[{"id":16702499,"name":"Stray Bullet\u0000Stray Bullet","trackName":"Stray Bullet\u0000Stray Bullet","artistName":"Organized Konfusion","albumName":"The Greatest Rap","duration":221.7512,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Let the trigger finger put the pressure to the mechanism\nWhich gives a response, for the automatic\nClip to release projectiles in single file\nForcing me to ignite then travel through the barrel\n\nHeaded for the light at the end of a tunnel\nWith no specific target in sight\nSlow the flow like H2O water\nVisualize, the scene of a homicide, a slaughter\n\nNo remorse for the course I take\nWhen you pull it, the result's a stray bullet\nNiggaz who knew hit the ground runnin' and stay down\nExcept for the kids who played on the playground\n\n'Cause for some little girl, she'll never see more than six years of life\nTrifling, when she fell from the seesaw\nBut umm wait, my course isn't over\nFled out of the other side of her head towards a red Range Rover\n\nThen I ricochet fast past a brother's ass, oh damn\nWhat that nigga say, \"Aw fuck it\", next target's Margaret's face\nAnd I struck it, now it's a flood of blood in circumference to her face\nAnd an abundance of brains all over the street\n\nShame, how we had to meet, dashin', buckin'\nGreet by fuckin' family, they follow behind me in a orderly fashion\nBashin' through flesh, I'm wild crashin' through the doors\nOf projects hallways to deflect off of the tile\n\nI'm coming for you, little girl, once inside, I shatter your world\nSwirl, no more dreams no hopes when I spray\nYou better pray, to the Pope or the Vatican\nBefore I go rat-tat-a-tat again\n\nI'm mad again, brother, somebody's mother will be sad again\nBut, whose blue skies will turn gray\nFrom the attack, of the Mac-11, I'm a stray bullet\n\nNobody seen shit, nobody heard it\nNobody seen shit, nobody heard it\nNobody seen shit, nobody heard it\nNobody seen shit, nobody heard it\n\nGun balls of fire, I'm traveling at higher speeds\nTo proceed to penetrate flesh, hitting the splint\nAfter splitting the chest of a Queens fiend\nAge of pagers shredded to pieces from the Glock 9\n\nAnd it's hollow tips, it releases the polices in back of the ambulance\nBlood loss as I shift across your chest\nArrest, rupture, I mess up ya, slasher\nShall I bust ya liver, faster, blood pours\n\nNow it's up to the master, boom, as I crash open the doors\nThank me for spraying the operating room\nThe body still consumes me, doc had to remove me\nMmm Lord, why do they use me?\n\nI'm takin' individual for keeps Hobbes\nSo peep the cops, in the ghetto bustin' shots for props\nAnd when I hit, shit, soon you forgets-me-not\nCops tried to explain to his pops what I done\n\nI flip up the hollow tipper and I'm not the one\nAnd as a human I'm the surprising one\nPrince Po, I flow the ripper, either way\nYou never, ever know how I'm coming\n\nMetamorphasizing, rising in turbulence\nCondensed into a bullet, pull it, now I'm making moves\nWith no sympathizing, uh, so take a hit nigga, sprint\nOnto the scenario, I'm at a party with O\n\nA lot of honies parlay and the DJ's playin' the Fudge Pudge flow\nFive niggaz come up in the club for a rub\nYo, O peep it, oh shit, O duck\n(Oh shit! Oh shit!)\n\nAnother hit, another struck, here comes Mr. Stray Bullet\nFive, the tip, getting my jollies from the screams of the ripped\nIn your chest, then I flip, nip your liver, blood flowin' like a river\nMoney starts to shiver then I give a delivery of burns\n\nBruises fake shoes is your renaissance\nNo response your moms is out cold\nFigure I'm bigger takin' your heart nigga at twenty years old\nStray bullet","syncedLyrics":"[00:19.03] Let the trigger finger put the pressure to the mechanism\n[00:20.82] Which gives a response, for the automatic\n[00:23.64] Clip to release projectiles in single file\n[00:28.16] Forcing me to ignite then travel through the barrel\n[00:29.97] Headed for the light at the end of a tunnel\n[00:31.89] With no specific target in sight\n[00:33.68] Slow the flow like H2O water\n[00:35.42] Visualize, the scene of a homicide, a slaughter\n[00:38.12] No remorse for the course I take\n[00:39.98] When you pull it, the result's a stray bullet\n[00:42.78] Niggaz who knew hit the ground runnin' and stay down\n[00:45.40] Except for the kids who played on the playground\n[00:48.10] 'Cause for some little girl, she'll never see more than six years of life\n[00:50.86] Trifling, when she fell from the seesaw\n[00:54.53] But umm wait, my course isn't over\n[00:57.26] Fled out of the other side of her head towards a red Range Rover\n[01:00.82] Then I ricochet fast past a brother's ass, oh damn\n[01:03.65] What that nigga say, \"Aw fuck it\", next target's Margaret's face\n[01:07.25] And I struck it, now it's a flood of blood in circumference to her face\n[01:11.78] And an abundance of brains all over the street\n[01:13.58] Shame, how we had to meet, dashin', buckin'\n[01:16.26] Greet by fuckin' family, they follow behind me in a orderly fashion\n[01:20.87] Bashin' through flesh, I'm wild crashin' through the doors\n[01:23.56] Of projects hallways to deflect off of the tile\n[01:26.22] I'm coming for you, little girl, once inside, I shatter your world\n[01:30.81] Swirl, no more dreams no hopes when I spray\n[01:33.55] You better pray, to the Pope or the Vatican\n[01:36.24] Before I go rat-tat-a-tat again\n[01:38.08] I'm mad again, brother, somebody's mother will be sad again\n[01:39.85] But, whose blue skies will turn gray\n[01:42.59] From the attack, of the Mac-11, I'm a stray bullet\n[01:47.12] Nobody seen shit, nobody heard it\n[01:51.68] Nobody seen shit, nobody heard it\n[01:57.13] Nobody seen shit, nobody heard it\n[02:02.58] Nobody seen shit, nobody heard it\n[02:04.35] Gun balls of fire, I'm traveling at higher speeds\n[02:06.13] To proceed to penetrate flesh, hitting the splint\n[02:08.97] After splitting the chest of a Queens fiend\n[02:10.77] Age of pagers shredded to pieces from the Glock 9\n[02:13.45] And it's hollow tips, it releases the polices in back of the ambulance\n[02:16.16] Blood loss as I shift across your chest\n[02:18.86] Arrest, rupture, I mess up ya, slasher\n[02:20.66] Shall I bust ya liver, faster, blood pours\n[02:23.47] Now it's up to the master, boom, as I crash open the doors\n[02:25.22] Thank me for spraying the operating room\n[02:28.00] The body still consumes me, doc had to remove me\n[02:30.64] Mmm Lord, why do they use me?\n[02:32.46] I'm takin' individual for keeps Hobbes\n[02:35.14] So peep the cops, in the ghetto bustin' shots for props\n[02:37.98] And when I hit, shit, soon you forgets-me-not\n[02:41.53] Cops tried to explain to his pops what I done\n[02:44.22] I flip up the hollow tipper and I'm not the one\n[02:46.94] And as a human I'm the surprising one\n[02:48.80] Prince Po, I flow the ripper, either way\n[02:50.68] You never, ever know how I'm coming\n[02:51.57] Metamorphasizing, rising in turbulence\n[02:54.22] Condensed into a bullet, pull it, now I'm making moves\n[02:56.93] With no sympathizing, uh, so take a hit nigga, sprint\n[02:59.72] Onto the scenario, I'm at a party with O\n[03:03.31] A lot of honies parlay and the DJ's playin' the Fudge Pudge flow\n[03:06.09] Five niggaz come up in the club for a rub\n[03:08.81] Yo, O peep it, oh shit, O duck\n[03:14.23] (Oh shit! Oh shit!)\n[03:17.87] Another hit, another struck, here comes Mr. Stray Bullet\n[03:22.45] Five, the tip, getting my jollies from the screams of the ripped\n[03:25.12] In your chest, then I flip, nip your liver, blood flowin' like a river\n[03:28.72] Money starts to shiver then I give a delivery of burns\n[03:31.48] Bruises fake shoes is your renaissance\n[03:34.29] No response your moms is out cold\n[03:36.90] Figure I'm bigger takin' your heart nigga at twenty years old\n[03:39.63] Stray bullet\n[03:41.46] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: \"Stray Bullet\\0\\uFEFFStray Bullet\"\n  artist: Organized Konfusion\n  album: The Greatest Rap\n  duration_ms: 221751\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Let the trigger finger put the pressure to the mechanism\n  start_ms: 19030\n  end_ms: 20820\n- text: Which gives a response, for the automatic\n  start_ms: 20820\n  end_ms: 23640\n- text: Clip to release projectiles in single file\n  start_ms: 23640\n  end_ms: 28160\n- text: Forcing me to ignite then travel through the barrel\n  start_ms: 28160\n  end_ms: 29970\n- text: Headed for the light at the end of a tunnel\n  start_ms: 29970\n  end_ms: 31890\n- text: With no specific target in sight\n  start_ms: 31890\n  end_ms: 33680\n- text: Slow the flow like H2O water\n  start_ms: 33680\n  end_ms: 35420\n- text: Visualize, the scene of a homicide, a slaughter\n  start_ms: 35420\n  end_ms: 38120\n- text: No remorse for the course I take\n  start_ms: 38120\n  end_ms: 39980\n- text: When you pull it, the result's a stray bullet\n  start_ms: 39980\n  end_ms: 42780\n- text: Niggaz who knew hit the ground runnin' and stay down\n  start_ms: 42780\n  end_ms: 45400\n- text: Except for the kids who played on the playground\n  start_ms: 45400\n  end_ms: 48100\n- text: '''Cause for some little girl, she''ll never see more than six years of life'\n  start_ms: 48100\n  end_ms: 50860\n- text: Trifling, when she fell from the seesaw\n  start_ms: 50860\n  end_ms: 54530\n- text: But umm wait, my course isn't over\n  start_ms: 54530\n  end_ms: 57260\n- text: Fled out of the other side of her head towards a red Range Rover\n  start_ms: 57260\n  end_ms: 60820\n- text: Then I ricochet fast past a brother's ass, oh damn\n  start_ms: 60820\n  end_ms: 63650\n- text: What that nigga say, \"Aw fuck it\", next target's Margaret's face\n  start_ms: 63650\n  end_ms: 67250\n- text: And I struck it, now it's a flood