe're payin' my niggas ' All City 'n shit!\nWord up! Yo Mega, Fuck Dat!\nRip that Brooklyn shit nigga!\n\n[J. Mega, (\nWhat? What? What? What? What? What?\nMy fleet goals, by da creep cold\nWe blaze, y'all won't see those, you just feel 'em\nWe raise the states in this game, like helium\nThe new millenium, got me in mo' for killin' 'em\nGreen backs, I want a mil (of) 'em!\nBut don't minimum, strictly max out, the ol's put the black out\nNiggas be frontin', we take the back rob\nNow stay with that style, original, wanna act wild?\nCity puttin' cartracks out, as we stack now\nWe're nuthin' to match out, formula\nSee it clearly through my corner-ya\nThis goes out to niggas on the corner, Mega's on ya\nRap performer, no diploma, I'm sippin' on Corona, keep my carpet Coma\nThe East New York Soldier, what?\n(Fuck Dat! That's the All City shit!\nYo Greg Valentine!)\n\n[Greg Valentine, (Fredro Starr), {\nThe beats be Rushen like Patrice\nYou better had that bulletproof vest under ya fleece\nThen a clever sceam up ya slees, we has to say da least\nBetween the thugs and the police, shit'll never be peace\nCause holiday, raise ya weights ya hourly rate\nWe poly for higher states, buyin' fire escapes\nSee this, criminal life is like a 'roll it in dice'\nNiggas holdin' they ice, wild bust on a slice\nYo it's too often too hot, in this ghetto meldin' pot\nPut out these fagat ass niggas try to steel what I got\nAs if, that ain't enough, for Jakes is ratin' the spot\nWhere we eat at, but tonight that's where they bleed at\nThat belone her with the flame, throwin' their rain, it's over\nPrayed to Jehova, jiggaz up, the game's over\n(All City what, All City what?! Fuck Dat!\nYo Sticky) {wassup nigga?}(Come here nigga, Fuck Dat!\nLet these muthafuckaz know nigga!!!) {I want some NEW SHIT!}\n(Afficial Nast! What?!!)\n\n[Sticky Fingaz, (\nOh ooh, here the thug come, from out the dungeon\nSay goodbye to ya love one, you can't run from, the dum-dum\nKickin' WACK SHIT! I cut out ya tongue son!\nI'm in this rap shit for the lump sum\nHit the stage as soon as the blunt's done\nYOU DON'T WANT NONE! But regardless\nWe the wildest, you get demolished\nI muthafuckin', muthafuckin' murder, want charges!\nWalkin' targets, kill any rap artist!\nStill hate ya GUTS!, and hope that ya DIE!\nIf you not a ally, then yo ass gotta fry\nTwo lifes for a life without no remorse\nYou fucked up BIG TIME, you should've finished me off nigga!\n(What?! Fuck Dat! Fuck Dat!\nAfficial Nast what up?!\nYo Lefty, I got a new nigga for ya niggas!\nYo Fuck Dat! Step up and shit...)\n\n[Bubba Smith, (Fredro Starr), {X-\nI roll with gat-swingers, that bay arms like tanktops\nA bunch of problem bringers, that an ass bet ya wanna make your bank stop\nGuaranteed to make ya block hot, we runnin' the spots\nWe're tired of jizzle 'n rocks, we straight up fuckin' in villains or jachts\nGot the Big Apple on smash like mobbs, we're livin' hell really?!\nSo we just vanish 'n rob, paper tellin' me we all dyin' from a leg docs(?)\nSo fuck it, it's even get it get-got, so what?!\nBring it, I'm closin' now shut, I don't give a FUCK about gettin' popped\nThem thugs probably heard, left these two guns is al lot!\nIt's my time to go, playa, I'm tryin' to go spittin' you\nFor the dolies, niggas just press G-O\nWhile shoot outs, reachin' for the Glocks, on my way to gettin' drugs\nStill spittin' ya, 3-60 pill, I was drugged up, in a sixth still SHITTIN' ya\nCall it murder, besides anybody TRY to here missin'\n(Fuck Dat! Yo X -1 nigga!) {What nigga?}\n(Ya betta fuckin' do this shit nigga!) {What what, what, what?!}\n(Fuck Dat! Afficial Nasty Niggas!\nFuckin' takin' this streets! That niggas is dead!)\n\n[X-1, (\nAll you crack niggas, I don't even like your style\nIf it wasn't for love, you be dead right now\nSpeak upon the gun nor, X is layin' it down\nDirty two rounds, sprayin' ya town\nTakin' dirt back under the ground, be a man, take ya laws\nDie with the sacred course, six's bein' deep on the basic floors\n(They hate that shit nigga! What?!\nKick the our fuckin' shit! Fuck Dat!)\nBe a hard rock and see where you end up 'bout\nBefore my hart stops, kid I'm tryin' to see some jacks\nYou better get dropped dog, just read the facts\nDig a gunshot, at least about bringin' you back\nI run in cold spots, or walk that for liquid cats\nX critical source, with criminal thoughts, under the physical laws\nYour visual lost, X-million now, nigga tripple the course\nI cripple your boss, what?!!\n\n[Fredro &\nFuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\nFuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\nFuck Dat! Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\nFuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\nWord up! Fuckin' All City!\nMuthafuckin' Onyx!\nMuthafuckin' Fredro Starr talkin' to you nigga!\nFuckin' Sonsee nigga! What da fuck is up?!\nYo Sticky, wassup nigga?! Gangreen in this muthafucka!\nBubba Smith 'n shit! Back da fuck up, everybody up!!\nMy nigga too dirty up in this muthafucka! (Know what I'm sayin?!)\nDJ LS, Afficial Nast nigga! Fuck any DJ, yo Fuck Dat! (Any DJ nigga! Afficial Nast!)\nWord up, Fuck Dat! Niggas don't know! My muthafuckin' broher is sayin', Fuck Dat!\nBig Chris, Fuck Dat! Niggas ain't seein' shit! Afficial Nast! Yo eat 'em up!\nGet da fuck up outta here! (Car rushin' away)","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Fuck Dat\n artist: Onyx, X-1, Bubba Smith, JMega, Greg Valentine & Sunshine\n album: Shut 'Em Down\n duration_ms: 299000\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n Yo! Turn that shit up, word up!\n Afficial Nasty Niggas... Fuck Dat!\n Ya niggas is dead-ass!\n Know what I'm sayin'?\n We're payin' my niggas ' All City 'n shit!\n Word up! Yo Mega, Fuck Dat!\n Rip that Brooklyn shit nigga!\n\n [J. Mega, (\n What? What? What? What? What? What?\n My fleet goals, by da creep cold\n We blaze, y'all won't see those, you just feel 'em\n We raise the states in this game, like helium\n The new millenium, got me in mo' for killin' 'em\n Green backs, I want a mil (of) 'em!\n But don't minimum, strictly max out, the ol's put the black out\n Niggas be frontin', we take the back rob\n Now stay with that style, original, wanna act wild?\n City puttin' cartracks out, as we stack now\n We're nuthin' to match out, formula\n See it clearly through my corner-ya\n This goes out to niggas on the corner, Mega's on ya\n Rap performer, no diploma, I'm sippin' on Corona, keep my carpet Coma\n The East New York Soldier, what?\n (Fuck Dat! That's the All City shit!\n Yo Greg Valentine!)\n\n [Greg Valentine, (Fredro Starr), {\n The beats be Rushen like Patrice\n You better had that bulletproof vest under ya fleece\n Then a clever sceam up ya slees, we has to say da least\n Between the thugs and the police, shit'll never be peace\n Cause holiday, raise ya weights ya hourly rate\n We poly for higher states, buyin' fire escapes\n See this, criminal life is like a 'roll it in dice'\n Niggas holdin' they ice, wild bust on a slice\n Yo it's too often too hot, in this ghetto meldin' pot\n Put out these fagat ass niggas try to steel what I got\n As if, that ain't enough, for Jakes is ratin' the spot\n Where we eat at, but tonight that's where they bleed at\n That belone her with the flame, throwin' their rain, it's over\n Prayed to Jehova, jiggaz up, the game's over\n (All City what, All City what?! Fuck Dat!\n Yo Sticky) {wassup nigga?}(Come here nigga, Fuck Dat!\n Let these muthafuckaz know nigga!!!) {I want some NEW SHIT!}\n (Afficial Nast! What?!!)\n\n [Sticky Fingaz, (\n Oh ooh, here the thug come, from out the dungeon\n Say goodbye to ya love one, you can't run from, the dum-dum\n Kickin' WACK SHIT! I cut out ya tongue son!\n I'm in this rap shit for the lump sum\n Hit the stage as soon as the blunt's done\n YOU DON'T WANT NONE! But regardless\n We the wildest, you get demolished\n I muthafuckin', muthafuckin' murder, want charges!\n Walkin' targets, kill any rap artist!\n Still hate ya GUTS!, and hope that ya DIE!\n If you not a ally, then yo ass gotta fry\n Two lifes for a life without no remorse\n You fucked up BIG TIME, you should've finished me off nigga!\n (What?! Fuck Dat! Fuck Dat!\n Afficial Nast what up?!\n Yo Lefty, I got a new nigga for ya niggas!\n Yo Fuck Dat! Step up and shit...)\n\n [Bubba Smith, (Fredro Starr), {X-\n I roll with gat-swingers, that bay arms like tanktops\n A bunch of problem bringers, that an ass bet ya wanna make your bank stop\n Guaranteed to make ya block hot, we runnin' the spots\n We're tired of jizzle 'n rocks, we straight up fuckin' in villains or jachts\n Got the Big Apple on smash like mobbs, we're livin' hell really?!\n So we just vanish 'n rob, paper tellin' me we all dyin' from a leg docs(?)\n So fuck it, it's even get it get-got, so what?!\n Bring it, I'm closin' now shut, I don't give a FUCK about gettin' popped\n Them thugs probably heard, left these two guns is al lot!\n It's my time to go, playa, I'm tryin' to go spittin' you\n For the dolies, niggas just press G-O\n While shoot outs, reachin' for the Glocks, on my way to gettin' drugs\n Still spittin' ya, 3-60 pill, I was drugged up, in a sixth still SHITTIN' ya\n Call it murder, besides anybody TRY to here missin'\n (Fuck Dat! Yo X -1 nigga!) {What nigga?}\n (Ya betta fuckin' do this shit nigga!) {What what, what, what?!}\n (Fuck Dat! Afficial Nasty Niggas!\n Fuckin' takin' this streets! That niggas is dead!)\n\n [X-1, (\n All you crack niggas, I don't even like your style\n If it wasn't for love, you be dead right now\n Speak upon the gun nor, X is layin' it down\n Dirty two rounds, sprayin' ya town\n Takin' dirt back under the ground, be a man, take ya laws\n Die with the sacred course, six's bein' deep on the basic floors\n (They hate that shit nigga! What?!\n Kick the our fuckin' shit! Fuck Dat!)\n Be a hard rock and see where you end up 'bout\n Before my hart stops, kid I'm tryin' to see some jacks\n You better get dropped dog, just read the facts\n Dig a gunshot, at least about bringin' you back\n I run in cold spots, or walk that for liquid cats\n X critical source, with criminal thoughts, under the physical laws\n Your visual lost, X-million now, nigga tripple the course\n I cripple your boss, what?!!\n\n [Fredro &\n Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\n Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\n Fuck Dat! Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\n Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\n Word up! Fuckin' All City!\n Muthafuckin' Onyx!\n Muthafuckin' Fredro Starr talkin' to you nigga!\n Fuckin' Sonsee nigga! What da fuck is up?!\n Yo Sticky, wassup nigga?! Gangreen in this muthafucka!\n Bubba Smith 'n shit! Back da fuck up, everybody up!!\n My nigga too dirty up in this muthafucka! (Know what I'm sayin?!)\n DJ LS, Afficial Nast nigga! Fuck any DJ, yo Fuck Dat! (Any DJ nigga! Afficial Nast!)\n Word up, Fuck Dat! Niggas don't know! My muthafuckin' broher is sayin', Fuck Dat!\n Big Chris, Fuck Dat! Niggas ain't seein' shit! Afficial Nast! Yo eat 'em up!\n Get da fuck up outta here! (Car rushin' away)\n"},{"id":6306890,"name":"Fuck Dat","trackName":"Fuck Dat","artistName":"Onyx, X-1, Bubba Smith, J Mega, Greg Valentine & Sunshine","albumName":"Shut 'Em Down","duration":299.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo! Turn that shit up, word up!\nAfficial Nasty Niggas... Fuck Dat!\nYa niggas is dead-ass!\nKnow what I'm sayin'?