[{"id":16634957,"name":"10 Bricks (Clean)","trackName":"10 Bricks (Clean)","artistName":"Raekwon","albumName":"Catalina-10 Bricks CDM","duration":197.825306,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\nI need some of that, (slide through the back)\nI need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\nBack of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\nWe got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\nfault)\n\nAyo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\nBut I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\nMove up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\nSoldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\nFlamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\nSo many leeches I just left it and walked\nMy flow wicked, Miami money, moving and ridicly\nGeico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\nTake baths with white women, lingerie see-through\nTaking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\nSelling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\nSnub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\nKilled him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\nThey caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\nSlutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\nShe threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\nYup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\nI know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\nGold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, Pony\nLeather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n\nKnock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\nSwing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\nSpecialize in mic rippers, splashes\nWe the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n\nBeefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\nChase heads up and down the block and kill rats\nSkilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\nThe shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\nFour macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\nYeah, me and my nigga Arafat\nGotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\nChef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\nTelling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\nPythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\nI speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\nI beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\nMeanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\nThen the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\nSoon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n\nYo, I lit a booger up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\nBinoculars, scanners, we all listen to jake\nRan out of baggies, my mouth is dry\nGot them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\nNah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\nHolding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\nYou know how it be with the peppermint Clarks\nThrowing darts at a hoodrat\nGetting slow necked all up in The Bronx\nThat's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\nI just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\nLike, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezel\nWhen I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\nA deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\nEver since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\nThis ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\nCuz you can get scratched like AJ\nCuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\nI have a team of niggas moving my furs","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 10 Bricks (Clean)\n  artist: Raekwon\n  album: Catalina-10 Bricks CDM\n  duration_ms: 197825\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\n  I need some of that, (slide through the back)\n  I need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\n  Back of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\n  We got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\n  fault)\n\n  Ayo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\n  But I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\n  Move up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\n  Soldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\n  Flamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\n  So many leeches I just left it and walked\n  My flow wicked, Miami money, moving and ridicly\n  Geico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\n  Take baths with white women, lingerie see-through\n  Taking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\n  Selling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\n  Snub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\n  Killed him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\n  They caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\n  Slutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\n  She threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\n  Yup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\n  I know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\n  Gold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, Pony\n  Leather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n\n  Knock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\n  Swing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\n  Specialize in mic rippers, splashes\n  We the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n\n  Beefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\n  Chase heads up and down the block and kill rats\n  Skilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\n  The shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\n  Four macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\n  Yeah, me and my nigga Arafat\n  Gotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\n  Chef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\n  Telling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\n  Pythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\n  I speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\n  I beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\n  Meanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\n  Then the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\n  Soon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n\n  Yo, I lit a booger up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\n  Binoculars, scanners, we all listen to jake\n  Ran out of baggies, my mouth is dry\n  Got them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\n  Nah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\n  Holding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\n  You know how it be with the peppermint Clarks\n  Throwing darts at a hoodrat\n  Getting slow necked all up in The Bronx\n  That's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\n  I just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\n  Like, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezel\n  When I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\n  A deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\n  Ever since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\n  This ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\n  Cuz you can get scratched like AJ\n  Cuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\n  I have a team of niggas moving my furs\n"},{"id":11876340,"name":"10 Bricks (Dirty)","trackName":"10 Bricks (Dirty)","artistName":"Raekwon","albumName":"Catalina-10 Bricks CDM","duration":196.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\nI need some of that, (slide through the back)\nI need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\nBack of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\nWe got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\nFault)\n\nAiyo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\nBut I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\nMove up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\nSoldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\nFlamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\nSo many leeches I just left it and walked\nMy flow wicked, Miami money, moving and riducly\nGeico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\nTake baths with white women, lingerie see-through\nTaking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\nSelling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\nSnub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\nKilled him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\nThey caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\nSlutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\nShe threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\nYup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\nI know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\nGold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, pony\nLeather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n\nKnock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\nSwing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\nSpecialize in mic rippers, splashes\nWe the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n\nBeefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\nChase heads up and down the block and kill rats\nSkilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\nThe shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\nFour macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\nYeah, me and my nigga Arafat\nGotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\nChef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\nTelling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\nPythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\nI speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\nI beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\nMeanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\nThen the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\nSoon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n\nYeah, yo, I lit a boogah up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\nBinocolurs, scanners, we all listen to jake\nRan out of baggies, my mouth is dry\nGot them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\nNah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\nHolding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\nYou know how it be with the peppermint Clarks, throwing darts at a hoodrat\nGetting slow neck up in The Bronx\nThat's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\nI just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\nLike, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezzle\nWhen I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\nA deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\nEver since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\nThis ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\nCause you can get scratched like AJ\nCuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\nI have a team of niggas moving my furs","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.88] Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\n[00:03.73] I need some of that, (slide through the back)\n[00:05.72] I need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\n[00:07.54] Back of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\n[00:11.10] We got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\n[00:13.78] Fault)\n[00:14.67] Aiyo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\n[00:17.82] But I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\n[00:20.33] Move up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\n[00:23.52] Soldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\n[00:25.61] Flamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\n[00:28.79] So many leeches I just left it and walked\n[00:30.61] My flow wicked, Miami money, moving and riducly\n[00:33.53] Geico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\n[00:36.17] Take baths with white women, lingerie