of blood in circumference to her face\n  start_ms: 67250\n  end_ms: 71780\n- text: And an abundance of brains all over the street\n  start_ms: 71780\n  end_ms: 73580\n- text: Shame, how we had to meet, dashin', buckin'\n  start_ms: 73580\n  end_ms: 76260\n- text: Greet by fuckin' family, they follow behind me in a orderly fashion\n  start_ms: 76260\n  end_ms: 80870\n- text: Bashin' through flesh, I'm wild crashin' through the doors\n  start_ms: 80870\n  end_ms: 83560\n- text: Of projects hallways to deflect off of the tile\n  start_ms: 83560\n  end_ms: 86220\n- text: I'm coming for you, little girl, once inside, I shatter your world\n  start_ms: 86220\n  end_ms: 90810\n- text: Swirl, no more dreams no hopes when I spray\n  start_ms: 90810\n  end_ms: 93550\n- text: You better pray, to the Pope or the Vatican\n  start_ms: 93550\n  end_ms: 96240\n- text: Before I go rat-tat-a-tat again\n  start_ms: 96240\n  end_ms: 98080\n- text: I'm mad again, brother, somebody's mother will be sad again\n  start_ms: 98080\n  end_ms: 99850\n- text: But, whose blue skies will turn gray\n  start_ms: 99850\n  end_ms: 102590\n- text: From the attack, of the Mac-11, I'm a stray bullet\n  start_ms: 102590\n  end_ms: 107120\n- text: Nobody seen shit, nobody heard it\n  start_ms: 107120\n  end_ms: 111680\n- text: Nobody seen shit, nobody heard it\n  start_ms: 111680\n  end_ms: 117130\n- text: Nobody seen shit, nobody heard it\n  start_ms: 117130\n  end_ms: 122580\n- text: Nobody seen shit, nobody heard it\n  start_ms: 122580\n  end_ms: 124350\n- text: Gun balls of fire, I'm traveling at higher speeds\n  start_ms: 124350\n  end_ms: 126130\n- text: To proceed to penetrate flesh, hitting the splint\n  start_ms: 126130\n  end_ms: 128970\n- text: After splitting the chest of a Queens fiend\n  start_ms: 128970\n  end_ms: 130770\n- text: Age of pagers shredded to pieces from the Glock 9\n  start_ms: 130770\n  end_ms: 133450\n- text: And it's hollow tips, it releases the polices in back of the ambulance\n  start_ms: 133450\n  end_ms: 136160\n- text: Blood loss as I shift across your chest\n  start_ms: 136160\n  end_ms: 138860\n- text: Arrest, rupture, I mess up ya, slasher\n  start_ms: 138860\n  end_ms: 140660\n- text: Shall I bust ya liver, faster, blood pours\n  start_ms: 140660\n  end_ms: 143470\n- text: Now it's up to the master, boom, as I crash open the doors\n  start_ms: 143470\n  end_ms: 145220\n- text: Thank me for spraying the operating room\n  start_ms: 145220\n  end_ms: 148000\n- text: The body still consumes me, doc had to remove me\n  start_ms: 148000\n  end_ms: 150640\n- text: Mmm Lord, why do they use me?\n  start_ms: 150640\n  end_ms: 152460\n- text: I'm takin' individual for keeps Hobbes\n  start_ms: 152460\n  end_ms: 155140\n- text: So peep the cops, in the ghetto bustin' shots for props\n  start_ms: 155140\n  end_ms: 157980\n- text: And when I hit, shit, soon you forgets-me-not\n  start_ms: 157980\n  end_ms: 161530\n- text: Cops tried to explain to his pops what I done\n  start_ms: 161530\n  end_ms: 164220\n- text: I flip up the hollow tipper and I'm not the one\n  start_ms: 164220\n  end_ms: 166940\n- text: And as a human I'm the surprising one\n  start_ms: 166940\n  end_ms: 168800\n- text: Prince Po, I flow the ripper, either way\n  start_ms: 168800\n  end_ms: 170680\n- text: You never, ever know how I'm coming\n  start_ms: 170680\n  end_ms: 171570\n- text: Metamorphasizing, rising in turbulence\n  start_ms: 171570\n  end_ms: 174220\n- text: Condensed into a bullet, pull it, now I'm making moves\n  start_ms: 174220\n  end_ms: 176930\n- text: With no sympathizing, uh, so take a hit nigga, sprint\n  start_ms: 176930\n  end_ms: 179720\n- text: Onto the scenario, I'm at a party with O\n  start_ms: 179720\n  end_ms: 183310\n- text: A lot of honies parlay and the DJ's playin' the Fudge Pudge flow\n  start_ms: 183310\n  end_ms: 186090\n- text: Five niggaz come up in the club for a rub\n  start_ms: 186090\n  end_ms: 188810\n- text: Yo, O peep it, oh shit, O duck\n  start_ms: 188810\n  end_ms: 194230\n- text: (Oh shit! Oh shit!)\n  start_ms: 194230\n  end_ms: 197870\n- text: Another hit, another struck, here comes Mr. Stray Bullet\n  start_ms: 197870\n  end_ms: 202450\n- text: Five, the tip, getting my jollies from the screams of the ripped\n  start_ms: 202450\n  end_ms: 205120\n- text: In your chest, then I flip, nip your liver, blood flowin' like a river\n  start_ms: 205120\n  end_ms: 208720\n- text: Money starts to shiver then I give a delivery of burns\n  start_ms: 208720\n  end_ms: 211480\n- text: Bruises fake shoes is your renaissance\n  start_ms: 211480\n  end_ms: 214290\n- text: No response your moms is out cold\n  start_ms: 214290\n  end_ms: 216900\n- text: Figure I'm bigger takin' your heart nigga at twenty years old\n  start_ms: 216900\n  end_ms: 219630\n- text: Stray bullet\n  start_ms: 219630\n  end_ms: 221460\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 221460\nplain: |-\n  Let the trigger finger put the pressure to the mechanism\n  Which gives a response, for the automatic\n  Clip to release projectiles in single file\n  Forcing me to ignite then travel through the barrel\n\n  Headed for the light at the end of a tunnel\n  With no specific target in sight\n  Slow the flow like H2O water\n  Visualize, the scene of a homicide, a slaughter\n\n  No remorse for the course I take\n  When you pull it, the result's a stray bullet\n  Niggaz who knew hit the ground runnin' and stay down\n  Except for the kids who played on the playground\n\n  'Cause for some little girl, she'll never see more than six years of life\n  Trifling, when she fell from the seesaw\n  But umm wait, my course isn't over\n  Fled out of the other side of her head towards a red Range Rover\n\n  Then I ricochet fast past a brother's ass, oh damn\n  What that nigga say, \"Aw fuck it\", next target's Margaret's face\n  And I struck it, now it's a flood of blood in circumference to her face\n  And an abundance of brains all over the street\n\n  Shame, how we had to meet, dashin', buckin'\n  Greet by fuckin' family, they follow behind me in a orderly fashion\n  Bashin' through flesh, I'm wild crashin' through the doors\n  Of projects hallways to deflect off of the tile\n\n  I'm coming for you, little girl, once inside, I shatter your world\n  Swirl, no more dreams no hopes when I spray\n  You better pray, to the Pope or the Vatican\n  Before I go rat-tat-a-tat again\n\n  I'm mad again, brother, somebody's mother will be sad again\n  But, whose blue skies will turn gray\n  From the attack, of the Mac-11, I'm a stray bullet\n\n  Nobody seen shit, nobody heard it\n  Nobody seen shit, nobody heard it\n  Nobody seen shit, nobody heard it\n  Nobody seen shit, nobody heard it\n\n  Gun balls of fire, I'm traveling at higher speeds\n  To proceed to penetrate flesh, hitting the splint\n  After splitting the chest of a Queens fiend\n  Age of pagers shredded to pieces from the Glock 9\n\n  And it's hollow tips, it releases the polices in back of the ambulance\n  Blood loss as I shift across your chest\n  Arrest, rupture, I mess up ya, slasher\n  Shall I bust ya liver, faster, blood pours\n\n  Now it's up to the master, boom, as I crash open the doors\n  Thank me for spraying the operating room\n  The body still consumes me, doc had to remove me\n  Mmm Lord, why do they use me?\n\n  I'm takin' individual for keeps Hobbes\n  So peep the cops, in the ghetto bustin' shots for props\n  And when I hit, shit, soon you forgets-me-not\n  Cops tried to explain to his pops what I done\n\n  I flip up the hollow tipper and I'm not the one\n  And as a human I'm the surprising one\n  Prince Po, I flow the ripper, either way\n  You never, ever know how I'm coming\n\n  Metamorphasizing, rising in turbulence\n  Condensed into a bullet, pull it, now I'm making moves\n  With no sympathizing, uh, so take a hit nigga, sprint\n  Onto the scenario, I'm at a party with O\n\n  A lot of honies parlay and the DJ's playin' the Fudge Pudge flow\n  Five niggaz come up in the club for a rub\n  Yo, O peep it, oh shit, O duck\n  (Oh shit! Oh shit!)\n\n  Another hit, another struck, here comes Mr. Stray Bullet\n  Five, the tip, getting my jollies from the screams of the ripped\n  In your chest, then I flip, nip your liver, blood flowin' like a river\n  Money starts to shiver then I give a delivery of burns\n\n  Bruises fake shoes is your renaissance\n  No response your moms is out cold\n  Figure I'm bigger takin' your heart nigga at twenty years old\n  Stray bullet\n"},{"id":98029,"name":"Stray Bullet","trackName":"Stray Bullet","artistName":"Organized Konfusion","albumName":"Stress: The Extinction Agenda","duration":222.