\nWe're payin' my niggas ' All City 'n shit!\nWord up! Yo Mega, Fuck Dat!\nRip that Brooklyn shit nigga!\n\n[J. Mega, (\nWhat? What? What? What? What? What?\nMy fleet goals, by da creep cold\nWe blaze, y'all won't see those, you just feel 'em\nWe raise the states in this game, like helium\nThe new millenium, got me in mo' for killin' 'em\nGreen backs, I want a mil (of) 'em!\nBut don't minimum, strictly max out, the ol's put the black out\nNiggas be frontin', we take the back rob\nNow stay with that style, original, wanna act wild?\nCity puttin' cartracks out, as we stack now\nWe're nuthin' to match out, formula\nSee it clearly through my corner-ya\nThis goes out to niggas on the corner, Mega's on ya\nRap performer, no diploma, I'm sippin' on Corona, keep my carpet Coma\nThe East New York Soldier, what?\n(Fuck Dat! That's the All City shit!\nYo Greg Valentine!)\n\n[Greg Valentine, (Fredro Starr), {\nThe beats be Rushen like Patrice\nYou better had that bulletproof vest under ya fleece\nThen a clever sceam up ya slees, we has to say da least\nBetween the thugs and the police, shit'll never be peace\nCause holiday, raise ya weights ya hourly rate\nWe poly for higher states, buyin' fire escapes\nSee this, criminal life is like a 'roll it in dice'\nNiggas holdin' they ice, wild bust on a slice\nYo it's too often too hot, in this ghetto meldin' pot\nPut out these fagat ass niggas try to steel what I got\nAs if, that ain't enough, for Jakes is ratin' the spot\nWhere we eat at, but tonight that's where they bleed at\nThat belone her with the flame, throwin' their rain, it's over\nPrayed to Jehova, jiggaz up, the game's over\n(All City what, All City what?! Fuck Dat!\nYo Sticky) {wassup nigga?}(Come here nigga, Fuck Dat!\nLet these muthafuckaz know nigga!!!) {I want some NEW SHIT!}\n(Afficial Nast! What?!!)\n\n[Sticky Fingaz, (\nOh ooh, here the thug come, from out the dungeon\nSay goodbye to ya love one, you can't run from, the dum-dum\nKickin' WACK SHIT! I cut out ya tongue son!\nI'm in this rap shit for the lump sum\nHit the stage as soon as the blunt's done\nYOU DON'T WANT NONE! But regardless\nWe the wildest, you get demolished\nI muthafuckin', muthafuckin' murder, want charges!\nWalkin' targets, kill any rap artist!\nStill hate ya GUTS!, and hope that ya DIE!\nIf you not a ally, then yo ass gotta fry\nTwo lifes for a life without no remorse\nYou fucked up BIG TIME, you should've finished me off nigga!\n(What?! Fuck Dat! Fuck Dat!\nAfficial Nast what up?!\nYo Lefty, I got a new nigga for ya niggas!\nYo Fuck Dat! Step up and shit...)\n\n[Bubba Smith, (Fredro Starr), {X-\nI roll with gat-swingers, that bay arms like tanktops\nA bunch of problem bringers, that an ass bet ya wanna make your bank stop\nGuaranteed to make ya block hot, we runnin' the spots\nWe're tired of jizzle 'n rocks, we straight up fuckin' in villains or jachts\nGot the Big Apple on smash like mobbs, we're livin' hell really?!\nSo we just vanish 'n rob, paper tellin' me we all dyin' from a leg docs(?)\nSo fuck it, it's even get it get-got, so what?!\nBring it, I'm closin' now shut, I don't give a FUCK about gettin' popped\nThem thugs probably heard, left these two guns is al lot!\nIt's my time to go, playa, I'm tryin' to go spittin' you\nFor the dolies, niggas just press G-O\nWhile shoot outs, reachin' for the Glocks, on my way to gettin' drugs\nStill spittin' ya, 3-60 pill, I was drugged up, in a sixth still SHITTIN' ya\nCall it murder, besides anybody TRY to here missin'\n(Fuck Dat! Yo X -1 nigga!) {What nigga?}\n(Ya betta fuckin' do this shit nigga!) {What what, what, what?!}\n(Fuck Dat! Afficial Nasty Niggas!\nFuckin' takin' this streets! That niggas is dead!)\n\n[X-1, (\nAll you crack niggas, I don't even like your style\nIf it wasn't for love, you be dead right now\nSpeak upon the gun nor, X is layin' it down\nDirty two rounds, sprayin' ya town\nTakin' dirt back under the ground, be a man, take ya laws\nDie with the sacred course, six's bein' deep on the basic floors\n(They hate that shit nigga! What?!\nKick the our fuckin' shit! Fuck Dat!)\nBe a hard rock and see where you end up 'bout\nBefore my hart stops, kid I'm tryin' to see some jacks\nYou better get dropped dog, just read the facts\nDig a gunshot, at least about bringin' you back\nI run in cold spots, or walk that for liquid cats\nX critical source, with criminal thoughts, under the physical laws\nYour visual lost, X-million now, nigga tripple the course\nI cripple your boss, what?!!\n\n[Fredro &\nFuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\nFuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\nFuck Dat! Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\nFuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\nWord up! Fuckin' All City!\nMuthafuckin' Onyx!\nMuthafuckin' Fredro Starr talkin' to you nigga!\nFuckin' Sonsee nigga! What da fuck is up?!\nYo Sticky, wassup nigga?! Gangreen in this muthafucka!\nBubba Smith 'n shit! Back da fuck up, everybody up!!\nMy nigga too dirty up in this muthafucka! (Know what I'm sayin?!)\nDJ LS, Afficial Nast nigga! Fuck any DJ, yo Fuck Dat! (Any DJ nigga! Afficial Nast!)\nWord up, Fuck Dat! Niggas don't know! My muthafuckin' broher is sayin', Fuck Dat!\nBig Chris, Fuck Dat! Niggas ain't seein' shit! Afficial Nast! Yo eat 'em up!\nGet da fuck up outta here! (Car rushin' away)","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Fuck Dat\n artist: Onyx, X-1, Bubba Smith, J Mega, Greg Valentine & Sunshine\n album: Shut 'Em Down\n duration_ms: 299000\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n Yo! Turn that shit up, word up!\n Afficial Nasty Niggas... Fuck Dat!\n Ya niggas is dead-ass!\n Know what I'm sayin'?\n We're payin' my niggas ' All City 'n shit!\n Word up! Yo Mega, Fuck Dat!\n Rip that Brooklyn shit nigga!\n\n [J. Mega, (\n What? What? What? What? What? What?\n My fleet goals, by da creep cold\n We blaze, y'all won't see those, you just feel 'em\n We raise the states in this game, like helium\n The new millenium, got me in mo' for killin' 'em\n Green backs, I want a mil (of) 'em!\n But don't minimum, strictly max out, the ol's put the black out\n Niggas be frontin', we take the back rob\n Now stay with that style, original, wanna act wild?\n City puttin' cartracks out, as we stack now\n We're nuthin' to match out, formula\n See it clearly through my corner-ya\n This goes out to niggas on the corner, Mega's on ya\n Rap performer, no diploma, I'm sippin' on Corona, keep my carpet Coma\n The East New York Soldier, what?\n (Fuck Dat! That's the All City shit!\n Yo Greg Valentine!)\n\n [Greg Valentine, (Fredro Starr), {\n The beats be Rushen like Patrice\n You better had that bulletproof vest under ya fleece\n Then a clever sceam up ya slees, we has to say da least\n Between the thugs and the police, shit'll never be peace\n Cause holiday, raise ya weights ya hourly rate\n We poly for higher states, buyin' fire escapes\n See this, criminal life is like a 'roll it in dice'\n Niggas holdin' they ice, wild bust on a slice\n Yo it's too often too hot, in this ghetto meldin' pot\n Put out these fagat ass niggas try to steel what I got\n As if, that ain't enough, for Jakes is ratin' the spot\n Where we eat at, but tonight that's where they bleed at\n That belone her with the flame, throwin' their rain, it's over\n Prayed to Jehova, jiggaz up, the game's over\n (All City what, All City what?! Fuck Dat!\n Yo Sticky) {wassup nigga?}(Come here nigga, Fuck Dat!\n Let these muthafuckaz know nigga!!!) {I want some NEW SHIT!}\n (Afficial Nast! What?!!)\n\n [Sticky Fingaz, (\n Oh ooh, here the thug come, from out the dungeon\n Say goodbye to ya love one, you can't run from, the dum-dum\n Kickin' WACK SHIT! I cut out ya tongue son!\n I'm in this rap shit for the lump sum\n Hit the stage as soon as the blunt's done\n YOU DON'T WANT NONE! But regardless\n We the wildest, you get demolished\n I muthafuckin', muthafuckin' murder, want charges!\n Walkin' targets, kill any rap artist!\n Still hate ya GUTS!, and hope that ya DIE!\n If you not a ally, then yo ass gotta fry\n Two lifes for a life without no remorse\n You fucked up BIG TIME, you should've finished me off nigga!\n (What?! Fuck Dat! Fuck Dat!\n Afficial Nast what up?!\n Yo Lefty, I got a new nigga for ya niggas!\n Yo Fuck Dat! Step up and shit...)\n\n [Bubba Smith, (Fredro Starr), {X-\n I roll with gat-swingers, that bay arms like tanktops\n A bunch of problem bringers, that an ass bet ya wanna make your bank stop\n Guaranteed to make ya block hot, we runnin' the spots\n We're tired of jizzle 'n rocks, we straight up fuckin' in villains or jachts\n Got the Big Apple on smash like mobbs, we're livin' hell really?!\n So we just vanish 'n rob, paper tellin' me we all dyin' from a leg docs(?)\n So fuck it, it's even get it get-got, so what?!\n Bring it, I'm closin' now shut, I don't give a FUCK about gettin' popped\n Them thugs probably heard, left these two guns is al lot!\n It's my time to go, playa, I'm tryin' to go spittin' you\n For the dolies, niggas just press G-O\n While shoot outs, reachin' for the Glocks, on my way to gettin' drugs\n Still spittin' ya, 3-60 pill, I was drugged up, in a sixth still SHITTIN' ya\n Call it murder, besides anybody TRY to here missin'\n (Fuck Dat! Yo X -1 nigga!) {What nigga?}\n (Ya betta fuckin' do this shit nigga!) {What what, what, what?!}\n (Fuck Dat! Afficial Nasty Niggas!\n Fuckin' takin' this streets! That niggas is dead!)\n\n [X-1, (\n All you crack niggas, I don't even like your style\n If it wasn't for love, you be dead right now\n Speak upon the gun nor, X is layin' it down\n Dirty two rounds, sprayin' ya town\n Takin' dirt back under the ground, be a man, take ya laws\n Die with the sacred course, six's bein' deep on the basic floors\n (They hate that shit nigga! What?!\n Kick the our fuckin' shit! Fuck Dat!)\n Be a hard rock and see where you end up 'bout\n Before my hart stops, kid I'm tryin' to see some jacks\n You better get dropped dog, just read the facts\n Dig a gunshot, at least about bringin' you back\n I run in cold spots, or walk that for liquid cats\n X critical source, with criminal thoughts, under the physical laws\n Your visual lost, X-million now, nigga tripple the course\n I cripple your boss, what?!!\n\n [Fredro &\n Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\n Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\n Fuck Dat! Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\n Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\n Word up! Fuckin' All City!\n Muthafuckin' Onyx!\n Muthafuckin' Fredro Starr talkin' to you nigga!\n Fuckin' Sonsee nigga! What da fuck is up?!\n Yo Sticky, wassup nigga?! Gangreen in this muthafucka!\n Bubba Smith 'n shit! Back da fuck up, everybody up!!\n My nigga too dirty up in this muthafucka! (Know what I'm sayin?!)\n DJ LS, Afficial Nast nigga! Fuck any DJ, yo Fuck Dat! (Any DJ nigga! Afficial Nast!)\n Word up, Fuck Dat! Niggas don't know! My muthafuckin' broher is sayin', Fuck Dat!\n Big Chris, Fuck Dat! Niggas ain't seein' shit! Afficial Nast! Yo eat 'em up!\n Get da fuck up outta here! (Car rushin' away)\n"},{"id":29422087,"name":"Fuck Dat (Ft. X-1, Bubba Smith, All City & Sunshine)","trackName":"Fuck Dat (Ft. X-1, Bubba Smith, All City & Sunshine)","artistName":"Onyx","albumName":"Shut 'Em Down","duration":299.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo! Turn that shit up, word up!\nAfficial Nasty Niggas... Fuck Dat!\nYa niggas is dead-ass!\nKnow what I'm sayin'?