see-through\n[00:39.05] Taking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\n[00:41.62] Selling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\n[00:44.12] Snub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\n[00:46.98] Killed him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\n[00:50.19] They caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\n[00:52.20] Slutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\n[00:55.13] She threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\n[00:57.56] Yup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\n[01:00.36] I know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\n[01:02.89] Gold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, pony\n[01:05.73] Leather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n[01:08.08] Knock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\n[01:10.48] Swing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\n[01:13.06] Specialize in mic rippers, splashes\n[01:15.53] We the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n[01:18.53] Beefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\n[01:21.24] Chase heads up and down the block and kill rats\n[01:23.87] Skilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\n[01:27.55] The shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\n[01:29.99] Four macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\n[01:32.58] Yeah, me and my nigga Arafat\n[01:34.83] Gotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\n[01:37.26] Chef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\n[01:39.70] Telling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\n[01:42.67] Pythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\n[01:45.28] I speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\n[01:47.81] I beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\n[01:50.57] Meanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\n[01:53.20] Then the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\n[01:55.75] Soon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n[02:08.94] Yeah, yo, I lit a boogah up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\n[02:12.55] Binocolurs, scanners, we all listen to jake\n[02:14.68] Ran out of baggies, my mouth is dry\n[02:16.67] Got them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\n[02:19.34] Nah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\n[02:21.87] Holding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\n[02:24.57] You know how it be with the peppermint Clarks, throwing darts at a hoodrat\n[02:28.08] Getting slow neck up in The Bronx\n[02:29.93] That's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\n[02:32.63] I just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\n[02:35.18] Like, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezzle\n[02:37.76] When I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\n[02:40.32] A deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\n[02:42.77] Ever since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\n[02:45.92] This ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\n[02:49.26] Cause you can get scratched like AJ\n[02:51.30] Cuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\n[02:54.27] I have a team of niggas moving my furs\n[03:00.23] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 10 Bricks (Dirty)\n  artist: Raekwon\n  album: Catalina-10 Bricks CDM\n  duration_ms: 196000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\n  start_ms: 1880\n  end_ms: 3730\n- text: I need some of that, (slide through the back)\n  start_ms: 3730\n  end_ms: 5720\n- text: I need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\n  start_ms: 5720\n  end_ms: 7540\n- text: Back of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\n  start_ms: 7540\n  end_ms: 11100\n- text: We got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\n  start_ms: 11100\n  end_ms: 13780\n- text: Fault)\n  start_ms: 13780\n  end_ms: 14670\n- text: Aiyo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\n  start_ms: 14670\n  end_ms: 17820\n- text: But I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\n  start_ms: 17820\n  end_ms: 20330\n- text: Move up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\n  start_ms: 20330\n  end_ms: 23520\n- text: Soldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\n  start_ms: 23520\n  end_ms: 25610\n- text: Flamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\n  start_ms: 25610\n  end_ms: 28790\n- text: So many leeches I just left it and walked\n  start_ms: 28790\n  end_ms: 30610\n- text: My flow wicked, Miami money, moving and riducly\n  start_ms: 30610\n  end_ms: 33530\n- text: Geico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\n  start_ms: 33530\n  end_ms: 36170\n- text: Take baths with white women, lingerie see-through\n  start_ms: 36170\n  end_ms: 39050\n- text: Taking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\n  start_ms: 39050\n  end_ms: 41620\n- text: Selling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\n  start_ms: 41620\n  end_ms: 44120\n- text: Snub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\n  start_ms: 44120\n  end_ms: 46980\n- text: Killed him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\n  start_ms: 46980\n  end_ms: 50190\n- text: They caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\n  start_ms: 50190\n  end_ms: 52200\n- text: Slutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\n  start_ms: 52200\n  end_ms: 55130\n- text: She threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\n  start_ms: 55130\n  end_ms: 57560\n- text: Yup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\n  start_ms: 57560\n  end_ms: 60360\n- text: I know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\n  start_ms: 60360\n  end_ms: 62890\n- text: Gold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, pony\n  start_ms: 62890\n  end_ms: 65730\n- text: Leather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n  start_ms: 65730\n  end_ms: 68080\n- text: Knock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\n  start_ms: 68080\n  end_ms: 70480\n- text: Swing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\n  start_ms: 70480\n  end_ms: 73060\n- text: Specialize in mic rippers, splashes\n  start_ms: 73060\n  end_ms: 75530\n- text: We the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n  start_ms: 75530\n  end_ms: 78530\n- text: Beefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\n  start_ms: 78530\n  end_ms: 81240\n- text: Chase heads up and down the block and kill rats\n  start_ms: 81240\n  end_ms: 83870\n- text: Skilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\n  start_ms: 83870\n  end_ms: 87550\n- text: The shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\n  start_ms: 87550\n  end_ms: 89990\n- text: Four macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\n  start_ms: 89990\n  end_ms: 92580\n- text: Yeah, me and my nigga Arafat\n  start_ms: 92580\n  end_ms: 94830\n- text: Gotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\n  start_ms: 94830\n  end_ms: 97260\n- text: Chef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\n  start_ms: 97260\n  end_ms: 99700\n- text: Telling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\n  start_ms: 99700\n  end_ms: 102670\n- text: Pythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\n  start_ms: 102670\n  end_ms: 105280\n- text: I speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\n  start_ms: 105280\n  end_ms: 107810\n- text: I beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\n  start_ms: 107810\n  end_ms: 110570\n- text: Meanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\n  start_ms: 110570\n  end_ms: 113200\n- text: Then the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\n  start_ms: 113200\n  end_ms: 115750\n- text: Soon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n  start_ms: 115750\n  end_ms: 128940\n- text: Yeah, yo, I lit a boogah up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\n  start_ms: 128940\n  end_ms: 132550\n- text: Binocolurs, scanners, we all listen to jake\n  start_ms: 132550\n  end_ms: 134680\n- text: Ran out of baggies, my mouth is dry\n  start_ms: 134680\n  end_ms: 136670\n- text: Got them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\n  start_ms: 136670\n  end_ms: 139340\n- text: Nah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\n  start_ms: 139340\n  end_ms: 141870\n- text: Holding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\n  start_ms: 141870\n  end_ms: 144570\n- text: You know how it be with the peppermint Clarks, throwing darts at a hoodrat\n  start_ms: 144570\n  end_ms: 148080\n- text: Getting slow neck up in The Bronx\n  start_ms: 148080\n  end_ms: 149930\n- text: That's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\n  start_ms: 149930\n  end_ms: 152630\n- text: I just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\n  start_ms: 152630\n  end_ms: 155180\n- text: Like, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezzle\n  start_ms: 155180\n  end_ms: 157760\n- text: When I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\n  start_ms: 157760\n  end_ms: 160320\n- text: A deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\n  start_ms: 160320\n  end_ms: 162770\n- text: Ever since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\n  start_ms: 162770\n  end_ms: 165920\n- text: This ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\n  start_ms: 165920\n  end_ms: 169260\n- text: Cause you can get scratched like AJ\n  start_ms: 169260\n  end_ms: 171300\n- text: Cuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\n  start_ms: 171300\n  end_ms: 174270\n- text: I have a team of niggas moving my furs\n  start_ms: 174270\n  end_ms: 180230\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 180230\nplain: |-\n  Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\n  I need some of that, (slide through the back)\n  I need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\n  Back of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\n  We got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\n  Fault)\n\n  Aiyo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\n  But I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\n  Move up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\n  Soldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\n  Flamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\n  So many leeches I just left it and walked\n  My flow wicked, Miami money, moving and riducly\n  Geico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\n  Take baths with white women, lingerie see-through\n  Taking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\n  Selling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\n  Snub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\n  Killed him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\n  They caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\n  Slutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\n  She threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\n  Yup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\n  I know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\n  Gold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, pony\n  Leather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n\n  Knock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\n  Swing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\n  Specialize in mic rippers, splashes\n  We the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n\n  Beefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\n  Chase heads up and down the block and kill rats\n  Skilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\n  The shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\n  Four macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\n  Yeah, me and my nigga Arafat\n  Gotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\n  Chef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\n  Telling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\n  Pythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\n  I speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\n  I beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\n  Meanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\n  Then the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\n  Soon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n\n  Yeah, yo, I lit a boogah up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\n  Binocolurs, scanners, we all listen to jake\n  Ran out of baggies, my mouth is dry\n  Got them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\n  Nah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\n  Holding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\n  You know how it be with the peppermint Clarks, throwing darts at a hoodrat\n  Getting slow neck up in The Bronx\n  That's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\n  I just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\n  Like, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezzle\n  When I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\n  A deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\n  Ever since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\n  This ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\n  Cause you can get scratched like AJ\n  Cuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\n  I have a team of niggas moving my furs\n"},{"id":20028273,"name":"10 Bricks Ft Cappadonna Ghostface","trackName":"10 Bricks Ft Cappadonna Ghostface","artistName":"Raekwon","albumName":"Raekwon_Only Built 4 Cuban Linx PT II","duration":196.91102,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\nI need some of that, (slide through the back)\nI need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\nBack of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\nWe got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\nFault)\n\nAyo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\nBut I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\nMove up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\nSoldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\nFlamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\nSo many leeches I just left it and walked\nMy flow wicked, Miami money, moving and ridicly\nGeico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\nTake baths with white women, lingerie see-through\nTaking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\nSelling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\nSnub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\nKilled him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\nThey caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\nSlutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\nShe threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\nYup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\nI know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\nGold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, Pony\nLeather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n\nKnock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\nSwing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\nSpecialize in mic rippers, splashes\nWe the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n\nBeefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\nChase heads up and down the block and kill rats\nSkilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\nThe shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\nFour macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\nYeah, me and my nigga Arafat\nGotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\nChef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\nTelling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\nPythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\nI speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\nI beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\nMeanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\nThen the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\nSoon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n\nYo, I lit a booger up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\nBinoculars, scanners, we all listen to jake\nRan out of baggies, my mouth is dry\nGot them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\nNah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\nHolding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\nYou know how it be with the peppermint Clarks\nThrowing darts at a hoodrat\nGetting slow necked all up in The Bronx\nThat's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\nI just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\nLike, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezel\nWhen I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\nA deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\nEver since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\nThis ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\nCuz you can get scratched like AJ\nCuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\nI have a team of niggas moving my furs","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 10 Bricks Ft Cappadonna Ghostface\n  artist: Raekwon\n  album: Raekwon_Only Built 4 Cuban Linx PT II\n  duration_ms: 196911\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\n  I need some of that, (slide through the back)\n  I need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\n  Back of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\n  We got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\n  Fault)\n\n  Ayo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\n  But I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\n  Move up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\n  Soldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\n  Flamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\n  So many leeches I just left it and walked\n  My flow wicked, Miami money, moving and ridicly\n  Geico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\n  Take baths with white women, lingerie see-through\n  Taking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\n  Selling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\n  Snub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\n  Killed him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\n  They caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\n  Slutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\n  She threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\n  Yup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\n  I know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\n  Gold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, Pony\n  Leather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n\n  Knock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\n  Swing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\n  Specialize in mic rippers, splashes\n  We the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n\n  Beefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\n  Chase heads up and down the block and kill rats\n  Skilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\n  The shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\n  Four macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\n  Yeah, me and my nigga Arafat\n  Gotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\n  Chef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\n  Telling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\n  Pythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\n  I speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\n  I beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\n  Meanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\n  Then the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\n  Soon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n\n  Yo, I lit a booger up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\n  Binoculars, scanners, we all listen to jake\n  Ran out of baggies, my mouth is dry\n  Got them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\n  Nah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\n  Holding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\n  You know how it be with the peppermint Clarks\n  Throwing darts at a hoodrat\n  Getting slow necked all up in The Bronx\n  That's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\n  I just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\n  Like, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezel\n  When I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\n  A deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\n  Ever since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\n  This ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\n  Cuz you can get scratched like AJ\n  Cuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\n  I have a team of niggas moving my furs\n"},{"id":3677543,"name":"10 Bricks","trackName":"10 Bricks","artistName":"Raekwon","albumName":"Only Built 4 Cuban Linx, Pt. 2","duration":197.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\nI need some of that, (slide through the back)\nI need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\nBack of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\nWe got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\nFault)\n\nAiyo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\nBut I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\nMove up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\nSoldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\nFlamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\nSo many leeches I just left it and walked\nMy flow wicked, Miami money, moving and riducly\nGeico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\nTake baths with white women, lingerie see-through\nTaking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\nSelling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\nSnub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\nKilled him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\nThey caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\nSlutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\nShe threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\nYup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\nI know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\nGold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, pony\nLeather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n\nKnock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\nSwing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\nSpecialize in mic rippers, splashes\nWe the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n\nBeefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\nChase heads up and down the block and kill rats\nSkilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\nThe shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\nFour macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\nYeah, me and my nigga Arafat\nGotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\nChef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\nTelling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\nPythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\nI speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\nI beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\nMeanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\nThen the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\nSoon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n\nYeah, yo, I lit a boogah up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\nBinocolurs, scanners, we all listen to jake\nRan out of baggies, my mouth is dry\nGot them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\nNah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\nHolding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\nYou know how it be with the peppermint Clarks, throwing darts at a hoodrat\nGetting slow neck up in The Bronx\nThat's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\nI just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\nLike, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezzle\nWhen