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Verse one: pharoahe monche\n\nLet the trigger finger put the pressure to the mechanism\nWhich gives a response for the automatic *bang*\nClip to release projectiles in single\nFile forcing me to ignite then travel\nThrough the barrel headed for the light\nAt the end of a tunnel with no specific target in sight\nSlow the flow like h2o water\nVisualize the scene of a homicide a slaughter\nNo remorse for the course i take when you pull it\nThe result's a stray bullet\nNiggaz who knew hit the ground runnin and stay down\nExcept for the kids who played on the playground\nCause for some little girl she'll never see\nMore than six years of life, trif-le-ing\nWhen she fell from the seesaw\nBut umm wait, my course isn't over\nFled out of the other side of her head towards\nA red, range, rover, then i ricochet\nFast past a brother's ass, oh damn, what that nigga say\n\"Aww fuck it\", next target's margaret's face *bang*\nAnd i struck it\nNow it's a flood of blood in circumfrence to her face\nAnd an abundance of brains all over the street\nShame how we had to meet *bang*\nDashin, buckin, greet by fuckin family\nThey follow behind me in a orderly fashion\nBashin through flesh i'm wild\nCrashin through the doors of projects hallways\nTo deflect off of the tile\nI'm coming for you little girl\nOnce inside i shatter your world\nSwirl, no more dreams no hopes when i spray\nYou better pray, to the pope or the vatican\nBefore i go rat-tat-a-tat again\nI'm mad again brother somebody's mother will be sad again\nBut, whose blue skies will turn grey\n\nFrom the attack, of the mac-11, i'm a stray, bullet\n\n[Nobody seen shit, nobody heard it -- 4x]\n\nVerse two: prince poetry\n\nGun balls of fire, i'm travelling at higher speeds\nTo proceed to penetrate flesh, hitting the splint\nAfter splitting the chest of a queens fiend\nAge of pagers shredded to pieces from the glock 9\nAnd it's hollow tips, it releases the polices\nIn back of the ambulance\nBlood loss as i shift across your chest\nArrest, rupture, i mess up ya, slasher\nShall i bust ya liver, faster, blood pours *bang*\nNow it's up to the master, boom, as i crash open the doors\nThank me for spraying the operating room\nThe body still consumes me, doc had to remove me\nMmm lord, why do they use me? *bang*\nI'm takin individual for keeps hobbes\nSo peep the cops, in the ghetto bustin shots for props\nAnd when i hit, shit *bang bang bang bang*\nSoon you forgets-me-not\nCops tried to explain to his pops what i done\nI flip up the hollow tipper and i'm not the one\nAnd as a human i'm the surprising one\nPrince po i flow the ripper, either way\nYou never, ever know how i'm coming\nMetamorphasizing, rising in turbulence\nCondensed into a bullet, pull it, now i'm making moves\nWith no sympathizing, uhh, so take a hit nigga, sprint *bang*\nOnto the scenario, i'm at a party with o\nA lot of honies parlay and the dj's playin the fudge pudge flow\nFive niggaz come up in the club for a rub\n[Yo o peep it, oh shit o duck (oh shit!, oh shit!)\n*Pop pop pop pop pop* *woman screams*]\nAnother hit, another struck\nHere comes mr. stray bullet\nFive, the tip, getting my jollies from the screams of the ripped\nIn your chest, then i flip\nNip your liver, blood flowin like a river\nMoney starts to shiver then i give a delivery of burns\nBruises fake shoes is your renaissance\nNo response your moms is out cold\nFigure i'm bigger takin your heart nigga at twenty years old\nStray bullet","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Stray Bullet\n  artist: Organized Konfusion\n  album: 'Stress: The Extinction Agenda'\n  duration_ms: 222000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Verse one: pharoahe monche\n\n  Let the trigger finger put the pressure to the mechanism\n  Which gives a response for the automatic *bang*\n  Clip to release projectiles in single\n  File forcing me to ignite then travel\n  Through the barrel headed for the light\n  At the end of a tunnel with no specific target in sight\n  Slow the flow like h2o water\n  Visualize the scene of a homicide a slaughter\n  No remorse for the course i take when you pull it\n  The result's a stray bullet\n  Niggaz who knew hit the ground runnin and stay down\n  Except for the kids who played on the playground\n  Cause for some little girl she'll never see\n  More than six years of life, trif-le-ing\n  When she fell from the seesaw\n  But umm wait, my course isn't over\n  Fled out of the other side of her head towards\n  A red, range, rover, then i ricochet\n  Fast past a brother's ass, oh damn, what that nigga say\n  \"Aww fuck it\", next target's margaret's face *bang*\n  And i struck it\n  Now it's a flood of blood in circumfrence to her face\n  And an abundance of brains all over the street\n  Shame how we had to meet *bang*\n  Dashin, buckin, greet by fuckin family\n  They follow behind me in a orderly fashion\n  Bashin through flesh i'm wild\n  Crashin through the doors of projects hallways\n  To deflect off of the tile\n  I'm coming for you little girl\n  Once inside i shatter your world\n  Swirl, no more dreams no hopes when i spray\n  You better pray, to the pope or the vatican\n  Before i go rat-tat-a-tat again\n  I'm mad again brother somebody's mother will be sad again\n  But, whose blue skies will turn grey\n\n  From the attack, of the mac-11, i'm a stray, bullet\n\n  [Nobody seen shit, nobody heard it -- 4x]\n\n  Verse two: prince poetry\n\n  Gun balls of fire, i'm travelling at higher speeds\n  To proceed to penetrate flesh, hitting the splint\n  After splitting the chest of a queens fiend\n  Age of pagers shredded to pieces from the glock 9\n  And it's hollow tips, it releases the polices\n  In back of the ambulance\n  Blood loss as i shift across your chest\n  Arrest, rupture, i mess up ya, slasher\n  Shall i bust ya liver, faster, blood pours *bang*\n  Now it's up to the master, boom, as i crash open the doors\n  Thank me for spraying the operating room\n  The body still consumes me, doc had to remove me\n  Mmm lord, why do they use me? *bang*\n  I'm takin individual for keeps hobbes\n  So peep the cops, in the ghetto bustin shots for props\n  And when i hit, shit *bang bang bang bang*\n  Soon you forgets-me-not\n  Cops tried to explain to his pops what i done\n  I flip up the hollow tipper and i'm not the one\n  And as a human i'm the surprising one\n  Prince po i flow the ripper, either way\n  You never, ever know how i'm coming\n  Metamorphasizing, rising in turbulence\n  Condensed into a bullet, pull it, now i'm making moves\n  With no sympathizing, uhh, so take a hit nigga, sprint *bang*\n  Onto the scenario, i'm at a party with o\n  A lot of honies parlay and the dj's playin the fudge pudge flow\n  Five niggaz come up in the club for a rub\n  [Yo o peep it, oh shit o duck (oh shit!, oh shit!)\n  *Pop pop pop pop pop* *woman screams*]\n  Another hit, another struck\n  Here comes mr. stray bullet\n  Five, the tip, getting my jollies from the screams of the ripped\n  In your chest, then i flip\n  Nip your liver, blood flowin like a river\n  Money starts to shiver then i give a delivery of burns\n  Bruises fake shoes is your renaissance\n  No response your moms is out cold\n  Figure i'm bigger takin your heart nigga at twenty years old\n  Stray bullet\n"},{"id":21080386,"name":"Stray Bullet","trackName":"Stray Bullet","artistName":"Organized Konfusion","albumName":"Stress: The Extinction Agenda (CD 1)","duration":221.857959,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Verse one: pharoahe monche\n\nLet the trigger finger put the pressure to the mechanism\nWhich gives a response for the automatic *bang*\nClip to release projectiles in single\nFile forcing me to ignite then travel\nThrough the barrel headed for the light\nAt the end of a tunnel with no specific target in sight\nSlow the flow like h2o water\nVisualize the scene of a homicide a slaughter\nNo remorse for the course i take when you pull it\nThe result's a stray bullet\nNiggaz who knew hit the ground runnin and stay down\nExcept for the kids who played on the playground\nCause for some little girl she'll never see\nMore than six years of life, trif-le-ing\nWhen she fell from the seesaw\nBut umm wait, my course isn't over\nFled out of the other side of her head towards\nA red, range, rover, then i ricochet\nFast past a brother's ass, oh damn, what that nigga say\n\"Aww fuck it\", next target's margaret's face *bang*\nAnd i struck it\nNow it's a flood of blood in circumfrence to her face\nAnd an abundance of brains all over the street\nShame how we had to meet *bang*\nDashin, buckin, greet by fuckin family\nThey follow behind me in a orderly fashion\nBashin through flesh i'm wild\nCrashin through the doors of projects hallways\nTo deflect off of the tile\nI'm coming for you little girl\nOnce inside i shatter your world\nSwirl, no more dreams no hopes when i spray\nYou better pray, to the pope or the vatican\nBefore i go rat-tat-a-tat again\nI'm mad again brother somebody's mother will be sad again\nBut, whose blue skies will turn grey\n\nFrom the attack, of the mac-11, i'm a stray, bullet\n\n[Nobody seen shit, nobody heard it -- 4x]\n\nVerse two: prince poetry\n\nGun balls of fire, i'm travelling at higher speeds\nTo proceed to penetrate flesh, hitting the splint\nAfter splitting the chest of a queens fiend\nAge of pagers shredded to pieces from the glock 9\nAnd it's hollow tips, it releases the polices\nIn back of the ambulance\nBlood loss as i shift across your chest\nArrest, rupture, i mess up ya, slasher\nShall i bust ya liver, faster, blood pours *bang*\nNow it's up to the master, boom, as i crash open the doors\nThank me for spraying the operating room\nThe body still consumes me, doc had to remove me\nMmm lord, why do they use me? *bang*\nI'm takin individual for keeps hobbes\nSo peep the cops, in the ghetto bustin shots for props\nAnd when i hit, shit *bang bang bang bang*\nSoon you forgets-me-not\nCops tried to explain to his pops what i done\nI flip up the hollow tipper and i'm not the one\nAnd as a human i'm the surprising one\nPrince po i flow the ripper, either way\nYou never, ever know how i'm coming\nMetamorphasizing, rising in turbulence\nCondensed into a bullet, pull it, now i'm making moves\nWith no sympathizing, uhh, so take a hit nigga, sprint *bang*\nOnto the scenario, i'm at a party with o\nA lot of honies parlay and the dj's playin the fudge pudge flow\nFive niggaz come up in the club for a rub\n[Yo o peep it, oh shit o duck (oh shit!, oh shit!)