\nWe're payin' my niggas ' All City 'n shit!\nWord up! Yo Mega, Fuck Dat!\nRip that Brooklyn shit nigga!\n\n[J. Mega, (\nWhat? What? What? What? What? What?\nMy fleet goals, by da creep cold\nWe blaze, y'all won't see those, you just feel 'em\nWe raise the states in this game, like helium\nThe new millenium, got me in mo' for killin' 'em\nGreen backs, I want a mil (of) 'em!\nBut don't minimum, strictly max out, the ol's put the black out\nNiggas be frontin', we take the back rob\nNow stay with that style, original, wanna act wild?\nCity puttin' cartracks out, as we stack now\nWe're nuthin' to match out, formula\nSee it clearly through my corner-ya\nThis goes out to niggas on the corner, Mega's on ya\nRap performer, no diploma, I'm sippin' on Corona, keep my carpet Coma\nThe East New York Soldier, what?\n(Fuck Dat! That's the All City shit!\nYo Greg Valentine!)\n\n[Greg Valentine, (Fredro Starr), {\nThe beats be Rushen like Patrice\nYou better had that bulletproof vest under ya fleece\nThen a clever sceam up ya slees, we has to say da least\nBetween the thugs and the police, shit'll never be peace\nCause holiday, raise ya weights ya hourly rate\nWe poly for higher states, buyin' fire escapes\nSee this, criminal life is like a 'roll it in dice'\nNiggas holdin' they ice, wild bust on a slice\nYo it's too often too hot, in this ghetto meldin' pot\nPut out these fagat ass niggas try to steel what I got\nAs if, that ain't enough, for Jakes is ratin' the spot\nWhere we eat at, but tonight that's where they bleed at\nThat belone her with the flame, throwin' their rain, it's over\nPrayed to Jehova, jiggaz up, the game's over\n(All City what, All City what?! Fuck Dat!\nYo Sticky) {wassup nigga?}(Come here nigga, Fuck Dat!\nLet these muthafuckaz know nigga!!!) {I want some NEW SHIT!}\n(Afficial Nast! What?!!)\n\n[Sticky Fingaz, (\nOh ooh, here the thug come, from out the dungeon\nSay goodbye to ya love one, you can't run from, the dum-dum\nKickin' WACK SHIT! I cut out ya tongue son!\nI'm in this rap shit for the lump sum\nHit the stage as soon as the blunt's done\nYOU DON'T WANT NONE! But regardless\nWe the wildest, you get demolished\nI muthafuckin', muthafuckin' murder, want charges!\nWalkin' targets, kill any rap artist!\nStill hate ya GUTS!, and hope that ya DIE!\nIf you not a ally, then yo ass gotta fry\nTwo lifes for a life without no remorse\nYou fucked up BIG TIME, you should've finished me off nigga!\n(What?! Fuck Dat! Fuck Dat!\nAfficial Nast what up?!\nYo Lefty, I got a new nigga for ya niggas!\nYo Fuck Dat! Step up and shit...)\n\n[Bubba Smith, (Fredro Starr), {X-\nI roll with gat-swingers, that bay arms like tanktops\nA bunch of problem bringers, that an ass bet ya wanna make your bank stop\nGuaranteed to make ya block hot, we runnin' the spots\nWe're tired of jizzle 'n rocks, we straight up fuckin' in villains or jachts\nGot the Big Apple on smash like mobbs, we're livin' hell really?!\nSo we just vanish 'n rob, paper tellin' me we all dyin' from a leg docs(?)\nSo fuck it, it's even get it get-got, so what?!\nBring it, I'm closin' now shut, I don't give a FUCK about gettin' popped\nThem thugs probably heard, left these two guns is al lot!\nIt's my time to go, playa, I'm tryin' to go spittin' you\nFor the dolies, niggas just press G-O\nWhile shoot outs, reachin' for the Glocks, on my way to gettin' drugs\nStill spittin' ya, 3-60 pill, I was drugged up, in a sixth still SHITTIN' ya\nCall it murder, besides anybody TRY to here missin'\n(Fuck Dat! Yo X -1 nigga!) {What nigga?}\n(Ya betta fuckin' do this shit nigga!) {What what, what, what?!}\n(Fuck Dat! Afficial Nasty Niggas!\nFuckin' takin' this streets! That niggas is dead!)\n\n[X-1, (\nAll you crack niggas, I don't even like your style\nIf it wasn't for love, you be dead right now\nSpeak upon the gun nor, X is layin' it down\nDirty two rounds, sprayin' ya town\nTakin' dirt back under the ground, be a man, take ya laws\nDie with the sacred course, six's bein' deep on the basic floors\n(They hate that shit nigga! What?!\nKick the our fuckin' shit! Fuck Dat!)\nBe a hard rock and see where you end up 'bout\nBefore my hart stops, kid I'm tryin' to see some jacks\nYou better get dropped dog, just read the facts\nDig a gunshot, at least about bringin' you back\nI run in cold spots, or walk that for liquid cats\nX critical source, with criminal thoughts, under the physical laws\nYour visual lost, X-million now, nigga tripple the course\nI cripple your boss, what?!!\n\n[Fredro &\nFuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\nFuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\nFuck Dat! Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\nFuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\nWord up! Fuckin' All City!\nMuthafuckin' Onyx!\nMuthafuckin' Fredro Starr talkin' to you nigga!\nFuckin' Sonsee nigga! What da fuck is up?!\nYo Sticky, wassup nigga?! Gangreen in this muthafucka!\nBubba Smith 'n shit! Back da fuck up, everybody up!!\nMy nigga too dirty up in this muthafucka! (Know what I'm sayin?!)\nDJ LS, Afficial Nast nigga! Fuck any DJ, yo Fuck Dat! (Any DJ nigga! Afficial Nast!)\nWord up, Fuck Dat! Niggas don't know! My muthafuckin' broher is sayin', Fuck Dat!\nBig Chris, Fuck Dat! Niggas ain't seein' shit! Afficial Nast! Yo eat 'em up!\nGet da fuck up outta here! (Car rushin' away)","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Fuck Dat (Ft. X-1, Bubba Smith, All City & Sunshine)\n artist: Onyx\n album: Shut 'Em Down\n duration_ms: 299000\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n Yo! Turn that shit up, word up!\n Afficial Nasty Niggas... Fuck Dat!\n Ya niggas is dead-ass!\n Know what I'm sayin'?\n We're payin' my niggas ' All City 'n shit!\n Word up! Yo Mega, Fuck Dat!\n Rip that Brooklyn shit nigga!\n\n [J. Mega, (\n What? What? What? What? What? What?\n My fleet goals, by da creep cold\n We blaze, y'all won't see those, you just feel 'em\n We raise the states in this game, like helium\n The new millenium, got me in mo' for killin' 'em\n Green backs, I want a mil (of) 'em!\n But don't minimum, strictly max out, the ol's put the black out\n Niggas be frontin', we take the back rob\n Now stay with that style, original, wanna act wild?\n City puttin' cartracks out, as we stack now\n We're nuthin' to match out, formula\n See it clearly through my corner-ya\n This goes out to niggas on the corner, Mega's on ya\n Rap performer, no diploma, I'm sippin' on Corona, keep my carpet Coma\n The East New York Soldier, what?\n (Fuck Dat! That's the All City shit!\n Yo Greg Valentine!)\n\n [Greg Valentine, (Fredro Starr), {\n The beats be Rushen like Patrice\n You better had that bulletproof vest under ya fleece\n Then a clever sceam up ya slees, we has to say da least\n Between the thugs and the police, shit'll never be peace\n Cause holiday, raise ya weights ya hourly rate\n We poly for higher states, buyin' fire escapes\n See this, criminal life is like a 'roll it in dice'\n Niggas holdin' they ice, wild bust on a slice\n Yo it's too often too hot, in this ghetto meldin' pot\n Put out these fagat ass niggas try to steel what I got\n As if, that ain't enough, for Jakes is ratin' the spot\n Where we eat at, but tonight that's where they bleed at\n That belone her with the flame, throwin' their rain, it's over\n Prayed to Jehova, jiggaz up, the game's over\n (All City what, All City what?! Fuck Dat!\n Yo Sticky) {wassup nigga?}(Come here nigga, Fuck Dat!\n Let these muthafuckaz know nigga!!!) {I want some NEW SHIT!}\n (Afficial Nast! What?!!)\n\n [Sticky Fingaz, (\n Oh ooh, here the thug come, from out the dungeon\n Say goodbye to ya love one, you can't run from, the dum-dum\n Kickin' WACK SHIT! I cut out ya tongue son!\n I'm in this rap shit for the lump sum\n Hit the stage as soon as the blunt's done\n YOU DON'T WANT NONE! But regardless\n We the wildest, you get demolished\n I muthafuckin', muthafuckin' murder, want charges!\n Walkin' targets, kill any rap artist!\n Still hate ya GUTS!, and hope that ya DIE!\n If you not a ally, then yo ass gotta fry\n Two lifes for a life without no remorse\n You fucked up BIG TIME, you should've finished me off nigga!\n (What?! Fuck Dat! Fuck Dat!\n Afficial Nast what up?!\n Yo Lefty, I got a new nigga for ya niggas!\n Yo Fuck Dat! Step up and shit...)\n\n [Bubba Smith, (Fredro Starr), {X-\n I roll with gat-swingers, that bay arms like tanktops\n A bunch of problem bringers, that an ass bet ya wanna make your bank stop\n Guaranteed to make ya block hot, we runnin' the spots\n We're tired of jizzle 'n rocks, we straight up fuckin' in villains or jachts\n Got the Big Apple on smash like mobbs, we're livin' hell really?!\n So we just vanish 'n rob, paper tellin' me we all dyin' from a leg docs(?)\n So fuck it, it's even get it get-got, so what?!\n Bring it, I'm closin' now shut, I don't give a FUCK about gettin' popped\n Them thugs probably heard, left these two guns is al lot!\n It's my time to go, playa, I'm tryin' to go spittin' you\n For the dolies, niggas just press G-O\n While shoot outs, reachin' for the Glocks, on my way to gettin' drugs\n Still spittin' ya, 3-60 pill, I was drugged up, in a sixth still SHITTIN' ya\n Call it murder, besides anybody TRY to here missin'\n (Fuck Dat! Yo X -1 nigga!) {What nigga?}\n (Ya betta fuckin' do this shit nigga!) {What what, what, what?!}\n (Fuck Dat! Afficial Nasty Niggas!\n Fuckin' takin' this streets! That niggas is dead!)\n\n [X-1, (\n All you crack niggas, I don't even like your style\n If it wasn't for love, you be dead right now\n Speak upon the gun nor, X is layin' it down\n Dirty two rounds, sprayin' ya town\n Takin' dirt back under the ground, be a man, take ya laws\n Die with the sacred course, six's bein' deep on the basic floors\n (They hate that shit nigga! What?!\n Kick the our fuckin' shit! Fuck Dat!)\n Be a hard rock and see where you end up 'bout\n Before my hart stops, kid I'm tryin' to see some jacks\n You better get dropped dog, just read the facts\n Dig a gunshot, at least about bringin' you back\n I run in cold spots, or walk that for liquid cats\n X critical source, with criminal thoughts, under the physical laws\n Your visual lost, X-million now, nigga tripple the course\n I cripple your boss, what?!!\n\n [Fredro &\n Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\n Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\n Fuck Dat! Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\n Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\n Word up! Fuckin' All City!\n Muthafuckin' Onyx!\n Muthafuckin' Fredro Starr talkin' to you nigga!\n Fuckin' Sonsee nigga! What da fuck is up?!\n Yo Sticky, wassup nigga?! Gangreen in this muthafucka!\n Bubba Smith 'n shit! Back da fuck up, everybody up!!\n My nigga too dirty up in this muthafucka! (Know what I'm sayin?!)\n DJ LS, Afficial Nast nigga! Fuck any DJ, yo Fuck Dat! (Any DJ nigga! Afficial Nast!)\n Word up, Fuck Dat! Niggas don't know! My muthafuckin' broher is sayin', Fuck Dat!\n Big Chris, Fuck Dat! Niggas ain't seein' shit! Afficial Nast! Yo eat 'em up!\n Get da fuck up outta here! (Car rushin' away)\n"},{"id":14610951,"name":"Fuck Dat (feat. X1, Bubba Smith, J Mega, Greg Valentine & Sunshine)","trackName":"Fuck Dat (feat. X1, Bubba Smith, J Mega, Greg Valentine & Sunshine)","artistName":"Onyx","albumName":"Shut 'Em Down","duration":299.02,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo! Turn that shit up, word up!\nAfficial Nasty Niggas... Fuck Dat!