I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\nA deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\nEver since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\nThis ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\nCause you can get scratched like AJ\nCuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\nI have a team of niggas moving my furs","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.88] Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\n[00:03.73] I need some of that, (slide through the back)\n[00:05.72] I need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\n[00:07.54] Back of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\n[00:11.10] We got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\n[00:13.78] Fault)\n[00:14.67] Aiyo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\n[00:17.82] But I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\n[00:20.33] Move up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\n[00:23.52] Soldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\n[00:25.61] Flamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\n[00:28.79] So many leeches I just left it and walked\n[00:30.61] My flow wicked, Miami money, moving and riducly\n[00:33.53] Geico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\n[00:36.17] Take baths with white women, lingerie see-through\n[00:39.05] Taking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\n[00:41.62] Selling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\n[00:44.12] Snub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\n[00:46.98] Killed him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\n[00:50.19] They caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\n[00:52.20] Slutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\n[00:55.13] She threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\n[00:57.56] Yup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\n[01:00.36] I know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\n[01:02.89] Gold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, pony\n[01:05.73] Leather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n[01:08.08] Knock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\n[01:10.48] Swing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\n[01:13.06] Specialize in mic rippers, splashes\n[01:15.53] We the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n[01:18.53] Beefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\n[01:21.24] Chase heads up and down the block and kill rats\n[01:23.87] Skilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\n[01:27.55] The shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\n[01:29.99] Four macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\n[01:32.58] Yeah, me and my nigga Arafat\n[01:34.83] Gotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\n[01:37.26] Chef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\n[01:39.70] Telling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\n[01:42.67] Pythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\n[01:45.28] I speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\n[01:47.81] I beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\n[01:50.57] Meanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\n[01:53.20] Then the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\n[01:55.75] Soon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n[02:08.94] Yeah, yo, I lit a boogah up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\n[02:12.55] Binocolurs, scanners, we all listen to jake\n[02:14.68] Ran out of baggies, my mouth is dry\n[02:16.67] Got them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\n[02:19.34] Nah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\n[02:21.87] Holding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\n[02:24.57] You know how it be with the peppermint Clarks, throwing darts at a hoodrat\n[02:28.08] Getting slow neck up in The Bronx\n[02:29.93] That's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\n[02:32.63] I just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\n[02:35.18] Like, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezzle\n[02:37.76] When I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\n[02:40.32] A deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\n[02:42.77] Ever since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\n[02:45.92] This ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\n[02:49.26] Cause you can get scratched like AJ\n[02:51.30] Cuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\n[02:54.27] I have a team of niggas moving my furs\n[03:00.23] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 10 Bricks\n  artist: Raekwon\n  album: Only Built 4 Cuban Linx, Pt. 2\n  duration_ms: 197000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\n  start_ms: 1880\n  end_ms: 3730\n- text: I need some of that, (slide through the back)\n  start_ms: 3730\n  end_ms: 5720\n- text: I need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\n  start_ms: 5720\n  end_ms: 7540\n- text: Back of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\n  start_ms: 7540\n  end_ms: 11100\n- text: We got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\n  start_ms: 11100\n  end_ms: 13780\n- text: Fault)\n  start_ms: 13780\n  end_ms: 14670\n- text: Aiyo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\n  start_ms: 14670\n  end_ms: 17820\n- text: But I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\n  start_ms: 17820\n  end_ms: 20330\n- text: Move up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\n  start_ms: 20330\n  end_ms: 23520\n- text: Soldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\n  start_ms: 23520\n  end_ms: 25610\n- text: Flamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\n  start_ms: 25610\n  end_ms: 28790\n- text: So many leeches I just left it and walked\n  start_ms: 28790\n  end_ms: 30610\n- text: My flow wicked, Miami money, moving and riducly\n  start_ms: 30610\n  end_ms: 33530\n- text: Geico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\n  start_ms: 33530\n  end_ms: 36170\n- text: Take baths with white women, lingerie see-through\n  start_ms: 36170\n  end_ms: 39050\n- text: Taking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\n  start_ms: 39050\n  end_ms: 41620\n- text: Selling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\n  start_ms: 41620\n  end_ms: 44120\n- text: Snub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\n  start_ms: 44120\n  end_ms: 46980\n- text: Killed him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\n  start_ms: 46980\n  end_ms: 50190\n- text: They caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\n  start_ms: 50190\n  end_ms: 52200\n- text: Slutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\n  start_ms: 52200\n  end_ms: 55130\n- text: She threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\n  start_ms: 55130\n  end_ms: 57560\n- text: Yup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\n  start_ms: 57560\n  end_ms: 60360\n- text: I know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\n  start_ms: 60360\n  end_ms: 62890\n- text: Gold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, pony\n  start_ms: 62890\n  end_ms: 65730\n- text: Leather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n  start_ms: 65730\n  end_ms: 68080\n- text: Knock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\n  start_ms: 68080\n  end_ms: 70480\n- text: Swing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\n  start_ms: 70480\n  end_ms: 73060\n- text: Specialize in mic rippers, splashes\n  start_ms: 73060\n  end_ms: 75530\n- text: We the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n  start_ms: 75530\n  end_ms: 78530\n- text: Beefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\n  start_ms: 78530\n  end_ms: 81240\n- text: Chase heads up and down the block and kill rats\n  start_ms: 81240\n  end_ms: 83870\n- text: Skilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\n  start_ms: 83870\n  end_ms: 87550\n- text: The shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\n  start_ms: 87550\n  end_ms: 89990\n- text: Four macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\n  start_ms: 89990\n  end_ms: 92580\n- text: Yeah, me and my nigga Arafat\n  start_ms: 92580\n  end_ms: 94830\n- text: Gotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\n  start_ms: 94830\n  end_ms: 97260\n- text: Chef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\n  start_ms: 97260\n  end_ms: 99700\n- text: Telling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\n  start_ms: 99700\n  end_ms: 102670\n- text: Pythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\n  start_ms: 102670\n  end_ms: 105280\n- text: I speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\n  start_ms: 105280\n  end_ms: 107810\n- text: I beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\n  start_ms: 107810\n  end_ms: 110570\n- text: Meanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\n  start_ms: 110570\n  end_ms: 113200\n- text: Then the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\n  start_ms: 113200\n  end_ms: 115750\n- text: Soon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n  start_ms: 115750\n  end_ms: 128940\n- text: Yeah, yo, I lit a boogah up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\n  start_ms: 128940\n  end_ms: 132550\n- text: Binocolurs, scanners, we all listen to jake\n  start_ms: 132550\n  end_ms: 134680\n- text: Ran out of baggies, my mouth is dry\n  start_ms: 134680\n  end_ms: 136670\n- text: Got them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\n  start_ms: 136670\n  end_ms: 139340\n- text: Nah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\n  start_ms: 139340\n  end_ms: 141870\n- text: Holding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\n  start_ms: 141870\n  end_ms: 144570\n- text: You know how it be with the peppermint Clarks, throwing darts at a hoodrat\n  start_ms: 144570\n  end_ms: 148080\n- text: Getting slow neck up in The Bronx\n  start_ms: 148080\n  end_ms: 149930\n- text: That's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\n  start_ms: 149930\n  end_ms: 152630\n- text: I just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\n  start_ms: 152630\n  end_ms: 155180\n- text: Like, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezzle\n  start_ms: 155180\n  end_ms: 157760\n- text: When I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\n  start_ms: 157760\n  end_ms: 160320\n- text: A deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\n  start_ms: 160320\n  end_ms: 162770\n- text: Ever since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\n  start_ms: 162770\n  end_ms: 165920\n- text: This ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\n  start_ms: 165920\n  end_ms: 169260\n- text: Cause you can get scratched like AJ\n  start_ms: 169260\n  end_ms: 171300\n- text: Cuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\n  start_ms: 171300\n  end_ms: 174270\n- text: I have a team of niggas moving my furs\n  start_ms: 174270\n  end_ms: 180230\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 180230\nplain: |-\n  Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\n  I need some of that, (slide through the back)\n  I need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\n  Back of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\n  We got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\n  Fault)\n\n  Aiyo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\n  But I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\n  Move up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\n  Soldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\n  Flamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\n  So many leeches I just left it and walked\n  My flow wicked, Miami money, moving and riducly\n  Geico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\n  Take baths with white women, lingerie see-through\n  Taking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\n  Selling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\n  Snub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\n  Killed