\n*Pop pop pop pop pop* *woman screams*]\nAnother hit, another struck\nHere comes mr. stray bullet\nFive, the tip, getting my jollies from the screams of the ripped\nIn your chest, then i flip\nNip your liver, blood flowin like a river\nMoney starts to shiver then i give a delivery of burns\nBruises fake shoes is your renaissance\nNo response your moms is out cold\nFigure i'm bigger takin your heart nigga at twenty years old\nStray bullet","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Stray Bullet\n  artist: Organized Konfusion\n  album: 'Stress: The Extinction Agenda (CD 1)'\n  duration_ms: 221858\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Verse one: pharoahe monche\n\n  Let the trigger finger put the pressure to the mechanism\n  Which gives a response for the automatic *bang*\n  Clip to release projectiles in single\n  File forcing me to ignite then travel\n  Through the barrel headed for the light\n  At the end of a tunnel with no specific target in sight\n  Slow the flow like h2o water\n  Visualize the scene of a homicide a slaughter\n  No remorse for the course i take when you pull it\n  The result's a stray bullet\n  Niggaz who knew hit the ground runnin and stay down\n  Except for the kids who played on the playground\n  Cause for some little girl she'll never see\n  More than six years of life, trif-le-ing\n  When she fell from the seesaw\n  But umm wait, my course isn't over\n  Fled out of the other side of her head towards\n  A red, range, rover, then i ricochet\n  Fast past a brother's ass, oh damn, what that nigga say\n  \"Aww fuck it\", next target's margaret's face *bang*\n  And i struck it\n  Now it's a flood of blood in circumfrence to her face\n  And an abundance of brains all over the street\n  Shame how we had to meet *bang*\n  Dashin, buckin, greet by fuckin family\n  They follow behind me in a orderly fashion\n  Bashin through flesh i'm wild\n  Crashin through the doors of projects hallways\n  To deflect off of the tile\n  I'm coming for you little girl\n  Once inside i shatter your world\n  Swirl, no more dreams no hopes when i spray\n  You better pray, to the pope or the vatican\n  Before i go rat-tat-a-tat again\n  I'm mad again brother somebody's mother will be sad again\n  But, whose blue skies will turn grey\n\n  From the attack, of the mac-11, i'm a stray, bullet\n\n  [Nobody seen shit, nobody heard it -- 4x]\n\n  Verse two: prince poetry\n\n  Gun balls of fire, i'm travelling at higher speeds\n  To proceed to penetrate flesh, hitting the splint\n  After splitting the chest of a queens fiend\n  Age of pagers shredded to pieces from the glock 9\n  And it's hollow tips, it releases the polices\n  In back of the ambulance\n  Blood loss as i shift across your chest\n  Arrest, rupture, i mess up ya, slasher\n  Shall i bust ya liver, faster, blood pours *bang*\n  Now it's up to the master, boom, as i crash open the doors\n  Thank me for spraying the operating room\n  The body still consumes me, doc had to remove me\n  Mmm lord, why do they use me? *bang*\n  I'm takin individual for keeps hobbes\n  So peep the cops, in the ghetto bustin shots for props\n  And when i hit, shit *bang bang bang bang*\n  Soon you forgets-me-not\n  Cops tried to explain to his pops what i done\n  I flip up the hollow tipper and i'm not the one\n  And as a human i'm the surprising one\n  Prince po i flow the ripper, either way\n  You never, ever know how i'm coming\n  Metamorphasizing, rising in turbulence\n  Condensed into a bullet, pull it, now i'm making moves\n  With no sympathizing, uhh, so take a hit nigga, sprint *bang*\n  Onto the scenario, i'm at a party with o\n  A lot of honies parlay and the dj's playin the fudge pudge flow\n  Five niggaz come up in the club for a rub\n  [Yo o peep it, oh shit o duck (oh shit!, oh shit!)\n  *Pop pop pop pop pop* *woman screams*]\n  Another hit, another struck\n  Here comes mr. stray bullet\n  Five, the tip, getting my jollies from the screams of the ripped\n  In your chest, then i flip\n  Nip your liver, blood flowin like a river\n  Money starts to shiver then i give a delivery of burns\n  Bruises fake shoes is your renaissance\n  No response your moms is out cold\n  Figure i'm bigger takin your heart nigga at twenty years old\n  Stray bullet\n"},{"id":18603798,"name":"Stray Bullet","trackName":"Stray Bullet","artistName":"Organized Konfusion","albumName":"1000 Greatest Hip-Hop & Rap Songs","duration":221.753469,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Verse one: pharoahe monche\n\nLet the trigger finger put the pressure to the mechanism\nWhich gives a response for the automatic *bang*\nClip to release projectiles in single\nFile forcing me to ignite then travel\nThrough the barrel headed for the light\nAt the end of a tunnel with no specific target in sight\nSlow the flow like h2o water\nVisualize the scene of a homicide a slaughter\nNo remorse for the course i take when you pull it\nThe result's a stray bullet\nNiggaz who knew hit the ground runnin and stay down\nExcept for the kids who played on the playground\nCause for some little girl she'll never see\nMore than six years of life, trif-le-ing\nWhen she fell from the seesaw\nBut umm wait, my course isn't over\nFled out of the other side of her head towards\nA red, range, rover, then i ricochet\nFast past a brother's ass, oh damn, what that nigga say\n\"aww fuck it\", next target's margaret's face *bang*\nAnd i struck it\nNow it's a flood of blood in circumfrence to her face\nAnd an abundance of brains all over the street\nShame how we had to meet *bang*\nDashin, buckin, greet by fuckin family\nThey follow behind me in a orderly fashion\nBashin through flesh i'm wild\nCrashin through the doors of projects hallways\nTo deflect off of the tile\nI'm coming for you little girl\nOnce inside i shatter your world\nSwirl, no more dreams no hopes when i spray\nYou better pray, to the pope or the vatican\nBefore i go rat-tat-a-tat again\nI'm mad again brother somebody's mother will be sad again\nBut, whose blue skies will turn grey\n\nFrom the attack, of the mac-11, i'm a stray, bullet\n\n[nobody seen shit, nobody heard it -- 4x]\n\nVerse two: prince poetry\n\nGun balls of fire, i'm travelling at higher speeds\nTo proceed to penetrate flesh, hitting the splint\nAfter splitting the chest of a queens fiend\nAge of pagers shredded to pieces from the glock 9\nAnd it's hollow tips, it releases the polices\nIn back of the ambulance\nBlood loss as i shift across your chest\nArrest, rupture, i mess up ya, slasher\nShall i bust ya liver, faster, blood pours *bang*\nNow it's up to the master, boom, as i crash open the doors\nThank me for spraying the operating room\nThe body still consumes me, doc had to remove me\nMmm lord, why do they use me? *bang*\nI'm takin individual for keeps hobbes\nSo peep the cops, in the ghetto bustin shots for props\nAnd when i hit, shit *bang bang bang bang*\nSoon you forgets-me-not\nCops tried to explain to his pops what i done\nI flip up the hollow tipper and i'm not the one\nAnd as a human i'm the surprising one\nPrince po i flow the ripper, either way\nYou never, ever know how i'm coming\nMetamorphasizing, rising in turbulence\nCondensed into a bullet, pull it, now i'm making moves\nWith no sympathizing, uhh, so take a hit nigga, sprint *bang*\nOnto the scenario, i'm at a party with o\nA lot of honies parlay and the dj's playin the fudge pudge flow\nFive niggaz come up in the club for a rub\n[yo o peep it, oh shit o duck (oh shit!, oh shit!)\n*pop pop pop pop pop* *woman screams*]\nAnother hit, another struck\nHere comes mr. stray bullet\nFive, the tip, getting my jollies from the screams of the ripped\nIn your chest, then i flip\nNip your liver, blood flowin like a river\nMoney starts to shiver then i give a delivery of burns\nBruises fake shoes is your renaissance\nNo response your moms is out cold\nFigure i'm bigger takin your heart nigga at twenty years old\nStray bullet","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Stray Bullet\n  artist: Organized Konfusion\n  album: 1000 Greatest Hip-Hop & Rap Songs\n  duration_ms: 221753\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Verse one: pharoahe monche\n\n  Let the trigger finger put the pressure to the mechanism\n  Which gives a response for the automatic *bang*\n  Clip to release projectiles in single\n  File forcing me to ignite then travel\n  Through the barrel headed for the light\n  At the end of a tunnel with no specific target in sight\n  Slow the flow like h2o water\n  Visualize the scene of a homicide a slaughter\n  No remorse for the course i take when you pull it\n  The result's a stray bullet\n  Niggaz who knew hit the ground runnin and stay down\n  Except for the kids who played on the playground\n  Cause for some little girl she'll never see\n  More than six years of life, trif-le-ing\n  When she fell from the seesaw\n  But umm wait, my course isn't over\n  Fled out of the other side of her head towards\n  A red, range, rover, then i ricochet\n  Fast past a brother's ass, oh damn, what that nigga say\n  \"aww fuck it\", next target's margaret's face *bang*\n  And i struck it\n  Now it's a flood of blood in circumfrence to her face\n  And an abundance of brains all over the street\n  Shame how we had to meet *bang*\n  Dashin, buckin, greet by fuckin family\n  They follow behind me in a orderly fashion\n  Bashin through flesh i'm wild\n  Crashin through the doors of projects hallways\n  To deflect off of the tile\n  I'm coming for you little girl\n  Once inside i shatter your world\n  Swirl, no more dreams no hopes when i spray\n  You better pray, to the pope or the vatican\n  Before i go rat-tat-a-tat again\n  I'm mad again brother somebody's mother will be sad again\n  But, whose blue skies will turn grey\n\n  From the attack, of the mac-11, i'm a stray, bullet\n\n  [nobody seen shit, nobody heard it -- 4x]\n\n  Verse two: prince poetry\n\n  Gun balls of fire, i'm travelling at higher speeds\n  To proceed to penetrate flesh, hitting the splint\n  After splitting the chest of a queens fiend\n  Age of pagers shredded to pieces from the glock 9\n  And it's hollow tips, it releases the polices\n  In back of the ambulance\n  Blood loss as i shift across your chest\n  Arrest, rupture, i mess up ya, slasher\n  Shall i bust ya liver, faster, blood pours *bang*\n  Now it's up to the master, boom, as i crash open the doors\n  Thank me for spraying the operating room\n  The body still consumes me, doc had to remove me\n  Mmm lord, why do they use me? *bang*\n  I'm takin individual for keeps hobbes\n  So peep the cops, in the ghetto bustin shots for props\n  And when i hit, shit *bang bang bang bang*\n  Soon you forgets-me-not\n  Cops tried to explain to his pops what i done\n  I flip up the hollow tipper and i'm not the one\n  And as a human i'm the surprising one\n  Prince po i flow the ripper, either way\n  You never, ever know how i'm coming\n  Metamorphasizing, rising in turbulence\n  Condensed into a bullet, pull it, now i'm making moves\n  With no sympathizing, uhh, so take a hit nigga, sprint *bang*\n  Onto the scenario, i'm at a party with o\n  A lot of honies parlay and the dj's playin the fudge pudge flow\n  Five niggaz come up in the club for a rub\n  [yo o peep it, oh shit o duck (oh shit!, oh shit!)