\nYa niggas is dead-ass!\nKnow what I'm sayin'?\nWe're payin' my niggas ' All City 'n shit!\nWord up! Yo Mega, Fuck Dat!\nRip that Brooklyn shit nigga!\n\n[J. Mega, (\nWhat? What? What? What? What? What?\nMy fleet goals, by da creep cold\nWe blaze, y'all won't see those, you just feel 'em\nWe raise the states in this game, like helium\nThe new millenium, got me in mo' for killin' 'em\nGreen backs, I want a mil (of) 'em!\nBut don't minimum, strictly max out, the ol's put the black out\nNiggas be frontin', we take the back rob\nNow stay with that style, original, wanna act wild?\nCity puttin' cartracks out, as we stack now\nWe're nuthin' to match out, formula\nSee it clearly through my corner-ya\nThis goes out to niggas on the corner, Mega's on ya\nRap performer, no diploma, I'm sippin' on Corona, keep my carpet Coma\nThe East New York Soldier, what?\n(Fuck Dat! That's the All City shit!\nYo Greg Valentine!)\n\n[Greg Valentine, (Fredro Starr), {\nThe beats be Rushen like Patrice\nYou better had that bulletproof vest under ya fleece\nThen a clever sceam up ya slees, we has to say da least\nBetween the thugs and the police, shit'll never be peace\nCause holiday, raise ya weights ya hourly rate\nWe poly for higher states, buyin' fire escapes\nSee this, criminal life is like a 'roll it in dice'\nNiggas holdin' they ice, wild bust on a slice\nYo it's too often too hot, in this ghetto meldin' pot\nPut out these fagat ass niggas try to steel what I got\nAs if, that ain't enough, for Jakes is ratin' the spot\nWhere we eat at, but tonight that's where they bleed at\nThat belone her with the flame, throwin' their rain, it's over\nPrayed to Jehova, jiggaz up, the game's over\n(All City what, All City what?! Fuck Dat!\nYo Sticky) {wassup nigga?}(Come here nigga, Fuck Dat!\nLet these muthafuckaz know nigga!!!) {I want some NEW SHIT!}\n(Afficial Nast! What?!!)\n\n[Sticky Fingaz, (\nOh ooh, here the thug come, from out the dungeon\nSay goodbye to ya love one, you can't run from, the dum-dum\nKickin' WACK SHIT! I cut out ya tongue son!\nI'm in this rap shit for the lump sum\nHit the stage as soon as the blunt's done\nYOU DON'T WANT NONE! But regardless\nWe the wildest, you get demolished\nI muthafuckin', muthafuckin' murder, want charges!\nWalkin' targets, kill any rap artist!\nStill hate ya GUTS!, and hope that ya DIE!\nIf you not a ally, then yo ass gotta fry\nTwo lifes for a life without no remorse\nYou fucked up BIG TIME, you should've finished me off nigga!\n(What?! Fuck Dat! Fuck Dat!\nAfficial Nast what up?!\nYo Lefty, I got a new nigga for ya niggas!\nYo Fuck Dat! Step up and shit...)\n\n[Bubba Smith, (Fredro Starr), {X-\nI roll with gat-swingers, that bay arms like tanktops\nA bunch of problem bringers, that an ass bet ya wanna make your bank stop\nGuaranteed to make ya block hot, we runnin' the spots\nWe're tired of jizzle 'n rocks, we straight up fuckin' in villains or jachts\nGot the Big Apple on smash like mobbs, we're livin' hell really?!\nSo we just vanish 'n rob, paper tellin' me we all dyin' from a leg docs(?)\nSo fuck it, it's even get it get-got, so what?!\nBring it, I'm closin' now shut, I don't give a FUCK about gettin' popped\nThem thugs probably heard, left these two guns is al lot!\nIt's my time to go, playa, I'm tryin' to go spittin' you\nFor the dolies, niggas just press G-O\nWhile shoot outs, reachin' for the Glocks, on my way to gettin' drugs\nStill spittin' ya, 3-60 pill, I was drugged up, in a sixth still SHITTIN' ya\nCall it murder, besides anybody TRY to here missin'\n(Fuck Dat! Yo X -1 nigga!) {What nigga?}\n(Ya betta fuckin' do this shit nigga!) {What what, what, what?!}\n(Fuck Dat! Afficial Nasty Niggas!\nFuckin' takin' this streets! That niggas is dead!)\n\n[X-1, (\nAll you crack niggas, I don't even like your style\nIf it wasn't for love, you be dead right now\nSpeak upon the gun nor, X is layin' it down\nDirty two rounds, sprayin' ya town\nTakin' dirt back under the ground, be a man, take ya laws\nDie with the sacred course, six's bein' deep on the basic floors\n(They hate that shit nigga! What?!\nKick the our fuckin' shit! Fuck Dat!)\nBe a hard rock and see where you end up 'bout\nBefore my hart stops, kid I'm tryin' to see some jacks\nYou better get dropped dog, just read the facts\nDig a gunshot, at least about bringin' you back\nI run in cold spots, or walk that for liquid cats\nX critical source, with criminal thoughts, under the physical laws\nYour visual lost, X-million now, nigga tripple the course\nI cripple your boss, what?!!\n\n[Fredro &\nFuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\nFuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\nFuck Dat! Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\nFuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\nWord up! Fuckin' All City!\nMuthafuckin' Onyx!\nMuthafuckin' Fredro Starr talkin' to you nigga!\nFuckin' Sonsee nigga! What da fuck is up?!\nYo Sticky, wassup nigga?! Gangreen in this muthafucka!\nBubba Smith 'n shit! Back da fuck up, everybody up!!\nMy nigga too dirty up in this muthafucka! (Know what I'm sayin?!)\nDJ LS, Afficial Nast nigga! Fuck any DJ, yo Fuck Dat! (Any DJ nigga! Afficial Nast!)\nWord up, Fuck Dat! Niggas don't know! My muthafuckin' broher is sayin', Fuck Dat!\nBig Chris, Fuck Dat! Niggas ain't seein' shit! Afficial Nast! Yo eat 'em up!\nGet da fuck up outta here! (Car rushin' away)","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Fuck Dat (feat. X1, Bubba Smith, J Mega, Greg Valentine & Sunshine)\n artist: Onyx\n album: Shut 'Em Down\n duration_ms: 299020\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n Yo! Turn that shit up, word up!\n Afficial Nasty Niggas... Fuck Dat!\n Ya niggas is dead-ass!\n Know what I'm sayin'?\n We're payin' my niggas ' All City 'n shit!\n Word up! Yo Mega, Fuck Dat!\n Rip that Brooklyn shit nigga!\n\n [J. Mega, (\n What? What? What? What? What? What?\n My fleet goals, by da creep cold\n We blaze, y'all won't see those, you just feel 'em\n We raise the states in this game, like helium\n The new millenium, got me in mo' for killin' 'em\n Green backs, I want a mil (of) 'em!\n But don't minimum, strictly max out, the ol's put the black out\n Niggas be frontin', we take the back rob\n Now stay with that style, original, wanna act wild?\n City puttin' cartracks out, as we stack now\n We're nuthin' to match out, formula\n See it clearly through my corner-ya\n This goes out to niggas on the corner, Mega's on ya\n Rap performer, no diploma, I'm sippin' on Corona, keep my carpet Coma\n The East New York Soldier, what?\n (Fuck Dat! That's the All City shit!\n Yo Greg Valentine!)\n\n [Greg Valentine, (Fredro Starr), {\n The beats be Rushen like Patrice\n You better had that bulletproof vest under ya fleece\n Then a clever sceam up ya slees, we has to say da least\n Between the thugs and the police, shit'll never be peace\n Cause holiday, raise ya weights ya hourly rate\n We poly for higher states, buyin' fire escapes\n See this, criminal life is like a 'roll it in dice'\n Niggas holdin' they ice, wild bust on a slice\n Yo it's too often too hot, in this ghetto meldin' pot\n Put out these fagat ass niggas try to steel what I got\n As if, that ain't enough, for Jakes is ratin' the spot\n Where we eat at, but tonight that's where they bleed at\n That belone her with the flame, throwin' their rain, it's over\n Prayed to Jehova, jiggaz up, the game's over\n (All City what, All City what?! Fuck Dat!\n Yo Sticky) {wassup nigga?}(Come here nigga, Fuck Dat!\n Let these muthafuckaz know nigga!!!) {I want some NEW SHIT!}\n (Afficial Nast! What?!!)\n\n [Sticky Fingaz, (\n Oh ooh, here the thug come, from out the dungeon\n Say goodbye to ya love one, you can't run from, the dum-dum\n Kickin' WACK SHIT! I cut out ya tongue son!\n I'm in this rap shit for the lump sum\n Hit the stage as soon as the blunt's done\n YOU DON'T WANT NONE! But regardless\n We the wildest, you get demolished\n I muthafuckin', muthafuckin' murder, want charges!\n Walkin' targets, kill any rap artist!\n Still hate ya GUTS!, and hope that ya DIE!\n If you not a ally, then yo ass gotta fry\n Two lifes for a life without no remorse\n You fucked up BIG TIME, you should've finished me off nigga!\n (What?! Fuck Dat! Fuck Dat!\n Afficial Nast what up?!\n Yo Lefty, I got a new nigga for ya niggas!\n Yo Fuck Dat! Step up and shit...)\n\n [Bubba Smith, (Fredro Starr), {X-\n I roll with gat-swingers, that bay arms like tanktops\n A bunch of problem bringers, that an ass bet ya wanna make your bank stop\n Guaranteed to make ya block hot, we runnin' the spots\n We're tired of jizzle 'n rocks, we straight up fuckin' in villains or jachts\n Got the Big Apple on smash like mobbs, we're livin' hell really?!\n So we just vanish 'n rob, paper tellin' me we all dyin' from a leg docs(?)\n So fuck it, it's even get it get-got, so what?!\n Bring it, I'm closin' now shut, I don't give a FUCK about gettin' popped\n Them thugs probably heard, left these two guns is al lot!\n It's my time to go, playa, I'm tryin' to go spittin' you\n For the dolies, niggas just press G-O\n While shoot outs, reachin' for the Glocks, on my way to gettin' drugs\n Still spittin' ya, 3-60 pill, I was drugged up, in a sixth still SHITTIN' ya\n Call it murder, besides anybody TRY to here missin'\n (Fuck Dat! Yo X -1 nigga!) {What nigga?}\n (Ya betta fuckin' do this shit nigga!) {What what, what, what?!}\n (Fuck Dat! Afficial Nasty Niggas!\n Fuckin' takin' this streets! That niggas is dead!)\n\n [X-1, (\n All you crack niggas, I don't even like your style\n If it wasn't for love, you be dead right now\n Speak upon the gun nor, X is layin' it down\n Dirty two rounds, sprayin' ya town\n Takin' dirt back under the ground, be a man, take ya laws\n Die with the sacred course, six's bein' deep on the basic floors\n (They hate that shit nigga! What?!\n Kick the our fuckin' shit! Fuck Dat!)\n Be a hard rock and see where you end up 'bout\n Before my hart stops, kid I'm tryin' to see some jacks\n You better get dropped dog, just read the facts\n Dig a gunshot, at least about bringin' you back\n I run in cold spots, or walk that for liquid cats\n X critical source, with criminal thoughts, under the physical laws\n Your visual lost, X-million now, nigga tripple the course\n I cripple your boss, what?!!\n\n [Fredro &\n Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\n Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\n Fuck Dat! Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\n Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\n Word up! Fuckin' All City!\n Muthafuckin' Onyx!\n Muthafuckin' Fredro Starr talkin' to you nigga!\n Fuckin' Sonsee nigga! What da fuck is up?!\n Yo Sticky, wassup nigga?! Gangreen in this muthafucka!\n Bubba Smith 'n shit! Back da fuck up, everybody up!!\n My nigga too dirty up in this muthafucka! (Know what I'm sayin?!)\n DJ LS, Afficial Nast nigga! Fuck any DJ, yo Fuck Dat! (Any DJ nigga! Afficial Nast!)\n Word up, Fuck Dat! Niggas don't know! My muthafuckin' broher is sayin', Fuck Dat!\n Big Chris, Fuck Dat! Niggas ain't seein' shit! Afficial Nast! Yo eat 'em up!\n Get da fuck up outta here! (Car rushin' away)\n"},{"id":16408892,"name":"Fuck Dat (Ft. X-1, Bubba Smith, J Mega, Greg Valentine & Sunshine)","trackName":"Fuck Dat (Ft. X-1, Bubba Smith, J Mega, Greg Valentine & Sunshine)","artistName":"Onyx","albumName":"Shut 'Em Down","duration":298.997551,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo! Turn that shit up, word up!