him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\n  They caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\n  Slutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\n  She threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\n  Yup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\n  I know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\n  Gold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, pony\n  Leather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n\n  Knock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\n  Swing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\n  Specialize in mic rippers, splashes\n  We the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n\n  Beefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\n  Chase heads up and down the block and kill rats\n  Skilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\n  The shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\n  Four macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\n  Yeah, me and my nigga Arafat\n  Gotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\n  Chef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\n  Telling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\n  Pythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\n  I speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\n  I beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\n  Meanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\n  Then the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\n  Soon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n\n  Yeah, yo, I lit a boogah up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\n  Binocolurs, scanners, we all listen to jake\n  Ran out of baggies, my mouth is dry\n  Got them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\n  Nah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\n  Holding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\n  You know how it be with the peppermint Clarks, throwing darts at a hoodrat\n  Getting slow neck up in The Bronx\n  That's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\n  I just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\n  Like, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezzle\n  When I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\n  A deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\n  Ever since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\n  This ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\n  Cause you can get scratched like AJ\n  Cuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\n  I have a team of niggas moving my furs\n"},{"id":3677542,"name":"10 Bricks","trackName":"10 Bricks","artistName":"Raekwon","albumName":"Only Built For Cuban Linx, Part II","duration":197.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\nI need some of that, (slide through the back)\nI need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\nBack of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\nWe got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\nFault)\n\nAiyo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\nBut I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\nMove up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\nSoldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\nFlamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\nSo many leeches I just left it and walked\nMy flow wicked, Miami money, moving and riducly\nGeico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\nTake baths with white women, lingerie see-through\nTaking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\nSelling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\nSnub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\nKilled him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\nThey caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\nSlutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\nShe threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\nYup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\nI know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\nGold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, pony\nLeather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n\nKnock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\nSwing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\nSpecialize in mic rippers, splashes\nWe the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n\nBeefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\nChase heads up and down the block and kill rats\nSkilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\nThe shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\nFour macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\nYeah, me and my nigga Arafat\nGotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\nChef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\nTelling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\nPythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\nI speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\nI beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\nMeanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\nThen the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\nSoon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n\nYeah, yo, I lit a boogah up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\nBinocolurs, scanners, we all listen to jake\nRan out of baggies, my mouth is dry\nGot them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\nNah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\nHolding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\nYou know how it be with the peppermint Clarks, throwing darts at a hoodrat\nGetting slow neck up in The Bronx\nThat's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\nI just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\nLike, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezzle\nWhen I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\nA deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\nEver since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\nThis ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\nCause you can get scratched like AJ\nCuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\nI have a team of niggas moving my furs","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.88] Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\n[00:03.73] I need some of that, (slide through the back)\n[00:05.72] I need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\n[00:07.54] Back of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\n[00:11.10] We got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\n[00:13.78] Fault)\n[00:14.67] Aiyo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\n[00:17.82] But I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\n[00:20.33] Move up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\n[00:23.52] Soldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\n[00:25.61] Flamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\n[00:28.79] So many leeches I just left it and walked\n[00:30.61] My flow wicked, Miami money, moving and riducly\n[00:33.53] Geico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\n[00:36.17] Take baths with white women, lingerie see-through\n[00:39.05] Taking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\n[00:41.62] Selling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\n[00:44.12] Snub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\n[00:46.98] Killed him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\n[00:50.19] They caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\n[00:52.20] Slutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\n[00:55.13] She threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\n[00:57.56] Yup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\n[01:00.36] I know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\n[01:02.89] Gold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, pony\n[01:05.73] Leather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n[01:08.08] Knock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\n[01:10.48] Swing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\n[01:13.06] Specialize in mic rippers, splashes\n[01:15.53] We the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n[01:18.53] Beefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\n[01:21.24] Chase heads up and down the block and kill rats\n[01:23.87] Skilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\n[01:27.55] The shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\n[01:29.99] Four macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\n[01:32.58] Yeah, me and my nigga Arafat\n[01:34.83] Gotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\n[01:37.26] Chef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\n[01:39.70] Telling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\n[01:42.67] Pythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\n[01:45.28] I speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\n[01:47.81] I beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\n[01:50.57] Meanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\n[01:53.20] Then the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\n[01:55.75] Soon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n[02:08.94] Yeah, yo, I lit a boogah up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\n[02:12.55] Binocolurs, scanners, we all listen to jake\n[02:14.68] Ran out of baggies, my mouth is dry\n[02:16.67] Got them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\n[02:19.34] Nah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\n[02:21.87] Holding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\n[02:24.57] You know how it be with the peppermint Clarks, throwing darts at a hoodrat\n[02:28.08] Getting slow neck up in The Bronx\n[02:29.93] That's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\n[02:32.63] I just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\n[02:35.18] Like, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezzle\n[02:37.76] When I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\n[02:40.32] A deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\n[02:42.77] Ever since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\n[02:45.92] This ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\n[02:49.26] Cause you can get scratched like AJ\n[02:51.30] Cuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\n[02:54.27] I have a team of niggas moving my furs\n[03:00.23] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 10 Bricks\n  artist: Raekwon\n  album: Only Built For Cuban Linx, Part II\n  duration_ms: 197000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\n  start_ms: 1880\n  end_ms: 3730\n- text: I need some of that, (slide through the back)\n  start_ms: 3730\n  end_ms: 5720\n- text: I need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\n  start_ms: 5720\n  end_ms: 7540\n- text: Back of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\n  start_ms: 7540\n  end_ms: 11100\n- text: We got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\n  start_ms: 11100\n  end_ms: 13780\n- text: Fault)\n  start_ms: 13780\n  end_ms: 14670\n- text: Aiyo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\n  start_ms: 14670\n  end_ms: 17820\n- text: But I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\n  start_ms: 17820\n  end_ms: 20330\n- text: Move up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\n  start_ms: 20330\n  end_ms: 23520\n- text: Soldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\n  start_ms: 23520\n  end_ms: 25610\n- text: Flamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\n  start_ms: 25610\n  end_ms: 28790\n- text: So many leeches I just left it and walked\n  start_ms: 28790\n  end_ms: 30610\n- text: My flow wicked, Miami money, moving and riducly\n  start_ms: 30610\n  end_ms: 33530\n- text: Geico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\n  start_ms: 33530\n  end_ms: 36170\n- text: Take baths with white women, lingerie see-through\n  start_ms: 36170\n  end_ms: 39050\n- text: Taking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\n  start_ms: 39050\n  end_ms: 41620\n- text: Selling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\n  start_ms: 41620\n  end_ms: 44120\n- text: Snub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\n  start_ms: 44120\n  end_ms: 46980\n- text: Killed him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\n  start_ms: 46980\n  end_ms: 50190\n- text: They caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\n  start_ms: 50190\n  end_ms: 52200\n- text: Slutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\n  start_ms: 52200\n  end_ms: 55130\n- text: She threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\n  start_ms: 55130\n  end_ms: 57560\n- text: Yup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\n  start_ms: 57560\n  end_ms: 60360\n- text: I know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\n  start_ms: 60360\n  end_ms: 62890\n- text: Gold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, pony\n  start_ms: 62890\n  end_ms: 65730\n- text: Leather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n  start_ms: 65730\n  end_ms: 68080\n- text: Knock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\n  start_ms: 68080\n  end_ms: 70480\n- text: Swing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\n  start_ms: 70480\n  end_ms: 73060\n- text: Specialize in mic rippers, splashes\n  start_ms: 73060\n  end_ms: 75530\n- text: We the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n  start_ms: 75530\n  end_ms: 78530\n- text: Beefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\n  start_ms: 78530\n  end_ms: 81240\n- text: Chase heads up and down the block and kill rats\n  start_ms: 81240\n  end_ms: 83870\n- text: Skilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\n  start_ms: 83870\n  end_ms: 87550\n- text: The shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\n  start_ms: 87550\n  end_ms: 89990\n- text: Four macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\n  start_ms: 89990\n  end_ms: 92580\n- text: Yeah, me and my nigga Arafat\n  start_ms: 92580\n  end_ms: 94830\n- text: Gotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\n  start_ms: 94830\n  end_ms: 97260\n- text: Chef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\n  start_ms: 97260\n  end_ms: 99700\n- text: Telling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\n  start_ms: 99700\n  end_ms: 102670\n- text: Pythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\n  start_ms: 102670\n  end_ms: 105280\n- text: I speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\n  start_ms: 105280\n  end_ms: 107810\n- text: I beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\n  start_ms: 107810\n  end_ms: 110570\n- text: Meanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\n  start_ms: 110570\n  end_ms: 113200\n- text: Then the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\n  start_ms: 113200\n  end_ms: 115750\n- text: Soon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n  start_ms: 115750\n  end_ms: 128940\n- text: Yeah, yo, I lit a boogah up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\n  start_ms: 128940\n  end_ms: 132550\n- text: Binocolurs, scanners, we all listen to jake\n  start_ms: 132550\n  end_ms: 134680\n- text: Ran out of baggies, my mouth is dry\n  start_ms: 134680\n  end_ms: 136670\n- text: Got them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\n  start_ms: 136670\n  end_ms: 139340\n- text: Nah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\n  start_ms: 139340\n  end_ms: 141870\n- text: Holding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\n  start_ms: 141870\n  end_ms: 144570\n- text: You know how it be with the peppermint Clarks, throwing darts at a hoodrat\n  start_ms: 144570\n  end_ms: 148080\n- text: Getting slow neck up in The Bronx\n  start_ms: 148080\n  end_ms: 149930\n- text: That's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\n  start_ms: 149930\n  end_ms: 152630\n- text: I just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\n  start_ms: 152630\n  end_ms: 155180\n- text: Like, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezzle\n  start_ms: 155180\n  end_ms: 157760\n- text: When I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\n  start_ms: 157760\n  end_ms: 160320\n- text: A deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\n  start_ms: 160320\n  end_ms: 162770\n- text: Ever since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\n  start_ms: 162770\n  end_ms: 165920\n- text: This ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\n  start_ms: 165920\n  end_ms: 169260\n- text: Cause you can get scratched like AJ\n  start_ms: 169260\n  end_ms: 171300\n- text: Cuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\n  start_ms: 171300\n  end_ms: 174270\n- text: I have a team of niggas moving my furs\n  start_ms: 174270\n  end_ms: 180230\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 180230\nplain: |-\n  Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\n  I need some of that, (slide through the back)\n  I need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\n  Back of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\n  We got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\n  Fault)\n\n  Aiyo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\n  But I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\n  Move up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\n  Soldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\n  Flamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\n  So many leeches I just left it and walked\n  My flow wicked, Miami money, moving and riducly\n  Geico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\n  Take baths with white women, lingerie see-through\n  Taking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\n  Selling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\n  Snub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\n  Killed him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\n  They caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\n  Slutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\n  She threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\n  Yup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\n  I know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\n  Gold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, pony\n  Leather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n\n  Knock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\n  Swing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\n  Specialize in mic rippers, splashes\n  We the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n\n  Beefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\n  Chase heads up and down the block and kill rats\n  Skilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\n  The shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\n  Four macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\n  Yeah, me and my nigga Arafat\n  Gotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\n  Chef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\n  Telling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\n  Pythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\n  I speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\n  I beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\n  Meanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\n  Then the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\n  Soon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n\n  Yeah, yo, I lit a boogah up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\n  Binocolurs, scanners, we all listen to jake\n  Ran out of baggies, my mouth is dry\n  Got them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\n  Nah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\n  Holding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\n  You know how it be with the peppermint Clarks, throwing darts at a hoodrat\n  Getting slow neck up in The Bronx\n  That's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\n  I just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\n  Like, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezzle\n  When I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\n  A deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\n  Ever since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\n  This ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\n  Cause you can get scratched like AJ\n  Cuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\n  I have a team of niggas moving my furs\n"},{"id":21087872,"name":"10 Bricks","trackName":"10 Bricks","artistName":"Raekwon","albumName":"Only Built For Cuban Linx Pt.2","duration":196.91102,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\nI need some of that, (slide through the back)\nI need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\nBack of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\nWe got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\nFault)\n\nAiyo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\nBut I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\nMove up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\nSoldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\nFlamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\nSo many leeches I just left it and walked\nMy flow wicked, Miami money, moving and riducly\nGeico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\nTake baths with white women, lingerie see-through\nTaking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\nSelling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\nSnub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\nKilled him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\nThey caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\nSlutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\nShe threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\nYup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\nI know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\nGold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, pony\nLeather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n\nKnock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\nSwing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\nSpecialize in mic rippers, splashes\nWe the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n\nBeefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\nChase heads up and down the block and kill rats\nSkilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\nThe shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\nFour macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\nYeah, me and my nigga Arafat\nGotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\nChef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\nTelling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\nPythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\nI speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\nI beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\nMeanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\nThen the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\nSoon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n\nYeah, yo, I lit a boogah up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\nBinocolurs, scanners, we all listen to jake\nRan out of baggies, my mouth is dry\nGot them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\nNah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\nHolding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\nYou know how it be with the peppermint Clarks, throwing darts at a hoodrat\nGetting slow neck up in The Bronx\nThat's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\nI just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\nLike, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezzle\nWhen I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\nA deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\nEver since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\nThis ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\nCause you can get