\n  *pop pop pop pop pop* *woman screams*]\n  Another hit, another struck\n  Here comes mr. stray bullet\n  Five, the tip, getting my jollies from the screams of the ripped\n  In your chest, then i flip\n  Nip your liver, blood flowin like a river\n  Money starts to shiver then i give a delivery of burns\n  Bruises fake shoes is your renaissance\n  No response your moms is out cold\n  Figure i'm bigger takin your heart nigga at twenty years old\n  Stray bullet\n"},{"id":22649160,"name":"Stray Bullet","trackName":"Stray Bullet","artistName":"Organized Konfusion","albumName":"Stress: The Extinction Agenda (deluxe redux)","duration":245.293333,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Verse one: pharoahe monche\n\nLet the trigger finger put the pressure to the mechanism\nWhich gives a response for the automatic *bang*\nClip to release projectiles in single\nFile forcing me to ignite then travel\nThrough the barrel headed for the light\nAt the end of a tunnel with no specific target in sight\nSlow the flow like h2o water\nVisualize the scene of a homicide a slaughter\nNo remorse for the course i take when you pull it\nThe result's a stray bullet\nNiggaz who knew hit the ground runnin and stay down\nExcept for the kids who played on the playground\nCause for some little girl she'll never see\nMore than six years of life, trif-le-ing\nWhen she fell from the seesaw\nBut umm wait, my course isn't over\nFled out of the other side of her head towards\nA red, range, rover, then i ricochet\nFast past a brother's ass, oh damn, what that nigga say\n\"Aww fuck it\", next target's margaret's face *bang*\nAnd i struck it\nNow it's a flood of blood in circumfrence to her face\nAnd an abundance of brains all over the street\nShame how we had to meet *bang*\nDashin, buckin, greet by fuckin family\nThey follow behind me in a orderly fashion\nBashin through flesh i'm wild\nCrashin through the doors of projects hallways\nTo deflect off of the tile\nI'm coming for you little girl\nOnce inside i shatter your world\nSwirl, no more dreams no hopes when i spray\nYou better pray, to the pope or the vatican\nBefore i go rat-tat-a-tat again\nI'm mad again brother somebody's mother will be sad again\nBut, whose blue skies will turn grey\n\nFrom the attack, of the mac-11, i'm a stray, bullet\n\n[Nobody seen shit, nobody heard it -- 4x]\n\nVerse two: prince poetry\n\nGun balls of fire, i'm travelling at higher speeds\nTo proceed to penetrate flesh, hitting the splint\nAfter splitting the chest of a queens fiend\nAge of pagers shredded to pieces from the glock 9\nAnd it's hollow tips, it releases the polices\nIn back of the ambulance\nBlood loss as i shift across your chest\nArrest, rupture, i mess up ya, slasher\nShall i bust ya liver, faster, blood pours *bang*\nNow it's up to the master, boom, as i crash open the doors\nThank me for spraying the operating room\nThe body still consumes me, doc had to remove me\nMmm lord, why do they use me? *bang*\nI'm takin individual for keeps hobbes\nSo peep the cops, in the ghetto bustin shots for props\nAnd when i hit, shit *bang bang bang bang*\nSoon you forgets-me-not\nCops tried to explain to his pops what i done\nI flip up the hollow tipper and i'm not the one\nAnd as a human i'm the surprising one\nPrince po i flow the ripper, either way\nYou never, ever know how i'm coming\nMetamorphasizing, rising in turbulence\nCondensed into a bullet, pull it, now i'm making moves\nWith no sympathizing, uhh, so take a hit nigga, sprint *bang*\nOnto the scenario, i'm at a party with o\nA lot of honies parlay and the dj's playin the fudge pudge flow\nFive niggaz come up in the club for a rub\n[Yo o peep it, oh shit o duck (oh shit!, oh shit!)\n*Pop pop pop pop pop* *woman screams*]\nAnother hit, another struck\nHere comes mr. stray bullet\nFive, the tip, getting my jollies from the screams of the ripped\nIn your chest, then i flip\nNip your liver, blood flowin like a river\nMoney starts to shiver then i give a delivery of burns\nBruises fake shoes is your renaissance\nNo response your moms is out cold\nFigure i'm bigger takin your heart nigga at twenty years old\nStray bullet","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Stray Bullet\n  artist: Organized Konfusion\n  album: 'Stress: The Extinction Agenda (deluxe redux)'\n  duration_ms: 245293\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Verse one: pharoahe monche\n\n  Let the trigger finger put the pressure to the mechanism\n  Which gives a response for the automatic *bang*\n  Clip to release projectiles in single\n  File forcing me to ignite then travel\n  Through the barrel headed for the light\n  At the end of a tunnel with no specific target in sight\n  Slow the flow like h2o water\n  Visualize the scene of a homicide a slaughter\n  No remorse for the course i take when you pull it\n  The result's a stray bullet\n  Niggaz who knew hit the ground runnin and stay down\n  Except for the kids who played on the playground\n  Cause for some little girl she'll never see\n  More than six years of life, trif-le-ing\n  When she fell from the seesaw\n  But umm wait, my course isn't over\n  Fled out of the other side of her head towards\n  A red, range, rover, then i ricochet\n  Fast past a brother's ass, oh damn, what that nigga say\n  \"Aww fuck it\", next target's margaret's face *bang*\n  And i struck it\n  Now it's a flood of blood in circumfrence to her face\n  And an abundance of brains all over the street\n  Shame how we had to meet *bang*\n  Dashin, buckin, greet by fuckin family\n  They follow behind me in a orderly fashion\n  Bashin through flesh i'm wild\n  Crashin through the doors of projects hallways\n  To deflect off of the tile\n  I'm coming for you little girl\n  Once inside i shatter your world\n  Swirl, no more dreams no hopes when i spray\n  You better pray, to the pope or the vatican\n  Before i go rat-tat-a-tat again\n  I'm mad again brother somebody's mother will be sad again\n  But, whose blue skies will turn grey\n\n  From the attack, of the mac-11, i'm a stray, bullet\n\n  [Nobody seen shit, nobody heard it -- 4x]\n\n  Verse two: prince poetry\n\n  Gun balls of fire, i'm travelling at higher speeds\n  To proceed to penetrate flesh, hitting the splint\n  After splitting the chest of a queens fiend\n  Age of pagers shredded to pieces from the glock 9\n  And it's hollow tips, it releases the polices\n  In back of the ambulance\n  Blood loss as i shift across your chest\n  Arrest, rupture, i mess up ya, slasher\n  Shall i bust ya liver, faster, blood pours *bang*\n  Now it's up to the master, boom, as i crash open the doors\n  Thank me for spraying the operating room\n  The body still consumes me, doc had to remove me\n  Mmm lord, why do they use me? *bang*\n  I'm takin individual for keeps hobbes\n  So peep the cops, in the ghetto bustin shots for props\n  And when i hit, shit *bang bang bang bang*\n  Soon you forgets-me-not\n  Cops tried to explain to his pops what i done\n  I flip up the hollow tipper and i'm not the one\n  And as a human i'm the surprising one\n  Prince po i flow the ripper, either way\n  You never, ever know how i'm coming\n  Metamorphasizing, rising in turbulence\n  Condensed into a bullet, pull it, now i'm making moves\n  With no sympathizing, uhh, so take a hit nigga, sprint *bang*\n  Onto the scenario, i'm at a party with o\n  A lot of honies parlay and the dj's playin the fudge pudge flow\n  Five niggaz come up in the club for a rub\n  [Yo o peep it, oh shit o duck (oh shit!, oh shit!)\n  *Pop pop pop pop pop* *woman screams*]\n  Another hit, another struck\n  Here comes mr. stray bullet\n  Five, the tip, getting my jollies from the screams of the ripped\n  In your chest, then i flip\n  Nip your liver, blood flowin like a river\n  Money starts to shiver then i give a delivery of burns\n  Bruises fake shoes is your renaissance\n  No response your moms is out cold\n  Figure i'm bigger takin your heart nigga at twenty years old\n  Stray bullet\n"},{"id":21504989,"name":"Stray Bullet","trackName":"Stray Bullet","artistName":"Organized Konfusion","albumName":"Top 1000 Hip Hop","duration":222.