\nAfficial Nasty Niggas... Fuck Dat!\nYa niggas is dead-ass!\nKnow what I'm sayin'?\nWe're payin' my niggas ' All City 'n shit!\nWord up! Yo Mega, Fuck Dat!\nRip that Brooklyn shit nigga!\n\n[J. Mega, (\nWhat? What? What? What? What? What?\nMy fleet goals, by da creep cold\nWe blaze, y'all won't see those, you just feel 'em\nWe raise the states in this game, like helium\nThe new millenium, got me in mo' for killin' 'em\nGreen backs, I want a mil (of) 'em!\nBut don't minimum, strictly max out, the ol's put the black out\nNiggas be frontin', we take the back rob\nNow stay with that style, original, wanna act wild?\nCity puttin' cartracks out, as we stack now\nWe're nuthin' to match out, formula\nSee it clearly through my corner-ya\nThis goes out to niggas on the corner, Mega's on ya\nRap performer, no diploma, I'm sippin' on Corona, keep my carpet Coma\nThe East New York Soldier, what?\n(Fuck Dat! That's the All City shit!\nYo Greg Valentine!)\n\n[Greg Valentine, (Fredro Starr), {\nThe beats be Rushen like Patrice\nYou better had that bulletproof vest under ya fleece\nThen a clever sceam up ya slees, we has to say da least\nBetween the thugs and the police, shit'll never be peace\nCause holiday, raise ya weights ya hourly rate\nWe poly for higher states, buyin' fire escapes\nSee this, criminal life is like a 'roll it in dice'\nNiggas holdin' they ice, wild bust on a slice\nYo it's too often too hot, in this ghetto meldin' pot\nPut out these fagat ass niggas try to steel what I got\nAs if, that ain't enough, for Jakes is ratin' the spot\nWhere we eat at, but tonight that's where they bleed at\nThat belone her with the flame, throwin' their rain, it's over\nPrayed to Jehova, jiggaz up, the game's over\n(All City what, All City what?! Fuck Dat!\nYo Sticky) {wassup nigga?}(Come here nigga, Fuck Dat!\nLet these muthafuckaz know nigga!!!) {I want some NEW SHIT!}\n(Afficial Nast! What?!!)\n\n[Sticky Fingaz, (\nOh ooh, here the thug come, from out the dungeon\nSay goodbye to ya love one, you can't run from, the dum-dum\nKickin' WACK SHIT! I cut out ya tongue son!\nI'm in this rap shit for the lump sum\nHit the stage as soon as the blunt's done\nYOU DON'T WANT NONE! But regardless\nWe the wildest, you get demolished\nI muthafuckin', muthafuckin' murder, want charges!\nWalkin' targets, kill any rap artist!\nStill hate ya GUTS!, and hope that ya DIE!\nIf you not a ally, then yo ass gotta fry\nTwo lifes for a life without no remorse\nYou fucked up BIG TIME, you should've finished me off nigga!\n(What?! Fuck Dat! Fuck Dat!\nAfficial Nast what up?!\nYo Lefty, I got a new nigga for ya niggas!\nYo Fuck Dat! Step up and shit...)\n\n[Bubba Smith, (Fredro Starr), {X-\nI roll with gat-swingers, that bay arms like tanktops\nA bunch of problem bringers, that an ass bet ya wanna make your bank stop\nGuaranteed to make ya block hot, we runnin' the spots\nWe're tired of jizzle 'n rocks, we straight up fuckin' in villains or jachts\nGot the Big Apple on smash like mobbs, we're livin' hell really?!\nSo we just vanish 'n rob, paper tellin' me we all dyin' from a leg docs(?)\nSo fuck it, it's even get it get-got, so what?!\nBring it, I'm closin' now shut, I don't give a FUCK about gettin' popped\nThem thugs probably heard, left these two guns is al lot!\nIt's my time to go, playa, I'm tryin' to go spittin' you\nFor the dolies, niggas just press G-O\nWhile shoot outs, reachin' for the Glocks, on my way to gettin' drugs\nStill spittin' ya, 3-60 pill, I was drugged up, in a sixth still SHITTIN' ya\nCall it murder, besides anybody TRY to here missin'\n(Fuck Dat! Yo X -1 nigga!) {What nigga?}\n(Ya betta fuckin' do this shit nigga!) {What what, what, what?!}\n(Fuck Dat! Afficial Nasty Niggas!\nFuckin' takin' this streets! That niggas is dead!)\n\n[X-1, (\nAll you crack niggas, I don't even like your style\nIf it wasn't for love, you be dead right now\nSpeak upon the gun nor, X is layin' it down\nDirty two rounds, sprayin' ya town\nTakin' dirt back under the ground, be a man, take ya laws\nDie with the sacred course, six's bein' deep on the basic floors\n(They hate that shit nigga! What?!\nKick the our fuckin' shit! Fuck Dat!)\nBe a hard rock and see where you end up 'bout\nBefore my hart stops, kid I'm tryin' to see some jacks\nYou better get dropped dog, just read the facts\nDig a gunshot, at least about bringin' you back\nI run in cold spots, or walk that for liquid cats\nX critical source, with criminal thoughts, under the physical laws\nYour visual lost, X-million now, nigga tripple the course\nI cripple your boss, what?!!\n\n[Fredro &\nFuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\nFuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\nFuck Dat! Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\nFuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\nWord up! Fuckin' All City!\nMuthafuckin' Onyx!\nMuthafuckin' Fredro Starr talkin' to you nigga!\nFuckin' Sonsee nigga! What da fuck is up?!\nYo Sticky, wassup nigga?! Gangreen in this muthafucka!\nBubba Smith 'n shit! Back da fuck up, everybody up!!\nMy nigga too dirty up in this muthafucka! (Know what I'm sayin?!)\nDJ LS, Afficial Nast nigga! Fuck any DJ, yo Fuck Dat! (Any DJ nigga! Afficial Nast!)\nWord up, Fuck Dat! Niggas don't know! My muthafuckin' broher is sayin', Fuck Dat!\nBig Chris, Fuck Dat! Niggas ain't seein' shit! Afficial Nast! Yo eat 'em up!\nGet da fuck up outta here! (Car rushin' away)","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Fuck Dat (Ft. X-1, Bubba Smith, J Mega, Greg Valentine & Sunshine)\n artist: Onyx\n album: Shut 'Em Down\n duration_ms: 298998\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n Yo! Turn that shit up, word up!\n Afficial Nasty Niggas... Fuck Dat!\n Ya niggas is dead-ass!\n Know what I'm sayin'?\n We're payin' my niggas ' All City 'n shit!\n Word up! Yo Mega, Fuck Dat!\n Rip that Brooklyn shit nigga!\n\n [J. Mega, (\n What? What? What? What? What? What?\n My fleet goals, by da creep cold\n We blaze, y'all won't see those, you just feel 'em\n We raise the states in this game, like helium\n The new millenium, got me in mo' for killin' 'em\n Green backs, I want a mil (of) 'em!\n But don't minimum, strictly max out, the ol's put the black out\n Niggas be frontin', we take the back rob\n Now stay with that style, original, wanna act wild?\n City puttin' cartracks out, as we stack now\n We're nuthin' to match out, formula\n See it clearly through my corner-ya\n This goes out to niggas on the corner, Mega's on ya\n Rap performer, no diploma, I'm sippin' on Corona, keep my carpet Coma\n The East New York Soldier, what?\n (Fuck Dat! That's the All City shit!\n Yo Greg Valentine!)\n\n [Greg Valentine, (Fredro Starr), {\n The beats be Rushen like Patrice\n You better had that bulletproof vest under ya fleece\n Then a clever sceam up ya slees, we has to say da least\n Between the thugs and the police, shit'll never be peace\n Cause holiday, raise ya weights ya hourly rate\n We poly for higher states, buyin' fire escapes\n See this, criminal life is like a 'roll it in dice'\n Niggas holdin' they ice, wild bust on a slice\n Yo it's too often too hot, in this ghetto meldin' pot\n Put out these fagat ass niggas try to steel what I got\n As if, that ain't enough, for Jakes is ratin' the spot\n Where we eat at, but tonight that's where they bleed at\n That belone her with the flame, throwin' their rain, it's over\n Prayed to Jehova, jiggaz up, the game's over\n (All City what, All City what?! Fuck Dat!\n Yo Sticky) {wassup nigga?}(Come here nigga, Fuck Dat!\n Let these muthafuckaz know nigga!!!) {I want some NEW SHIT!}\n (Afficial Nast! What?!!)\n\n [Sticky Fingaz, (\n Oh ooh, here the thug come, from out the dungeon\n Say goodbye to ya love one, you can't run from, the dum-dum\n Kickin' WACK SHIT! I cut out ya tongue son!\n I'm in this rap shit for the lump sum\n Hit the stage as soon as the blunt's done\n YOU DON'T WANT NONE! But regardless\n We the wildest, you get demolished\n I muthafuckin', muthafuckin' murder, want charges!\n Walkin' targets, kill any rap artist!\n Still hate ya GUTS!, and hope that ya DIE!\n If you not a ally, then yo ass gotta fry\n Two lifes for a life without no remorse\n You fucked up BIG TIME, you should've finished me off nigga!\n (What?! Fuck Dat! Fuck Dat!\n Afficial Nast what up?!\n Yo Lefty, I got a new nigga for ya niggas!\n Yo Fuck Dat! Step up and shit...)\n\n [Bubba Smith, (Fredro Starr), {X-\n I roll with gat-swingers, that bay arms like tanktops\n A bunch of problem bringers, that an ass bet ya wanna make your bank stop\n Guaranteed to make ya block hot, we runnin' the spots\n We're tired of jizzle 'n rocks, we straight up fuckin' in villains or jachts\n Got the Big Apple on smash like mobbs, we're livin' hell really?!\n So we just vanish 'n rob, paper tellin' me we all dyin' from a leg docs(?)\n So fuck it, it's even get it get-got, so what?!\n Bring it, I'm closin' now shut, I don't give a FUCK about gettin' popped\n Them thugs probably heard, left these two guns is al lot!\n It's my time to go, playa, I'm tryin' to go spittin' you\n For the dolies, niggas just press G-O\n While shoot outs, reachin' for the Glocks, on my way to gettin' drugs\n Still spittin' ya, 3-60 pill, I was drugged up, in a sixth still SHITTIN' ya\n Call it murder, besides anybody TRY to here missin'\n (Fuck Dat! Yo X -1 nigga!) {What nigga?}\n (Ya betta fuckin' do this shit nigga!) {What what, what, what?!}\n (Fuck Dat! Afficial Nasty Niggas!\n Fuckin' takin' this streets! That niggas is dead!)\n\n [X-1, (\n All you crack niggas, I don't even like your style\n If it wasn't for love, you be dead right now\n Speak upon the gun nor, X is layin' it down\n Dirty two rounds, sprayin' ya town\n Takin' dirt back under the ground, be a man, take ya laws\n Die with the sacred course, six's bein' deep on the basic floors\n (They hate that shit nigga! What?!\n Kick the our fuckin' shit! Fuck Dat!)\n Be a hard rock and see where you end up 'bout\n Before my hart stops, kid I'm tryin' to see some jacks\n You better get dropped dog, just read the facts\n Dig a gunshot, at least about bringin' you back\n I run in cold spots, or walk that for liquid cats\n X critical source, with criminal thoughts, under the physical laws\n Your visual lost, X-million now, nigga tripple the course\n I cripple your boss, what?!!\n\n [Fredro &\n Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\n Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\n Fuck Dat! Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\n Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\n Word up! Fuckin' All City!\n Muthafuckin' Onyx!\n Muthafuckin' Fredro Starr talkin' to you nigga!\n Fuckin' Sonsee nigga! What da fuck is up?!\n Yo Sticky, wassup nigga?! Gangreen in this muthafucka!\n Bubba Smith 'n shit! Back da fuck up, everybody up!!\n My nigga too dirty up in this muthafucka! (Know what I'm sayin?!)\n DJ LS, Afficial Nast nigga! Fuck any DJ, yo Fuck Dat! (Any DJ nigga! Afficial Nast!)\n Word up, Fuck Dat! Niggas don't know! My muthafuckin' broher is sayin', Fuck Dat!\n Big Chris, Fuck Dat! Niggas ain't seein' shit! Afficial Nast! Yo eat 'em up!\n Get da fuck up outta here! (Car rushin' away)\n"},{"id":17332331,"name":"Fuck Dat (Featuring X-1, Bubba Smith, J Mega, Greg Valentine & Sunshine)","trackName":"Fuck Dat (Featuring X-1, Bubba Smith, J Mega, Greg Valentine & Sunshine)","artistName":"Onyx","albumName":"Shut 'Em Down","duration":298.96,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo! Turn that shit up, word up!