scratched like AJ\nCuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\nI have a team of niggas moving my furs","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.88] Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\n[00:03.73] I need some of that, (slide through the back)\n[00:05.72] I need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\n[00:07.54] Back of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\n[00:11.10] We got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\n[00:13.78] Fault)\n[00:14.67] Aiyo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\n[00:17.82] But I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\n[00:20.33] Move up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\n[00:23.52] Soldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\n[00:25.61] Flamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\n[00:28.79] So many leeches I just left it and walked\n[00:30.61] My flow wicked, Miami money, moving and riducly\n[00:33.53] Geico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\n[00:36.17] Take baths with white women, lingerie see-through\n[00:39.05] Taking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\n[00:41.62] Selling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\n[00:44.12] Snub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\n[00:46.98] Killed him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\n[00:50.19] They caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\n[00:52.20] Slutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\n[00:55.13] She threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\n[00:57.56] Yup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\n[01:00.36] I know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\n[01:02.89] Gold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, pony\n[01:05.73] Leather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n[01:08.08] Knock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\n[01:10.48] Swing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\n[01:13.06] Specialize in mic rippers, splashes\n[01:15.53] We the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n[01:18.53] Beefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\n[01:21.24] Chase heads up and down the block and kill rats\n[01:23.87] Skilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\n[01:27.55] The shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\n[01:29.99] Four macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\n[01:32.58] Yeah, me and my nigga Arafat\n[01:34.83] Gotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\n[01:37.26] Chef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\n[01:39.70] Telling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\n[01:42.67] Pythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\n[01:45.28] I speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\n[01:47.81] I beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\n[01:50.57] Meanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\n[01:53.20] Then the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\n[01:55.75] Soon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n[02:08.94] Yeah, yo, I lit a boogah up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\n[02:12.55] Binocolurs, scanners, we all listen to jake\n[02:14.68] Ran out of baggies, my mouth is dry\n[02:16.67] Got them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\n[02:19.34] Nah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\n[02:21.87] Holding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\n[02:24.57] You know how it be with the peppermint Clarks, throwing darts at a hoodrat\n[02:28.08] Getting slow neck up in The Bronx\n[02:29.93] That's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\n[02:32.63] I just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\n[02:35.18] Like, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezzle\n[02:37.76] When I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\n[02:40.32] A deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\n[02:42.77] Ever since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\n[02:45.92] This ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\n[02:49.26] Cause you can get scratched like AJ\n[02:51.30] Cuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\n[02:54.27] I have a team of niggas moving my furs\n[03:00.23] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 10 Bricks\n  artist: Raekwon\n  album: Only Built For Cuban Linx Pt.2\n  duration_ms: 196911\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\n  start_ms: 1880\n  end_ms: 3730\n- text: I need some of that, (slide through the back)\n  start_ms: 3730\n  end_ms: 5720\n- text: I need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\n  start_ms: 5720\n  end_ms: 7540\n- text: Back of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\n  start_ms: 7540\n  end_ms: 11100\n- text: We got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\n  start_ms: 11100\n  end_ms: 13780\n- text: Fault)\n  start_ms: 13780\n  end_ms: 14670\n- text: Aiyo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\n  start_ms: 14670\n  end_ms: 17820\n- text: But I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\n  start_ms: 17820\n  end_ms: 20330\n- text: Move up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\n  start_ms: 20330\n  end_ms: 23520\n- text: Soldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\n  start_ms: 23520\n  end_ms: 25610\n- text: Flamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\n  start_ms: 25610\n  end_ms: 28790\n- text: So many leeches I just left it and walked\n  start_ms: 28790\n  end_ms: 30610\n- text: My flow wicked, Miami money, moving and riducly\n  start_ms: 30610\n  end_ms: 33530\n- text: Geico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\n  start_ms: 33530\n  end_ms: 36170\n- text: Take baths with white women, lingerie see-through\n  start_ms: 36170\n  end_ms: 39050\n- text: Taking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\n  start_ms: 39050\n  end_ms: 41620\n- text: Selling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\n  start_ms: 41620\n  end_ms: 44120\n- text: Snub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\n  start_ms: 44120\n  end_ms: 46980\n- text: Killed him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\n  start_ms: 46980\n  end_ms: 50190\n- text: They caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\n  start_ms: 50190\n  end_ms: 52200\n- text: Slutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\n  start_ms: 52200\n  end_ms: 55130\n- text: She threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\n  start_ms: 55130\n  end_ms: 57560\n- text: Yup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\n  start_ms: 57560\n  end_ms: 60360\n- text: I know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\n  start_ms: 60360\n  end_ms: 62890\n- text: Gold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, pony\n  start_ms: 62890\n  end_ms: 65730\n- text: Leather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n  start_ms: 65730\n  end_ms: 68080\n- text: Knock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\n  start_ms: 68080\n  end_ms: 70480\n- text: Swing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\n  start_ms: 70480\n  end_ms: 73060\n- text: Specialize in mic rippers, splashes\n  start_ms: 73060\n  end_ms: 75530\n- text: We the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n  start_ms: 75530\n  end_ms: 78530\n- text: Beefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\n  start_ms: 78530\n  end_ms: 81240\n- text: Chase heads up and down the block and kill rats\n  start_ms: 81240\n  end_ms: 83870\n- text: Skilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\n  start_ms: 83870\n  end_ms: 87550\n- text: The shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\n  start_ms: 87550\n  end_ms: 89990\n- text: Four macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\n  start_ms: 89990\n  end_ms: 92580\n- text: Yeah, me and my nigga Arafat\n  start_ms: 92580\n  end_ms: 94830\n- text: Gotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\n  start_ms: 94830\n  end_ms: 97260\n- text: Chef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\n  start_ms: 97260\n  end_ms: 99700\n- text: Telling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\n  start_ms: 99700\n  end_ms: 102670\n- text: Pythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\n  start_ms: 102670\n  end_ms: 105280\n- text: I speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\n  start_ms: 105280\n  end_ms: 107810\n- text: I beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\n  start_ms: 107810\n  end_ms: 110570\n- text: Meanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\n  start_ms: 110570\n  end_ms: 113200\n- text: Then the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\n  start_ms: 113200\n  end_ms: 115750\n- text: Soon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n  start_ms: 115750\n  end_ms: 128940\n- text: Yeah, yo, I lit a boogah up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\n  start_ms: 128940\n  end_ms: 132550\n- text: Binocolurs, scanners, we all listen to jake\n  start_ms: 132550\n  end_ms: 134680\n- text: Ran out of baggies, my mouth is dry\n  start_ms: 134680\n  end_ms: 136670\n- text: Got them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\n  start_ms: 136670\n  end_ms: 139340\n- text: Nah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\n  start_ms: 139340\n  end_ms: 141870\n- text: Holding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\n  start_ms: 141870\n  end_ms: 144570\n- text: You know how it be with the peppermint Clarks, throwing darts at a hoodrat\n  start_ms: 144570\n  end_ms: 148080\n- text: Getting slow neck up in The Bronx\n  start_ms: 148080\n  end_ms: 149930\n- text: That's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\n  start_ms: 149930\n  end_ms: 152630\n- text: I just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\n  start_ms: 152630\n  end_ms: 155180\n- text: Like, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezzle\n  start_ms: 155180\n  end_ms: 157760\n- text: When I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\n  start_ms: 157760\n  end_ms: 160320\n- text: A deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\n  start_ms: 160320\n  end_ms: 162770\n- text: Ever since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\n  start_ms: 162770\n  end_ms: 165920\n- text: This ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\n  start_ms: 165920\n  end_ms: 169260\n- text: Cause you can get scratched like AJ\n  start_ms: 169260\n  end_ms: 171300\n- text: Cuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\n  start_ms: 171300\n  end_ms: 174270\n- text: I have a team of niggas moving my furs\n  start_ms: 174270\n  end_ms: 180230\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 180230\nplain: |-\n  Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\n  I need some of that, (slide through the back)\n  I need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\n  Back of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\n  We got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\n  Fault)\n\n  Aiyo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\n  But I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\n  Move up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\n  Soldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\n  Flamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\n  So many leeches I just left it and walked\n  My flow wicked, Miami money, moving and riducly\n  Geico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\n  Take baths with white women, lingerie see-through\n  Taking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\n  Selling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\n  Snub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\n  Killed him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\n  They caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\n  Slutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\n  She threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\n  