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Verse one: pharoahe monche\n\nLet the trigger finger put the pressure to the mechanism\nWhich gives a response for the automatic *bang*\nClip to release projectiles in single\nFile forcing me to ignite then travel\nThrough the barrel headed for the light\nAt the end of a tunnel with no specific target in sight\nSlow the flow like h2o water\nVisualize the scene of a homicide a slaughter\nNo remorse for the course i take when you pull it\nThe result's a stray bullet\nNiggaz who knew hit the ground runnin and stay down\nExcept for the kids who played on the playground\nCause for some little girl she'll never see\nMore than six years of life, trif-le-ing\nWhen she fell from the seesaw\nBut umm wait, my course isn't over\nFled out of the other side of her head towards\nA red, range, rover, then i ricochet\nFast past a brother's ass, oh damn, what that nigga say\n\"Aww fuck it\", next target's margaret's face *bang*\nAnd i struck it\nNow it's a flood of blood in circumfrence to her face\nAnd an abundance of brains all over the street\nShame how we had to meet *bang*\nDashin, buckin, greet by fuckin family\nThey follow behind me in a orderly fashion\nBashin through flesh i'm wild\nCrashin through the doors of projects hallways\nTo deflect off of the tile\nI'm coming for you little girl\nOnce inside i shatter your world\nSwirl, no more dreams no hopes when i spray\nYou better pray, to the pope or the vatican\nBefore i go rat-tat-a-tat again\nI'm mad again brother somebody's mother will be sad again\nBut, whose blue skies will turn grey\n\nFrom the attack, of the mac-11, i'm a stray, bullet\n\n[Nobody seen shit, nobody heard it -- 4x]\n\nVerse two: prince poetry\n\nGun balls of fire, i'm travelling at higher speeds\nTo proceed to penetrate flesh, hitting the splint\nAfter splitting the chest of a queens fiend\nAge of pagers shredded to pieces from the glock 9\nAnd it's hollow tips, it releases the polices\nIn back of the ambulance\nBlood loss as i shift across your chest\nArrest, rupture, i mess up ya, slasher\nShall i bust ya liver, faster, blood pours *bang*\nNow it's up to the master, boom, as i crash open the doors\nThank me for spraying the operating room\nThe body still consumes me, doc had to remove me\nMmm lord, why do they use me? *bang*\nI'm takin individual for keeps hobbes\nSo peep the cops, in the ghetto bustin shots for props\nAnd when i hit, shit *bang bang bang bang*\nSoon you forgets-me-not\nCops tried to explain to his pops what i done\nI flip up the hollow tipper and i'm not the one\nAnd as a human i'm the surprising one\nPrince po i flow the ripper, either way\nYou never, ever know how i'm coming\nMetamorphasizing, rising in turbulence\nCondensed into a bullet, pull it, now i'm making moves\nWith no sympathizing, uhh, so take a hit nigga, sprint *bang*\nOnto the scenario, i'm at a party with o\nA lot of honies parlay and the dj's playin the fudge pudge flow\nFive niggaz come up in the club for a rub\n[Yo o peep it, oh shit o duck (oh shit!, oh shit!)\n*Pop pop pop pop pop* *woman screams*]\nAnother hit, another struck\nHere comes mr. stray bullet\nFive, the tip, getting my jollies from the screams of the ripped\nIn your chest, then i flip\nNip your liver, blood flowin like a river\nMoney starts to shiver then i give a delivery of burns\nBruises fake shoes is your renaissance\nNo response your moms is out cold\nFigure i'm bigger takin your heart nigga at twenty years old\nStray bullet","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Stray Bullet\n  artist: Organized Konfusion\n  album: Top 1000 Hip Hop\n  duration_ms: 222000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Verse one: pharoahe monche\n\n  Let the trigger finger put the pressure to the mechanism\n  Which gives a response for the automatic *bang*\n  Clip to release projectiles in single\n  File forcing me to ignite then travel\n  Through the barrel headed for the light\n  At the end of a tunnel with no specific target in sight\n  Slow the flow like h2o water\n  Visualize the scene of a homicide a slaughter\n  No remorse for the course i take when you pull it\n  The result's a stray bullet\n  Niggaz who knew hit the ground runnin and stay down\n  Except for the kids who played on the playground\n  Cause for some little girl she'll never see\n  More than six years of life, trif-le-ing\n  When she fell from the seesaw\n  But umm wait, my course isn't over\n  Fled out of the other side of her head towards\n  A red, range, rover, then i ricochet\n  Fast past a brother's ass, oh damn, what that nigga say\n  \"Aww fuck it\", next target's margaret's face *bang*\n  And i struck it\n  Now it's a flood of blood in circumfrence to her face\n  And an abundance of brains all over the street\n  Shame how we had to meet *bang*\n  Dashin, buckin, greet by fuckin family\n  They follow behind me in a orderly fashion\n  Bashin through flesh i'm wild\n  Crashin through the doors of projects hallways\n  To deflect off of the tile\n  I'm coming for you little girl\n  Once inside i shatter your world\n  Swirl, no more dreams no hopes when i spray\n  You better pray, to the pope or the vatican\n  Before i go rat-tat-a-tat again\n  I'm mad again brother somebody's mother will be sad again\n  But, whose blue skies will turn grey\n\n  From the attack, of the mac-11, i'm a stray, bullet\n\n  [Nobody seen shit, nobody heard it -- 4x]\n\n  Verse two: prince poetry\n\n  Gun balls of fire, i'm travelling at higher speeds\n  To proceed to penetrate flesh, hitting the splint\n  After splitting the chest of a queens fiend\n  Age of pagers shredded to pieces from the glock 9\n  And it's hollow tips, it releases the polices\n  In back of the ambulance\n  Blood loss as i shift across your chest\n  Arrest, rupture, i mess up ya, slasher\n  Shall i bust ya liver, faster, blood pours *bang*\n  Now it's up to the master, boom, as i crash open the doors\n  Thank me for spraying the operating room\n  The body still consumes me, doc had to remove me\n  Mmm lord, why do they use me? *bang*\n  I'm takin individual for keeps hobbes\n  So peep the cops, in the ghetto bustin shots for props\n  And when i hit, shit *bang bang bang bang*\n  Soon you forgets-me-not\n  Cops tried to explain to his pops what i done\n  I flip up the hollow tipper and i'm not the one\n  And as a human i'm the surprising one\n  Prince po i flow the ripper, either way\n  You never, ever know how i'm coming\n  Metamorphasizing, rising in turbulence\n  Condensed into a bullet, pull it, now i'm making moves\n  With no sympathizing, uhh, so take a hit nigga, sprint *bang*\n  Onto the scenario, i'm at a party with o\n  A lot of honies parlay and the dj's playin the fudge pudge flow\n  Five niggaz come up in the club for a rub\n  [Yo o peep it, oh shit o duck (oh shit!, oh shit!)\n  *Pop pop pop pop pop* *woman screams*]\n  Another hit, another struck\n  Here comes mr. stray bullet\n  Five, the tip, getting my jollies from the screams of the ripped\n  In your chest, then i flip\n  Nip your liver, blood flowin like a river\n  Money starts to shiver then i give a delivery of burns\n  Bruises fake shoes is your renaissance\n  No response your moms is out cold\n  Figure i'm bigger takin your heart nigga at twenty years old\n  Stray bullet\n"},{"id":24754170,"name":"Stray Bullet","trackName":"Stray Bullet","artistName":"Organized Konfusion","albumName":"Stress : The Extinction Agenda (30th Anniversary Deluxe Edition)","duration":221.826667,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Verse one: pharoahe monche\n\nLet the trigger finger put the pressure to the mechanism\nWhich gives a response for the automatic *bang*\nClip to release projectiles in single\nFile forcing me to ignite then travel\nThrough the barrel headed for the light\nAt the end of a tunnel with no specific target in sight\nSlow the flow like h2o water\nVisualize the scene of a homicide a slaughter\nNo remorse for the course i take when you pull it\nThe result's a stray bullet\nNiggaz who knew hit the ground runnin and stay down\nExcept for the kids who played on the playground\nCause for some little girl she'll never see\nMore than six years of life, trif-le-ing\nWhen she fell from the seesaw\nBut umm wait, my course isn't over\nFled out of the other side of her head towards\nA red, range, rover, then i ricochet\nFast past a brother's ass, oh damn, what that nigga say\n\"Aww fuck it\", next target's margaret's face *bang*\nAnd i struck it\nNow it's a flood of blood in circumfrence to her face\nAnd an abundance of brains all over the street\nShame how we had to meet *bang*\nDashin, buckin, greet by fuckin family\nThey follow behind me in a orderly fashion\nBashin through flesh i'm wild\nCrashin through the doors of projects hallways\nTo deflect off of the tile\nI'm coming for you little girl\nOnce inside i shatter your world\nSwirl, no more dreams no hopes when i spray\nYou better pray, to the pope or the vatican\nBefore i go rat-tat-a-tat again\nI'm mad again brother somebody's mother will be sad again\nBut, whose blue skies will turn grey\n\nFrom the attack, of the mac-11, i'm a stray, bullet\n\n[Nobody seen shit, nobody heard it -- 4x]\n\nVerse two: prince poetry\n\nGun balls of fire, i'm travelling at higher speeds\nTo proceed to penetrate flesh, hitting the splint\nAfter splitting the chest of a queens fiend\nAge of pagers shredded to pieces from the glock 9\nAnd it's hollow tips, it releases the polices\nIn back of the ambulance\nBlood loss as i shift across your chest\nArrest, rupture, i mess up ya, slasher\nShall i bust ya liver, faster, blood pours *bang*\nNow it's up to the master, boom, as i crash open the doors\nThank me for spraying the operating room\nThe body still consumes me, doc had to remove me\nMmm lord, why do they use me? *bang*\nI'm takin individual for keeps hobbes\nSo peep the cops, in the ghetto bustin shots for props\nAnd when i hit, shit *bang bang bang bang*\nSoon you forgets-me-not\nCops tried to explain to his pops what i done\nI flip up the hollow tipper and i'm not the one\nAnd as a human i'm the surprising one\nPrince po i flow the ripper, either way\nYou never, ever know how i'm coming\nMetamorphasizing, rising in turbulence\nCondensed into a bullet, pull it, now i'm making moves\nWith no sympathizing, uhh, so take a hit nigga, sprint *bang*\nOnto the scenario, i'm at a party with o\nA lot of honies parlay and the dj's playin the fudge pudge flow\nFive niggaz come up in the club for a rub\n[Yo o peep it, oh shit o duck (oh shit!, oh shit!)