\nAfficial Nasty Niggas... Fuck Dat!\nYa niggas is dead-ass!\nKnow what I'm sayin'?\nWe're payin' my niggas ' All City 'n shit!\nWord up! Yo Mega, Fuck Dat!\nRip that Brooklyn shit nigga!\n\n[J. Mega, (\nWhat? What? What? What? What? What?\nMy fleet goals, by da creep cold\nWe blaze, y'all won't see those, you just feel 'em\nWe raise the states in this game, like helium\nThe new millenium, got me in mo' for killin' 'em\nGreen backs, I want a mil (of) 'em!\nBut don't minimum, strictly max out, the ol's put the black out\nNiggas be frontin', we take the back rob\nNow stay with that style, original, wanna act wild?\nCity puttin' cartracks out, as we stack now\nWe're nuthin' to match out, formula\nSee it clearly through my corner-ya\nThis goes out to niggas on the corner, Mega's on ya\nRap performer, no diploma, I'm sippin' on Corona, keep my carpet Coma\nThe East New York Soldier, what?\n(Fuck Dat! That's the All City shit!\nYo Greg Valentine!)\n\n[Greg Valentine, (Fredro Starr), {\nThe beats be Rushen like Patrice\nYou better had that bulletproof vest under ya fleece\nThen a clever sceam up ya slees, we has to say da least\nBetween the thugs and the police, shit'll never be peace\nCause holiday, raise ya weights ya hourly rate\nWe poly for higher states, buyin' fire escapes\nSee this, criminal life is like a 'roll it in dice'\nNiggas holdin' they ice, wild bust on a slice\nYo it's too often too hot, in this ghetto meldin' pot\nPut out these fagat ass niggas try to steel what I got\nAs if, that ain't enough, for Jakes is ratin' the spot\nWhere we eat at, but tonight that's where they bleed at\nThat belone her with the flame, throwin' their rain, it's over\nPrayed to Jehova, jiggaz up, the game's over\n(All City what, All City what?! Fuck Dat!\nYo Sticky) {wassup nigga?}(Come here nigga, Fuck Dat!\nLet these muthafuckaz know nigga!!!) {I want some NEW SHIT!}\n(Afficial Nast! What?!!)\n\n[Sticky Fingaz, (\nOh ooh, here the thug come, from out the dungeon\nSay goodbye to ya love one, you can't run from, the dum-dum\nKickin' WACK SHIT! I cut out ya tongue son!\nI'm in this rap shit for the lump sum\nHit the stage as soon as the blunt's done\nYOU DON'T WANT NONE! But regardless\nWe the wildest, you get demolished\nI muthafuckin', muthafuckin' murder, want charges!\nWalkin' targets, kill any rap artist!\nStill hate ya GUTS!, and hope that ya DIE!\nIf you not a ally, then yo ass gotta fry\nTwo lifes for a life without no remorse\nYou fucked up BIG TIME, you should've finished me off nigga!\n(What?! Fuck Dat! Fuck Dat!\nAfficial Nast what up?!\nYo Lefty, I got a new nigga for ya niggas!\nYo Fuck Dat! Step up and shit...)\n\n[Bubba Smith, (Fredro Starr), {X-\nI roll with gat-swingers, that bay arms like tanktops\nA bunch of problem bringers, that an ass bet ya wanna make your bank stop\nGuaranteed to make ya block hot, we runnin' the spots\nWe're tired of jizzle 'n rocks, we straight up fuckin' in villains or jachts\nGot the Big Apple on smash like mobbs, we're livin' hell really?!\nSo we just vanish 'n rob, paper tellin' me we all dyin' from a leg docs(?)\nSo fuck it, it's even get it get-got, so what?!\nBring it, I'm closin' now shut, I don't give a FUCK about gettin' popped\nThem thugs probably heard, left these two guns is al lot!\nIt's my time to go, playa, I'm tryin' to go spittin' you\nFor the dolies, niggas just press G-O\nWhile shoot outs, reachin' for the Glocks, on my way to gettin' drugs\nStill spittin' ya, 3-60 pill, I was drugged up, in a sixth still SHITTIN' ya\nCall it murder, besides anybody TRY to here missin'\n(Fuck Dat! Yo X -1 nigga!) {What nigga?}\n(Ya betta fuckin' do this shit nigga!) {What what, what, what?!}\n(Fuck Dat! Afficial Nasty Niggas!\nFuckin' takin' this streets! That niggas is dead!)\n\n[X-1, (\nAll you crack niggas, I don't even like your style\nIf it wasn't for love, you be dead right now\nSpeak upon the gun nor, X is layin' it down\nDirty two rounds, sprayin' ya town\nTakin' dirt back under the ground, be a man, take ya laws\nDie with the sacred course, six's bein' deep on the basic floors\n(They hate that shit nigga! What?!\nKick the our fuckin' shit! Fuck Dat!)\nBe a hard rock and see where you end up 'bout\nBefore my hart stops, kid I'm tryin' to see some jacks\nYou better get dropped dog, just read the facts\nDig a gunshot, at least about bringin' you back\nI run in cold spots, or walk that for liquid cats\nX critical source, with criminal thoughts, under the physical laws\nYour visual lost, X-million now, nigga tripple the course\nI cripple your boss, what?!!\n\n[Fredro &\nFuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\nFuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\nFuck Dat! Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\nFuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\nWord up! Fuckin' All City!\nMuthafuckin' Onyx!\nMuthafuckin' Fredro Starr talkin' to you nigga!\nFuckin' Sonsee nigga! What da fuck is up?!\nYo Sticky, wassup nigga?! Gangreen in this muthafucka!\nBubba Smith 'n shit! Back da fuck up, everybody up!!\nMy nigga too dirty up in this muthafucka! (Know what I'm sayin?!)\nDJ LS, Afficial Nast nigga! Fuck any DJ, yo Fuck Dat! (Any DJ nigga! Afficial Nast!)\nWord up, Fuck Dat! Niggas don't know! My muthafuckin' broher is sayin', Fuck Dat!\nBig Chris, Fuck Dat! Niggas ain't seein' shit! Afficial Nast! Yo eat 'em up!\nGet da fuck up outta here! (Car rushin' away)","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Fuck Dat (Featuring X-1, Bubba Smith, J Mega, Greg Valentine & Sunshine)\n artist: Onyx\n album: Shut 'Em Down\n duration_ms: 298960\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n Yo! Turn that shit up, word up!\n Afficial Nasty Niggas... Fuck Dat!\n Ya niggas is dead-ass!\n Know what I'm sayin'?\n We're payin' my niggas ' All City 'n shit!\n Word up! Yo Mega, Fuck Dat!\n Rip that Brooklyn shit nigga!\n\n [J. Mega, (\n What? What? What? What? What? What?\n My fleet goals, by da creep cold\n We blaze, y'all won't see those, you just feel 'em\n We raise the states in this game, like helium\n The new millenium, got me in mo' for killin' 'em\n Green backs, I want a mil (of) 'em!\n But don't minimum, strictly max out, the ol's put the black out\n Niggas be frontin', we take the back rob\n Now stay with that style, original, wanna act wild?\n City puttin' cartracks out, as we stack now\n We're nuthin' to match out, formula\n See it clearly through my corner-ya\n This goes out to niggas on the corner, Mega's on ya\n Rap performer, no diploma, I'm sippin' on Corona, keep my carpet Coma\n The East New York Soldier, what?\n (Fuck Dat! That's the All City shit!\n Yo Greg Valentine!)\n\n [Greg Valentine, (Fredro Starr), {\n The beats be Rushen like Patrice\n You better had that bulletproof vest under ya fleece\n Then a clever sceam up ya slees, we has to say da least\n Between the thugs and the police, shit'll never be peace\n Cause holiday, raise ya weights ya hourly rate\n We poly for higher states, buyin' fire escapes\n See this, criminal life is like a 'roll it in dice'\n Niggas holdin' they ice, wild bust on a slice\n Yo it's too often too hot, in this ghetto meldin' pot\n Put out these fagat ass niggas try to steel what I got\n As if, that ain't enough, for Jakes is ratin' the spot\n Where we eat at, but tonight that's where they bleed at\n That belone her with the flame, throwin' their rain, it's over\n Prayed to Jehova, jiggaz up, the game's over\n (All City what, All City what?! Fuck Dat!\n Yo Sticky) {wassup nigga?}(Come here nigga, Fuck Dat!\n Let these muthafuckaz know nigga!!!) {I want some NEW SHIT!}\n (Afficial Nast! What?!!)\n\n [Sticky Fingaz, (\n Oh ooh, here the thug come, from out the dungeon\n Say goodbye to ya love one, you can't run from, the dum-dum\n Kickin' WACK SHIT! I cut out ya tongue son!\n I'm in this rap shit for the lump sum\n Hit the stage as soon as the blunt's done\n YOU DON'T WANT NONE! But regardless\n We the wildest, you get demolished\n I muthafuckin', muthafuckin' murder, want charges!\n Walkin' targets, kill any rap artist!\n Still hate ya GUTS!, and hope that ya DIE!\n If you not a ally, then yo ass gotta fry\n Two lifes for a life without no remorse\n You fucked up BIG TIME, you should've finished me off nigga!\n (What?! Fuck Dat! Fuck Dat!\n Afficial Nast what up?!\n Yo Lefty, I got a new nigga for ya niggas!\n Yo Fuck Dat! Step up and shit...)\n\n [Bubba Smith, (Fredro Starr), {X-\n I roll with gat-swingers, that bay arms like tanktops\n A bunch of problem bringers, that an ass bet ya wanna make your bank stop\n Guaranteed to make ya block hot, we runnin' the spots\n We're tired of jizzle 'n rocks, we straight up fuckin' in villains or jachts\n Got the Big Apple on smash like mobbs, we're livin' hell really?!\n So we just vanish 'n rob, paper tellin' me we all dyin' from a leg docs(?)\n So fuck it, it's even get it get-got, so what?!\n Bring it, I'm closin' now shut, I don't give a FUCK about gettin' popped\n Them thugs probably heard, left these two guns is al lot!\n It's my time to go, playa, I'm tryin' to go spittin' you\n For the dolies, niggas just press G-O\n While shoot outs, reachin' for the Glocks, on my way to gettin' drugs\n Still spittin' ya, 3-60 pill, I was drugged up, in a sixth still SHITTIN' ya\n Call it murder, besides anybody TRY to here missin'\n (Fuck Dat! Yo X -1 nigga!) {What nigga?}\n (Ya betta fuckin' do this shit nigga!) {What what, what, what?!}\n (Fuck Dat! Afficial Nasty Niggas!\n Fuckin' takin' this streets! That niggas is dead!)\n\n [X-1, (\n All you crack niggas, I don't even like your style\n If it wasn't for love, you be dead right now\n Speak upon the gun nor, X is layin' it down\n Dirty two rounds, sprayin' ya town\n Takin' dirt back under the ground, be a man, take ya laws\n Die with the sacred course, six's bein' deep on the basic floors\n (They hate that shit nigga! What?!\n Kick the our fuckin' shit! Fuck Dat!)\n Be a hard rock and see where you end up 'bout\n Before my hart stops, kid I'm tryin' to see some jacks\n You better get dropped dog, just read the facts\n Dig a gunshot, at least about bringin' you back\n I run in cold spots, or walk that for liquid cats\n X critical source, with criminal thoughts, under the physical laws\n Your visual lost, X-million now, nigga tripple the course\n I cripple your boss, what?!!\n\n [Fredro &\n Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\n Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\n Fuck Dat! Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\n Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\n Word up! Fuckin' All City!\n Muthafuckin' Onyx!\n Muthafuckin' Fredro Starr talkin' to you nigga!\n Fuckin' Sonsee nigga! What da fuck is up?!\n Yo Sticky, wassup nigga?! Gangreen in this muthafucka!\n Bubba Smith 'n shit! Back da fuck up, everybody up!!\n My nigga too dirty up in this muthafucka! (Know what I'm sayin?!)\n DJ LS, Afficial Nast nigga! Fuck any DJ, yo Fuck Dat! (Any DJ nigga! Afficial Nast!)\n Word up, Fuck Dat! Niggas don't know! My muthafuckin' broher is sayin', Fuck Dat!\n Big Chris, Fuck Dat! Niggas ain't seein' shit! Afficial Nast! Yo eat 'em up!\n Get da fuck up outta here! (Car rushin' away)\n"},{"id":13032203,"name":"Fuck Dat (feat. X-1, Bubba Smith, J Mega, Greg Valentine & Sunshine)","trackName":"Fuck Dat (feat. X-1, Bubba Smith, J Mega, Greg Valentine & Sunshine)","artistName":"Onyx","albumName":"Shut 'em Down","duration":299.