\n*Pop pop pop pop pop* *woman screams*]\nAnother hit, another struck\nHere comes mr. stray bullet\nFive, the tip, getting my jollies from the screams of the ripped\nIn your chest, then i flip\nNip your liver, blood flowin like a river\nMoney starts to shiver then i give a delivery of burns\nBruises fake shoes is your renaissance\nNo response your moms is out cold\nFigure i'm bigger takin your heart nigga at twenty years old\nStray bullet","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Stray Bullet\n  artist: Organized Konfusion\n  album: 'Stress : The Extinction Agenda (30th Anniversary Deluxe Edition)'\n  duration_ms: 221827\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Verse one: pharoahe monche\n\n  Let the trigger finger put the pressure to the mechanism\n  Which gives a response for the automatic *bang*\n  Clip to release projectiles in single\n  File forcing me to ignite then travel\n  Through the barrel headed for the light\n  At the end of a tunnel with no specific target in sight\n  Slow the flow like h2o water\n  Visualize the scene of a homicide a slaughter\n  No remorse for the course i take when you pull it\n  The result's a stray bullet\n  Niggaz who knew hit the ground runnin and stay down\n  Except for the kids who played on the playground\n  Cause for some little girl she'll never see\n  More than six years of life, trif-le-ing\n  When she fell from the seesaw\n  But umm wait, my course isn't over\n  Fled out of the other side of her head towards\n  A red, range, rover, then i ricochet\n  Fast past a brother's ass, oh damn, what that nigga say\n  \"Aww fuck it\", next target's margaret's face *bang*\n  And i struck it\n  Now it's a flood of blood in circumfrence to her face\n  And an abundance of brains all over the street\n  Shame how we had to meet *bang*\n  Dashin, buckin, greet by fuckin family\n  They follow behind me in a orderly fashion\n  Bashin through flesh i'm wild\n  Crashin through the doors of projects hallways\n  To deflect off of the tile\n  I'm coming for you little girl\n  Once inside i shatter your world\n  Swirl, no more dreams no hopes when i spray\n  You better pray, to the pope or the vatican\n  Before i go rat-tat-a-tat again\n  I'm mad again brother somebody's mother will be sad again\n  But, whose blue skies will turn grey\n\n  From the attack, of the mac-11, i'm a stray, bullet\n\n  [Nobody seen shit, nobody heard it -- 4x]\n\n  Verse two: prince poetry\n\n  Gun balls of fire, i'm travelling at higher speeds\n  To proceed to penetrate flesh, hitting the splint\n  After splitting the chest of a queens fiend\n  Age of pagers shredded to pieces from the glock 9\n  And it's hollow tips, it releases the polices\n  In back of the ambulance\n  Blood loss as i shift across your chest\n  Arrest, rupture, i mess up ya, slasher\n  Shall i bust ya liver, faster, blood pours *bang*\n  Now it's up to the master, boom, as i crash open the doors\n  Thank me for spraying the operating room\n  The body still consumes me, doc had to remove me\n  Mmm lord, why do they use me? *bang*\n  I'm takin individual for keeps hobbes\n  So peep the cops, in the ghetto bustin shots for props\n  And when i hit, shit *bang bang bang bang*\n  Soon you forgets-me-not\n  Cops tried to explain to his pops what i done\n  I flip up the hollow tipper and i'm not the one\n  And as a human i'm the surprising one\n  Prince po i flow the ripper, either way\n  You never, ever know how i'm coming\n  Metamorphasizing, rising in turbulence\n  Condensed into a bullet, pull it, now i'm making moves\n  With no sympathizing, uhh, so take a hit nigga, sprint *bang*\n  Onto the scenario, i'm at a party with o\n  A lot of honies parlay and the dj's playin the fudge pudge flow\n  Five niggaz come up in the club for a rub\n  [Yo o peep it, oh shit o duck (oh shit!, oh shit!)\n  *Pop pop pop pop pop* *woman screams*]\n  Another hit, another struck\n  Here comes mr. stray bullet\n  Five, the tip, getting my jollies from the screams of the ripped\n  In your chest, then i flip\n  Nip your liver, blood flowin like a river\n  Money starts to shiver then i give a delivery of burns\n  Bruises fake shoes is your renaissance\n  No response your moms is out cold\n  Figure i'm bigger takin your heart nigga at twenty years old\n  Stray bullet\n"},{"id":26229277,"name":"Stray Bullet","trackName":"Stray Bullet","artistName":"Organized Konfusion","albumName":"Stress: The Extinction Agenda (deluxe redux)","duration":221.857959,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Verse one: pharoahe monche\n\nLet the trigger finger put the pressure to the mechanism\nWhich gives a response for the automatic *bang*\nClip to release projectiles in single\nFile forcing me to ignite then travel\nThrough the barrel headed for the light\nAt the end of a tunnel with no specific target in sight\nSlow the flow like h2o water\nVisualize the scene of a homicide a slaughter\nNo remorse for the course i take when you pull it\nThe result's a stray bullet\nNiggaz who knew hit the ground runnin and stay down\nExcept for the kids who played on the playground\nCause for some little girl she'll never see\nMore than six years of life, trif-le-ing\nWhen she fell from the seesaw\nBut umm wait, my course isn't over\nFled out of the other side of her head towards\nA red, range, rover, then i ricochet\nFast past a brother's ass, oh damn, what that nigga say\n\"Aww fuck it\", next target's margaret's face *bang*\nAnd i struck it\nNow it's a flood of blood in circumfrence to her face\nAnd an abundance of brains all over the street\nShame how we had to meet *bang*\nDashin, buckin, greet by fuckin family\nThey follow behind me in a orderly fashion\nBashin through flesh i'm wild\nCrashin through the doors of projects hallways\nTo deflect off of the tile\nI'm coming for you little girl\nOnce inside i shatter your world\nSwirl, no more dreams no hopes when i spray\nYou better pray, to the pope or the vatican\nBefore i go rat-tat-a-tat again\nI'm mad again brother somebody's mother will be sad again\nBut, whose blue skies will turn grey\n\nFrom the attack, of the mac-11, i'm a stray, bullet\n\n[Nobody seen shit, nobody heard it -- 4x]\n\nVerse two: prince poetry\n\nGun balls of fire, i'm travelling at higher speeds\nTo proceed to penetrate flesh, hitting the splint\nAfter splitting the chest of a queens fiend\nAge of pagers shredded to pieces from the glock 9\nAnd it's hollow tips, it releases the polices\nIn back of the ambulance\nBlood loss as i shift across your chest\nArrest, rupture, i mess up ya, slasher\nShall i bust ya liver, faster, blood pours *bang*\nNow it's up to the master, boom, as i crash open the doors\nThank me for spraying the operating room\nThe body still consumes me, doc had to remove me\nMmm lord, why do they use me? *bang*\nI'm takin individual for keeps hobbes\nSo peep the cops, in the ghetto bustin shots for props\nAnd when i hit, shit *bang bang bang bang*\nSoon you forgets-me-not\nCops tried to explain to his pops what i done\nI flip up the hollow tipper and i'm not the one\nAnd as a human i'm the surprising one\nPrince po i flow the ripper, either way\nYou never, ever know how i'm coming\nMetamorphasizing, rising in turbulence\nCondensed into a bullet, pull it, now i'm making moves\nWith no sympathizing, uhh, so take a hit nigga, sprint *bang*\nOnto the scenario, i'm at a party with o\nA lot of honies parlay and the dj's playin the fudge pudge flow\nFive niggaz come up in the club for a rub\n[Yo o peep it, oh shit o duck (oh shit!, oh shit!)\n*Pop pop pop pop pop* *woman screams*]\nAnother hit, another struck\nHere comes mr. stray bullet\nFive, the tip, getting my jollies from the screams of the ripped\nIn your chest, then i flip\nNip your liver, blood flowin like a river\nMoney starts to shiver then i give a delivery of burns\nBruises fake shoes is your renaissance\nNo response your moms is out cold\nFigure i'm bigger takin your heart nigga at twenty years old\nStray bullet","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Stray Bullet\n  artist: Organized Konfusion\n  album: 'Stress: The Extinction Agenda (deluxe redux)'\n  duration_ms: 221858\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Verse one: pharoahe monche\n\n  Let the trigger finger put the pressure to the mechanism\n  Which gives a response for the automatic *bang*\n  Clip to release projectiles in single\n  File forcing me to ignite then travel\n  Through the barrel headed for the light\n  At the end of a tunnel with no specific target in sight\n  Slow the flow like h2o water\n  Visualize the scene of a homicide a slaughter\n  No remorse for the course i take when you pull it\n  The result's a stray bullet\n  Niggaz who knew hit the ground runnin and stay down\n  Except for the kids who played on the playground\n  Cause for some little girl she'll never see\n  More than six years of life, trif-le-ing\n  When she fell from the seesaw\n  But umm wait, my course isn't over\n  Fled out of the other side of her head towards\n  A red, range, rover, then i ricochet\n  Fast past a brother's ass, oh damn, what that nigga say\n  \"Aww fuck it\", next target's margaret's face *bang*\n  And i struck it\n  Now it's a flood of blood in circumfrence to her face\n  And an abundance of brains all over the street\n  Shame how we had to meet *bang*\n  Dashin, buckin, greet by fuckin family\n  They follow behind me in a orderly fashion\n  Bashin through flesh i'm wild\n  Crashin through the doors of projects hallways\n  To deflect off of the tile\n  I'm coming for you little girl\n  Once inside i shatter your world\n  Swirl, no more dreams no hopes when i spray\n  You better pray, to the pope or the vatican\n  Before i go rat-tat-a-tat again\n  I'm mad again brother somebody's mother will be sad again\n  But, whose blue skies will turn grey\n\n  From the attack, of the mac-11, i'm a stray, bullet\n\n  [Nobody seen shit, nobody heard it -- 4x]\n\n  Verse two: prince poetry\n\n  Gun balls of fire, i'm travelling at higher speeds\n  To proceed to penetrate flesh, hitting the splint\n  After splitting the chest of a queens fiend\n  Age of pagers shredded to pieces from the glock 9\n  And it's hollow tips, it releases the polices\n  In back of the ambulance\n  Blood loss as i shift across your chest\n  Arrest, rupture, i mess up ya, slasher\n  Shall i bust ya liver, faster, blood pours *bang*\n  Now it's up to the master, boom, as i crash open the doors\n  Thank me for spraying the operating room\n  The body still consumes me, doc had to remove me\n  Mmm lord, why do they use me? *bang*\n  I'm takin individual for keeps hobbes\n  So peep the cops, in the ghetto bustin shots for props\n  And when i hit, shit *bang bang bang bang*\n  Soon you forgets-me-not\n  Cops tried to explain to his pops what i done\n  I flip up the hollow tipper and i'm not the one\n  And as a human i'm the surprising one\n  Prince po i flow the ripper, either way\n  You never, ever know how i'm coming\n  Metamorphasizing, rising in turbulence\n  Condensed into a bullet, pull it, now i'm making moves\n  With no sympathizing, uhh, so take a hit nigga, sprint *bang*\n  Onto the scenario, i'm at a party with o\n  A lot of honies parlay and the dj's playin the fudge pudge flow\n  Five niggaz come up in the club for a rub\n  [Yo o peep it, oh shit o duck (oh shit!, oh shit!)\n  *Pop pop pop pop pop* *woman screams*]\n  Another hit, another struck\n  Here comes mr. stray bullet\n  Five, the tip, getting my jollies from the screams of the ripped\n  In your chest, then i flip\n  Nip your liver, blood flowin like a river\n  Money starts to shiver then i give a delivery of burns\n  Bruises fake shoes is your renaissance\n  No response your moms is out cold\n  Figure i'm bigger takin your heart nigga at twenty years old\n  Stray bullet\n"},{"id":39657100,"name":"Stray Bullet","trackName":"Stray Bullet","artistName":"Organized Konfusion","albumName":"Rap Top 1000","duration":222.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Verse one: pharoahe monche\n\nLet the trigger finger put the pressure to the mechanism\nWhich gives a response for the automatic *bang*\nClip to release projectiles in single\nFile forcing me to ignite then travel\nThrough the barrel headed for the light\nAt the end of a tunnel with no specific target in sight\nSlow the flow like h2o water\nVisualize the scene of a homicide a slaughter\nNo remorse for the course i take when you pull it\nThe result's a stray bullet\nNiggaz who knew hit the ground runnin and stay down\nExcept for the kids who played on the playground\nCause for some little girl she'll never see\nMore than six years of life, trif-le-ing\nWhen she fell from the seesaw\nBut umm wait, my course isn't over\nFled out of the other side of her head towards\nA red, range, rover, then i ricochet\nFast past a brother's ass, oh damn, what that nigga say\n\"Aww fuck it\", next target's margaret's face *bang*\nAnd i struck it\nNow it's a flood of blood in circumfrence to her face\nAnd an abundance of brains all over the street\nShame how we had to meet *bang*\nDashin, buckin, greet by fuckin family\nThey follow behind me in a orderly fashion\nBashin through flesh i'm wild\nCrashin through the doors of projects hallways\nTo deflect off of the tile\nI'm coming for you little girl\nOnce inside i shatter your world\nSwirl, no more dreams no hopes when i spray\nYou better pray, to the pope or the vatican\nBefore i go rat-tat-a-tat again\nI'm mad again brother somebody's mother will be sad again\nBut, whose blue skies will turn grey\n\nFrom the attack, of the mac-11, i'm a stray, bullet\n\n[Nobody seen shit, nobody heard it -- 4x]\n\nVerse two: prince poetry\n\nGun balls of fire, i'm travelling at higher speeds\nTo proceed to penetrate flesh, hitting the splint\nAfter splitting the chest of a queens fiend\nAge of pagers shredded to pieces from the glock 9\nAnd it's hollow tips, it releases the polices\nIn back of the ambulance\nBlood loss as i shift across your chest\nArrest, rupture, i mess up ya, slasher\nShall i bust ya liver, faster, blood pours *bang*\nNow it's up to the master, boom, as i crash open the doors\nThank me for spraying the operating room\nThe body still consumes me, doc had to remove me\nMmm lord, why do they use me? *bang*\nI'm takin individual for keeps hobbes\nSo peep the cops, in the ghetto bustin shots for props\nAnd when i hit, shit *bang bang bang bang*\nSoon you forgets-me-not\nCops tried to explain to his pops what i done\nI flip up the hollow tipper and i'm not the one\nAnd as a human i'm the surprising one\nPrince po i flow the ripper, either way\nYou never, ever know how i'm coming\nMetamorphasizing, rising in turbulence\nCondensed into a bullet, pull it, now i'm making moves\nWith no sympathizing, uhh, so take a hit nigga, sprint *bang*\nOnto the scenario, i'm at a party with o\nA lot of honies parlay and the dj's playin the fudge pudge flow\nFive niggaz come up in the club for a rub\n[Yo o peep it, oh shit o duck (oh shit!, oh shit!)\n*Pop pop pop pop pop* *woman screams*]\nAnother hit, another struck\nHere comes mr. stray bullet\nFive, the tip, getting my jollies from the screams of the ripped\nIn your chest, then i flip\nNip your liver, blood flowin like a river\nMoney starts to shiver then i give a delivery of burns\nBruises fake shoes is your renaissance\nNo response your moms is out cold\nFigure i'm bigger takin your heart nigga at twenty years old\nStray bullet","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Stray Bullet\n  artist: Organized Konfusion\n  album: Rap Top 1000\n  duration_ms: 221693\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Verse one: pharoahe monche\n\n  Let the trigger finger put the pressure to the mechanism\n  Which gives a response for the automatic *bang*\n  Clip to release projectiles in single\n  File forcing me to ignite then travel\n  Through the barrel headed for the light\n  At the end of a tunnel with no specific target in sight\n  Slow the flow like h2o water\n  Visualize the scene of a homicide a slaughter\n  No remorse for the course i take when you pull it\n  The result's a stray bullet\n  Niggaz who knew hit the ground runnin and stay down\n  Except for the kids who played on the playground\n  Cause for some little girl she'll never see\n  More than six years of life, trif-le-ing\n  When she fell from the seesaw\n  But umm wait, my course isn't over\n  Fled out of the other side of her head towards\n  A red, range, rover, then i ricochet\n  Fast past a brother's ass, oh damn, what that nigga say\n  \"Aww fuck it\", next target's margaret's face *bang*\n  And i struck it\n  Now it's a flood of blood in circumfrence to her face\n  And an abundance of brains all over the street\n  Shame how we had to meet *bang*\n  Dashin, buckin, greet by fuckin family\n  They follow behind me in a orderly fashion\n  Bashin through flesh i'm wild\n  Crashin through the doors of projects hallways\n  To deflect off of the tile\n  I'm coming for you little girl\n  Once inside i shatter your world\n  Swirl, no more dreams no hopes when i spray\n  You better pray, to the pope or the vatican\n  Before i go rat-tat-a-tat again\n  I'm mad again brother somebody's mother will be sad again\n  But, whose blue skies will turn grey\n\n  From the attack, of the mac-11, i'm a stray, bullet\n\n  [Nobody seen shit, nobody heard it -- 4x]\n\n  Verse two: prince poetry\n\n  Gun balls of fire, i'm travelling at higher speeds\n  To proceed to penetrate flesh, hitting the splint\n  After splitting the chest of a queens fiend\n  Age of pagers shredded to pieces from the glock 9\n  And it's hollow tips, it releases the polices\n  In back of the ambulance\n  Blood loss as i shift across your chest\n  Arrest, rupture, i mess up ya, slasher\n  Shall i bust ya liver, faster, blood pours *bang*\n  Now it's up to the master, boom, as i crash open the doors\n  Thank me for spraying the operating room\n  The body still consumes me, doc had to remove me\n  Mmm lord, why do they use me? *bang*\n  I'm takin individual for keeps hobbes\n  So peep the cops, in the ghetto bustin shots for props\n  And when i hit, shit *bang bang bang bang*\n  Soon you forgets-me-not\n  Cops tried to explain to his pops what i done\n  I flip up the hollow tipper and i'm not the one\n  And as a human i'm the surprising one\n  Prince po i flow the ripper, either way\n  You never, ever know how i'm coming\n  Metamorphasizing, rising in turbulence\n  Condensed into a bullet, pull it, now i'm making moves\n  With no sympathizing, uhh, so take a hit nigga, sprint *bang*\n  Onto the scenario, i'm at a party with o\n  A lot of honies parlay and the dj's playin the fudge pudge flow\n  Five niggaz come up in the club for a rub\n  [Yo o peep it, oh shit o duck (oh shit!, oh shit!)\n  *Pop pop pop pop pop* *woman screams*]\n  Another hit, another struck\n  Here comes mr. stray bullet\n  Five, the tip, getting my jollies from the screams of the ripped\n  In your chest, then i flip\n  Nip your liver, blood flowin like a river\n  Money starts to shiver then i give a delivery of burns\n  Bruises fake shoes is your renaissance\n  No response your moms is out cold\n  Figure i'm bigger takin your heart nigga at twenty years old\n  Stray bullet\n"}]