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo! Turn that shit up, word up!\nAfficial Nasty Niggas... Fuck Dat!\nYa niggas is dead-ass!\nKnow what I'm sayin'?\nWe're payin' my niggas ' All City 'n shit!\nWord up! Yo Mega, Fuck Dat!\nRip that Brooklyn shit nigga!\n\n[J. Mega, (\nWhat? What? What? What? What? What?\nMy fleet goals, by da creep cold\nWe blaze, y'all won't see those, you just feel 'em\nWe raise the states in this game, like helium\nThe new millenium, got me in mo' for killin' 'em\nGreen backs, I want a mil (of) 'em!\nBut don't minimum, strictly max out, the ol's put the black out\nNiggas be frontin', we take the back rob\nNow stay with that style, original, wanna act wild?\nCity puttin' cartracks out, as we stack now\nWe're nuthin' to match out, formula\nSee it clearly through my corner-ya\nThis goes out to niggas on the corner, Mega's on ya\nRap performer, no diploma, I'm sippin' on Corona, keep my carpet Coma\nThe East New York Soldier, what?\n(Fuck Dat! That's the All City shit!\nYo Greg Valentine!)\n\n[Greg Valentine, (Fredro Starr), {\nThe beats be Rushen like Patrice\nYou better had that bulletproof vest under ya fleece\nThen a clever sceam up ya slees, we has to say da least\nBetween the thugs and the police, shit'll never be peace\nCause holiday, raise ya weights ya hourly rate\nWe poly for higher states, buyin' fire escapes\nSee this, criminal life is like a 'roll it in dice'\nNiggas holdin' they ice, wild bust on a slice\nYo it's too often too hot, in this ghetto meldin' pot\nPut out these fagat ass niggas try to steel what I got\nAs if, that ain't enough, for Jakes is ratin' the spot\nWhere we eat at, but tonight that's where they bleed at\nThat belone her with the flame, throwin' their rain, it's over\nPrayed to Jehova, jiggaz up, the game's over\n(All City what, All City what?! Fuck Dat!\nYo Sticky) {wassup nigga?}(Come here nigga, Fuck Dat!\nLet these muthafuckaz know nigga!!!) {I want some NEW SHIT!}\n(Afficial Nast! What?!!)\n\n[Sticky Fingaz, (\nOh ooh, here the thug come, from out the dungeon\nSay goodbye to ya love one, you can't run from, the dum-dum\nKickin' WACK SHIT! I cut out ya tongue son!\nI'm in this rap shit for the lump sum\nHit the stage as soon as the blunt's done\nYOU DON'T WANT NONE! But regardless\nWe the wildest, you get demolished\nI muthafuckin', muthafuckin' murder, want charges!\nWalkin' targets, kill any rap artist!\nStill hate ya GUTS!, and hope that ya DIE!\nIf you not a ally, then yo ass gotta fry\nTwo lifes for a life without no remorse\nYou fucked up BIG TIME, you should've finished me off nigga!\n(What?! Fuck Dat! Fuck Dat!\nAfficial Nast what up?!\nYo Lefty, I got a new nigga for ya niggas!\nYo Fuck Dat! Step up and shit...)\n\n[Bubba Smith, (Fredro Starr), {X-\nI roll with gat-swingers, that bay arms like tanktops\nA bunch of problem bringers, that an ass bet ya wanna make your bank stop\nGuaranteed to make ya block hot, we runnin' the spots\nWe're tired of jizzle 'n rocks, we straight up fuckin' in villains or jachts\nGot the Big Apple on smash like mobbs, we're livin' hell really?!\nSo we just vanish 'n rob, paper tellin' me we all dyin' from a leg docs(?)\nSo fuck it, it's even get it get-got, so what?!\nBring it, I'm closin' now shut, I don't give a FUCK about gettin' popped\nThem thugs probably heard, left these two guns is al lot!\nIt's my time to go, playa, I'm tryin' to go spittin' you\nFor the dolies, niggas just press G-O\nWhile shoot outs, reachin' for the Glocks, on my way to gettin' drugs\nStill spittin' ya, 3-60 pill, I was drugged up, in a sixth still SHITTIN' ya\nCall it murder, besides anybody TRY to here missin'\n(Fuck Dat! Yo X -1 nigga!) {What nigga?}\n(Ya betta fuckin' do this shit nigga!) {What what, what, what?!}\n(Fuck Dat! Afficial Nasty Niggas!\nFuckin' takin' this streets! That niggas is dead!)\n\n[X-1, (\nAll you crack niggas, I don't even like your style\nIf it wasn't for love, you be dead right now\nSpeak upon the gun nor, X is layin' it down\nDirty two rounds, sprayin' ya town\nTakin' dirt back under the ground, be a man, take ya laws\nDie with the sacred course, six's bein' deep on the basic floors\n(They hate that shit nigga! What?!\nKick the our fuckin' shit! Fuck Dat!)\nBe a hard rock and see where you end up 'bout\nBefore my hart stops, kid I'm tryin' to see some jacks\nYou better get dropped dog, just read the facts\nDig a gunshot, at least about bringin' you back\nI run in cold spots, or walk that for liquid cats\nX critical source, with criminal thoughts, under the physical laws\nYour visual lost, X-million now, nigga tripple the course\nI cripple your boss, what?!!\n\n[Fredro &\nFuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\nFuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\nFuck Dat! Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\nFuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\nWord up! Fuckin' All City!\nMuthafuckin' Onyx!\nMuthafuckin' Fredro Starr talkin' to you nigga!\nFuckin' Sonsee nigga! What da fuck is up?!\nYo Sticky, wassup nigga?! Gangreen in this muthafucka!\nBubba Smith 'n shit! Back da fuck up, everybody up!!\nMy nigga too dirty up in this muthafucka! (Know what I'm sayin?!)\nDJ LS, Afficial Nast nigga! Fuck any DJ, yo Fuck Dat! (Any DJ nigga! Afficial Nast!)\nWord up, Fuck Dat! Niggas don't know! My muthafuckin' broher is sayin', Fuck Dat!\nBig Chris, Fuck Dat! Niggas ain't seein' shit! Afficial Nast! Yo eat 'em up!\nGet da fuck up outta here! (Car rushin' away)","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Fuck Dat (feat. X-1, Bubba Smith, J Mega, Greg Valentine & Sunshine)\n artist: Onyx\n album: Shut 'em Down\n duration_ms: 299000\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n Yo! Turn that shit up, word up!\n Afficial Nasty Niggas... Fuck Dat!\n Ya niggas is dead-ass!\n Know what I'm sayin'?\n We're payin' my niggas ' All City 'n shit!\n Word up! Yo Mega, Fuck Dat!\n Rip that Brooklyn shit nigga!\n\n [J. Mega, (\n What? What? What? What? What? What?\n My fleet goals, by da creep cold\n We blaze, y'all won't see those, you just feel 'em\n We raise the states in this game, like helium\n The new millenium, got me in mo' for killin' 'em\n Green backs, I want a mil (of) 'em!\n But don't minimum, strictly max out, the ol's put the black out\n Niggas be frontin', we take the back rob\n Now stay with that style, original, wanna act wild?\n City puttin' cartracks out, as we stack now\n We're nuthin' to match out, formula\n See it clearly through my corner-ya\n This goes out to niggas on the corner, Mega's on ya\n Rap performer, no diploma, I'm sippin' on Corona, keep my carpet Coma\n The East New York Soldier, what?\n (Fuck Dat! That's the All City shit!\n Yo Greg Valentine!)\n\n [Greg Valentine, (Fredro Starr), {\n The beats be Rushen like Patrice\n You better had that bulletproof vest under ya fleece\n Then a clever sceam up ya slees, we has to say da least\n Between the thugs and the police, shit'll never be peace\n Cause holiday, raise ya weights ya hourly rate\n We poly for higher states, buyin' fire escapes\n See this, criminal life is like a 'roll it in dice'\n Niggas holdin' they ice, wild bust on a slice\n Yo it's too often too hot, in this ghetto meldin' pot\n Put out these fagat ass niggas try to steel what I got\n As if, that ain't enough, for Jakes is ratin' the spot\n Where we eat at, but tonight that's where they bleed at\n That belone her with the flame, throwin' their rain, it's over\n Prayed to Jehova, jiggaz up, the game's over\n (All City what, All City what?! Fuck Dat!\n Yo Sticky) {wassup nigga?}(Come here nigga, Fuck Dat!\n Let these muthafuckaz know nigga!!!) {I want some NEW SHIT!}\n (Afficial Nast! What?!!)\n\n [Sticky Fingaz, (\n Oh ooh, here the thug come, from out the dungeon\n Say goodbye to ya love one, you can't run from, the dum-dum\n Kickin' WACK SHIT! I cut out ya tongue son!\n I'm in this rap shit for the lump sum\n Hit the stage as soon as the blunt's done\n YOU DON'T WANT NONE! But regardless\n We the wildest, you get demolished\n I muthafuckin', muthafuckin' murder, want charges!\n Walkin' targets, kill any rap artist!\n Still hate ya GUTS!, and hope that ya DIE!\n If you not a ally, then yo ass gotta fry\n Two lifes for a life without no remorse\n You fucked up BIG TIME, you should've finished me off nigga!\n (What?! Fuck Dat! Fuck Dat!\n Afficial Nast what up?!\n Yo Lefty, I got a new nigga for ya niggas!\n Yo Fuck Dat! Step up and shit...)\n\n [Bubba Smith, (Fredro Starr), {X-\n I roll with gat-swingers, that bay arms like tanktops\n A bunch of problem bringers, that an ass bet ya wanna make your bank stop\n Guaranteed to make ya block hot, we runnin' the spots\n We're tired of jizzle 'n rocks, we straight up fuckin' in villains or jachts\n Got the Big Apple on smash like mobbs, we're livin' hell really?!\n So we just vanish 'n rob, paper tellin' me we all dyin' from a leg docs(?)\n So fuck it, it's even get it get-got, so what?!\n Bring it, I'm closin' now shut, I don't give a FUCK about gettin' popped\n Them thugs probably heard, left these two guns is al lot!\n It's my time to go, playa, I'm tryin' to go spittin' you\n For the dolies, niggas just press G-O\n While shoot outs, reachin' for the Glocks, on my way to gettin' drugs\n Still spittin' ya, 3-60 pill, I was drugged up, in a sixth still SHITTIN' ya\n Call it murder, besides anybody TRY to here missin'\n (Fuck Dat! Yo X -1 nigga!) {What nigga?}\n (Ya betta fuckin' do this shit nigga!) {What what, what, what?!}\n (Fuck Dat! Afficial Nasty Niggas!\n Fuckin' takin' this streets! That niggas is dead!)\n\n [X-1, (\n All you crack niggas, I don't even like your style\n If it wasn't for love, you be dead right now\n Speak upon the gun nor, X is layin' it down\n Dirty two rounds, sprayin' ya town\n Takin' dirt back under the ground, be a man, take ya laws\n Die with the sacred course, six's bein' deep on the basic floors\n (They hate that shit nigga! What?!\n Kick the our fuckin' shit! Fuck Dat!)\n Be a hard rock and see where you end up 'bout\n Before my hart stops, kid I'm tryin' to see some jacks\n You better get dropped dog, just read the facts\n Dig a gunshot, at least about bringin' you back\n I run in cold spots, or walk that for liquid cats\n X critical source, with criminal thoughts, under the physical laws\n Your visual lost, X-million now, nigga tripple the course\n I cripple your boss, what?!!\n\n [Fredro &\n Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\n Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\n Fuck Dat! Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\n Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\n Word up! Fuckin' All City!\n Muthafuckin' Onyx!\n Muthafuckin' Fredro Starr talkin' to you nigga!\n Fuckin' Sonsee nigga! What da fuck is up?!\n Yo Sticky, wassup nigga?! Gangreen in this muthafucka!\n Bubba Smith 'n shit! Back da fuck up, everybody up!!\n My nigga too dirty up in this muthafucka! (Know what I'm sayin?!)\n DJ LS, Afficial Nast nigga! Fuck any DJ, yo Fuck Dat! (Any DJ nigga! Afficial Nast!)\n Word up, Fuck Dat! Niggas don't know! My muthafuckin' broher is sayin', Fuck Dat!\n Big Chris, Fuck Dat! Niggas ain't seein' shit! Afficial Nast! Yo eat 'em up!\n Get da fuck up outta here! (Car rushin' away)\n"},{"id":27576251,"name":"Fuck Dat feat Bubba Smith, Greg Valentine, J Mega, Sunshine & X1 (prod by Self)","trackName":"Fuck Dat feat Bubba Smith, Greg Valentine, J Mega, Sunshine & X1 (prod by Self)","artistName":"Onyx","albumName":"Shut 'Em Down","duration":299.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo! Turn that shit up, word up!\nAfficial Nasty Niggas... Fuck Dat!\nYa niggas is dead-ass!\nKnow what I'm sayin'?\nWe're payin' my niggas ' All City 'n shit!\nWord up! Yo Mega, Fuck Dat!\nRip that Brooklyn shit nigga!\n\n[J. Mega, (\nWhat? What? What? What? What? What?\nMy fleet goals, by da creep cold\nWe blaze, y'all won't see those, you just feel 'em\nWe raise the states in this game, like helium\nThe new millenium, got me in mo' for killin' 'em\nGreen backs, I want a mil (of) 'em!\nBut don't minimum, strictly max out, the ol's put the black out\nNiggas be frontin', we take the back rob\nNow stay with that style, original, wanna act wild?\nCity puttin' cartracks out, as we stack now\nWe're nuthin' to match out, formula\nSee it clearly through my corner-ya\nThis goes out to niggas on the corner, Mega's on ya\nRap performer, no diploma, I'm sippin' on Corona, keep my carpet Coma\nThe East New York Soldier, what?\n(Fuck Dat! That's the All City shit!\nYo Greg Valentine!)\n\n[Greg Valentine, (Fredro Starr), {\nThe beats be Rushen like Patrice\nYou better had that bulletproof vest under ya fleece\nThen a clever sceam up ya slees, we has to say da least\nBetween the thugs and the police, shit'll never be peace\nCause holiday, raise ya weights ya hourly rate\nWe poly for higher states, buyin' fire escapes\nSee this, criminal life is like a 'roll it in dice'\nNiggas holdin' they ice, wild bust on a slice\nYo it's too often too hot, in this ghetto meldin' pot\nPut out these fagat ass niggas try to steel what I got\nAs if, that ain't enough, for Jakes is ratin' the spot\nWhere we eat at, but tonight that's where they bleed at\nThat belone her with the flame, throwin' their rain, it's over\nPrayed to Jehova, jiggaz up, the game's over\n(All City what, All City what?! Fuck Dat!\nYo Sticky) {wassup nigga?}(Come here nigga, Fuck Dat!\nLet these muthafuckaz know nigga!!!) {I want some NEW SHIT!}\n(Afficial Nast! What?!!)\n\n[Sticky Fingaz, (\nOh ooh, here the thug come, from out the dungeon\nSay goodbye to ya love one, you can't run from, the dum-dum\nKickin' WACK SHIT! I cut out ya tongue son!\nI'm in this rap shit for the lump sum\nHit the stage as soon as the blunt's done\nYOU DON'T WANT NONE! But regardless\nWe the wildest, you get demolished\nI muthafuckin', muthafuckin' murder, want charges!\nWalkin' targets, kill any rap artist!\nStill hate ya GUTS!, and hope that ya DIE!\nIf you not a ally, then yo ass gotta fry\nTwo lifes for a life without no remorse\nYou fucked up BIG TIME, you should've finished me off nigga!\n(What?! Fuck Dat! Fuck Dat!\nAfficial Nast what up?!\nYo Lefty, I got a new nigga for ya niggas!\nYo Fuck Dat! Step up and shit...)\n\n[Bubba Smith, (Fredro Starr), {X-\nI roll with gat-swingers, that bay arms like tanktops\nA bunch of problem bringers, that an ass bet ya wanna make your bank stop\nGuaranteed to make ya block hot, we runnin' the spots\nWe're tired of jizzle 'n rocks, we straight up fuckin' in villains or jachts\nGot the Big Apple on smash like mobbs, we're livin' hell really?!\nSo we just vanish 'n rob, paper tellin' me we all dyin' from a leg docs(?)\nSo fuck it, it's even get it get-got, so what?!\nBring it, I'm closin' now shut, I don't give a FUCK about gettin' popped\nThem thugs probably heard, left these two guns is al lot!\nIt's my time to go, playa, I'm tryin' to go spittin' you\nFor the dolies, niggas just press G-O\nWhile shoot outs, reachin' for the Glocks, on my way to gettin' drugs\nStill spittin' ya, 3-60 pill, I was drugged up, in a sixth still SHITTIN' ya\nCall it murder, besides anybody TRY to here missin'\n(Fuck Dat! Yo X -1 nigga!) {What nigga?}\n(Ya betta fuckin' do this shit nigga!) {What what, what, what?!}\n(Fuck Dat! Afficial Nasty Niggas!\nFuckin' takin' this streets! That niggas is dead!)\n\n[X-1, (\nAll you crack niggas, I don't even like your style\nIf it wasn't for love, you be dead right now\nSpeak upon the gun nor, X is layin' it down\nDirty two rounds, sprayin' ya town\nTakin' dirt back under the ground, be a man, take ya laws\nDie with the sacred course, six's bein' deep on the basic floors\n(They hate that shit nigga! What?!\nKick the our fuckin' shit! Fuck Dat!)\nBe a hard rock and see where you end up 'bout\nBefore my hart stops, kid I'm tryin' to see some jacks\nYou better get dropped dog, just read the facts\nDig a gunshot, at least about bringin' you back\nI run in cold spots, or walk that for liquid cats\nX critical source, with criminal thoughts, under the physical laws\nYour visual lost, X-million now, nigga tripple the course\nI cripple your boss, what?!!\n\n[Fredro &\nFuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\nFuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\nFuck Dat! Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\nFuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\nWord up! Fuckin' All City!\nMuthafuckin' Onyx!\nMuthafuckin' Fredro Starr talkin' to you nigga!\nFuckin' Sonsee nigga! What da fuck is up?!\nYo Sticky, wassup nigga?! Gangreen in this muthafucka!\nBubba Smith 'n shit! Back da fuck up, everybody up!!\nMy nigga too dirty up in this muthafucka! (Know what I'm sayin?!)\nDJ LS, Afficial Nast nigga! Fuck any DJ, yo Fuck Dat! (Any DJ nigga! Afficial Nast!)\nWord up, Fuck Dat! Niggas don't know! My muthafuckin' broher is sayin', Fuck Dat!\nBig Chris, Fuck Dat! Niggas ain't seein' shit! Afficial Nast! Yo eat 'em up!\nGet da fuck up outta here! (Car rushin' away)","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Fuck Dat feat Bubba Smith, Greg Valentine, J Mega, Sunshine & X1 (prod by Self)\n artist: Onyx\n album: Shut 'Em Down\n duration_ms: 299000\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n Yo! Turn that shit up, word up!\n Afficial Nasty Niggas... Fuck Dat!\n Ya niggas is dead-ass!\n Know what I'm sayin'?\n We're payin' my niggas ' All City 'n shit!\n Word up! Yo Mega, Fuck Dat!\n Rip that Brooklyn shit nigga!\n\n [J. Mega, (\n What? What? What? What? What? What?\n My fleet goals, by da creep cold\n We blaze, y'all won't see those, you just feel 'em\n We raise the states in this game, like helium\n The new millenium, got me in mo' for killin' 'em\n Green backs, I want a mil (of) 'em!\n But don't minimum, strictly max out, the ol's put the black out\n Niggas be frontin', we take the back rob\n Now stay with that style, original, wanna act wild?\n City puttin' cartracks out, as we stack now\n We're nuthin' to match out, formula\n See it clearly through my corner-ya\n This goes out to niggas on the corner, Mega's on ya\n Rap performer, no diploma, I'm sippin' on Corona, keep my carpet Coma\n The East New York Soldier, what?\n (Fuck Dat! That's the All City shit!\n Yo Greg Valentine!)\n\n [Greg Valentine, (Fredro Starr), {\n The beats be Rushen like Patrice\n You better had that bulletproof vest under ya fleece\n Then a clever sceam up ya slees, we has to say da least\n Between the thugs and the police, shit'll never be peace\n Cause holiday, raise ya weights ya hourly rate\n We poly for higher states, buyin' fire escapes\n See this, criminal life is like a 'roll it in dice'\n Niggas holdin' they ice, wild bust on a slice\n Yo it's too often too hot, in this ghetto meldin' pot\n Put out these fagat ass niggas try to steel what I got\n As if, that ain't enough, for Jakes is ratin' the spot\n Where we eat at, but tonight that's where they bleed at\n That belone her with the flame, throwin' their rain, it's over\n Prayed to Jehova, jiggaz up, the game's over\n (All City what, All City what?! Fuck Dat!\n Yo Sticky) {wassup nigga?}(Come here nigga, Fuck Dat!\n Let these muthafuckaz know nigga!!!) {I want some NEW SHIT!}\n (Afficial Nast! What?!!)\n\n [Sticky Fingaz, (\n Oh ooh, here the thug come, from out the dungeon\n Say goodbye to ya love one, you can't run from, the dum-dum\n Kickin' WACK SHIT! I cut out ya tongue son!\n I'm in this rap shit for the lump sum\n Hit the stage as soon as the blunt's done\n YOU DON'T WANT NONE! But regardless\n We the wildest, you get demolished\n I muthafuckin', muthafuckin' murder, want charges!\n Walkin' targets, kill any rap artist!\n Still hate ya GUTS!, and hope that ya DIE!\n If you not a ally, then yo ass gotta fry\n Two lifes for a life without no remorse\n You fucked up BIG TIME, you should've finished me off nigga!\n (What?! Fuck Dat! Fuck Dat!\n Afficial Nast what up?!\n Yo Lefty, I got a new nigga for ya niggas!\n Yo Fuck Dat! Step up and shit...)\n\n [Bubba Smith, (Fredro Starr), {X-\n I roll with gat-swingers, that bay arms like tanktops\n A bunch of problem bringers, that an ass bet ya wanna make your bank stop\n Guaranteed to make ya block hot, we runnin' the spots\n We're tired of jizzle 'n rocks, we straight up fuckin' in villains or jachts\n Got the Big Apple on smash like mobbs, we're livin' hell really?!\n So we just vanish 'n rob, paper tellin' me we all dyin' from a leg docs(?)\n So fuck it, it's even get it get-got, so what?!\n Bring it, I'm closin' now shut, I don't give a FUCK about gettin' popped\n Them thugs probably heard, left these two guns is al lot!\n It's my time to go, playa, I'm tryin' to go spittin' you\n For the dolies, niggas just press G-O\n While shoot outs, reachin' for the Glocks, on my way to gettin' drugs\n Still spittin' ya, 3-60 pill, I was drugged up, in a sixth still SHITTIN' ya\n Call it murder, besides anybody TRY to here missin'\n (Fuck Dat! Yo X -1 nigga!) {What nigga?}\n (Ya betta fuckin' do this shit nigga!) {What what, what, what?!}\n (Fuck Dat! Afficial Nasty Niggas!\n Fuckin' takin' this streets! That niggas is dead!)\n\n [X-1, (\n All you crack niggas, I don't even like your style\n If it wasn't for love, you be dead right now\n Speak upon the gun nor, X is layin' it down\n Dirty two rounds, sprayin' ya town\n Takin' dirt back under the ground, be a man, take ya laws\n Die with the sacred course, six's bein' deep on the basic floors\n (They hate that shit nigga! What?!\n Kick the our fuckin' shit! Fuck Dat!)\n Be a hard rock and see where you end up 'bout\n Before my hart stops, kid I'm tryin' to see some jacks\n You better get dropped dog, just read the facts\n Dig a gunshot, at least about bringin' you back\n I run in cold spots, or walk that for liquid cats\n X critical source, with criminal thoughts, under the physical laws\n Your visual lost, X-million now, nigga tripple the course\n I cripple your boss, what?!!\n\n [Fredro &\n Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\n Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\n Fuck Dat! Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\n Fuck Dat! Afficial Nast nigga!\n Word up! Fuckin' All City!\n Muthafuckin' Onyx!\n Muthafuckin' Fredro Starr talkin' to you nigga!\n Fuckin' Sonsee nigga! What da fuck is up?!\n Yo Sticky, wassup nigga?! Gangreen in this muthafucka!\n Bubba Smith 'n shit! Back da fuck up, everybody up!!\n My nigga too dirty up in this muthafucka! (Know what I'm sayin?!)\n DJ LS, Afficial Nast nigga! Fuck any DJ, yo Fuck Dat! (Any DJ nigga! Afficial Nast!)\n Word up, Fuck Dat! Niggas don't know! My muthafuckin' broher is sayin', Fuck Dat!\n Big Chris, Fuck Dat! Niggas ain't seein' shit! Afficial Nast! Yo eat 'em up!\n Get da fuck up outta here! (Car rushin' away)\n"}]