Yup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\n  I know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\n  Gold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, pony\n  Leather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n\n  Knock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\n  Swing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\n  Specialize in mic rippers, splashes\n  We the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n\n  Beefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\n  Chase heads up and down the block and kill rats\n  Skilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\n  The shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\n  Four macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\n  Yeah, me and my nigga Arafat\n  Gotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\n  Chef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\n  Telling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\n  Pythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\n  I speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\n  I beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\n  Meanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\n  Then the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\n  Soon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n\n  Yeah, yo, I lit a boogah up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\n  Binocolurs, scanners, we all listen to jake\n  Ran out of baggies, my mouth is dry\n  Got them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\n  Nah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\n  Holding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\n  You know how it be with the peppermint Clarks, throwing darts at a hoodrat\n  Getting slow neck up in The Bronx\n  That's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\n  I just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\n  Like, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezzle\n  When I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\n  A deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\n  Ever since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\n  This ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\n  Cause you can get scratched like AJ\n  Cuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\n  I have a team of niggas moving my furs\n"},{"id":16556714,"name":"10 Bricks","trackName":"10 Bricks","artistName":"Raekwon","albumName":"Only Built 4 Cuban Linx 2","duration":197.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\nI need some of that, (slide through the back)\nI need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\nBack of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\nWe got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\nFault)\n\nAiyo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\nBut I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\nMove up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\nSoldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\nFlamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\nSo many leeches I just left it and walked\nMy flow wicked, Miami money, moving and riducly\nGeico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\nTake baths with white women, lingerie see-through\nTaking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\nSelling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\nSnub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\nKilled him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\nThey caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\nSlutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\nShe threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\nYup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\nI know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\nGold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, pony\nLeather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n\nKnock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\nSwing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\nSpecialize in mic rippers, splashes\nWe the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n\nBeefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\nChase heads up and down the block and kill rats\nSkilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\nThe shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\nFour macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\nYeah, me and my nigga Arafat\nGotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\nChef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\nTelling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\nPythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\nI speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\nI beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\nMeanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\nThen the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\nSoon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n\nYeah, yo, I lit a boogah up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\nBinocolurs, scanners, we all listen to jake\nRan out of baggies, my mouth is dry\nGot them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\nNah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\nHolding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\nYou know how it be with the peppermint Clarks, throwing darts at a hoodrat\nGetting slow neck up in The Bronx\nThat's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\nI just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\nLike, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezzle\nWhen I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\nA deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\nEver since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\nThis ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\nCause you can get scratched like AJ\nCuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\nI have a team of niggas moving my furs","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.88] Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\n[00:03.73] I need some of that, (slide through the back)\n[00:05.72] I need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\n[00:07.54] Back of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\n[00:11.10] We got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\n[00:13.78] Fault)\n[00:14.67] Aiyo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\n[00:17.82] But I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\n[00:20.33] Move up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\n[00:23.52] Soldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\n[00:25.61] Flamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\n[00:28.79] So many leeches I just left it and walked\n[00:30.61] My flow wicked, Miami money, moving and riducly\n[00:33.53] Geico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\n[00:36.17] Take baths with white women, lingerie see-through\n[00:39.05] Taking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\n[00:41.62] Selling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\n[00:44.12] Snub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\n[00:46.98] Killed him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\n[00:50.19] They caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\n[00:52.20] Slutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\n[00:55.13] She threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\n[00:57.56] Yup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\n[01:00.36] I know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\n[01:02.89] Gold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, pony\n[01:05.73] Leather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n[01:08.08] Knock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\n[01:10.48] Swing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\n[01:13.06] Specialize in mic rippers, splashes\n[01:15.53] We the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n[01:18.53] Beefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\n[01:21.24] Chase heads up and down the block and kill rats\n[01:23.87] Skilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\n[01:27.55] The shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\n[01:29.99] Four macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\n[01:32.58] Yeah, me and my nigga Arafat\n[01:34.83] Gotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\n[01:37.26] Chef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\n[01:39.70] Telling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\n[01:42.67] Pythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\n[01:45.28] I speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\n[01:47.81] I beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\n[01:50.57] Meanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\n[01:53.20] Then the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\n[01:55.75] Soon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n[02:08.94] Yeah, yo, I lit a boogah up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\n[02:12.55] Binocolurs, scanners, we all listen to jake\n[02:14.68] Ran out of baggies, my mouth is dry\n[02:16.67] Got them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\n[02:19.34] Nah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\n[02:21.87] Holding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\n[02:24.57] You know how it be with the peppermint Clarks, throwing darts at a hoodrat\n[02:28.08] Getting slow neck up in The Bronx\n[02:29.93] That's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\n[02:32.63] I just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\n[02:35.18] Like, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezzle\n[02:37.76] When I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\n[02:40.32] A deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\n[02:42.77] Ever since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\n[02:45.92] This ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\n[02:49.26] Cause you can get scratched like AJ\n[02:51.30] Cuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\n[02:54.27] I have a team of niggas moving my furs\n[03:00.23] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 10 Bricks\n  artist: Raekwon\n  album: Only Built 4 Cuban Linx 2\n  duration_ms: 197000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\n  start_ms: 1880\n  end_ms: 3730\n- text: I need some of that, (slide through the back)\n  start_ms: 3730\n  end_ms: 5720\n- text: I need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\n  start_ms: 5720\n  end_ms: 7540\n- text: Back of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\n  start_ms: 7540\n  end_ms: 11100\n- text: We got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\n  start_ms: 11100\n  end_ms: 13780\n- text: Fault)\n  start_ms: 13780\n  end_ms: 14670\n- text: Aiyo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\n  start_ms: 14670\n  end_ms: 17820\n- text: But I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\n  start_ms: 17820\n  end_ms: 20330\n- text: Move up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\n  start_ms: 20330\n  end_ms: 23520\n- text: Soldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\n  start_ms: 23520\n  end_ms: 25610\n- text: Flamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\n  start_ms: 25610\n  end_ms: 28790\n- text: So many leeches I just left it and walked\n  start_ms: 28790\n  end_ms: 30610\n- text: My flow wicked, Miami money, moving and riducly\n  start_ms: 30610\n  end_ms: 33530\n- text: Geico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\n  start_ms: 33530\n  end_ms: 36170\n- text: Take baths with white women, lingerie see-through\n  start_ms: 36170\n  end_ms: 39050\n- text: Taking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\n  start_ms: 39050\n  end_ms: 41620\n- text: Selling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\n  start_ms: 41620\n  end_ms: 44120\n- text: Snub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\n  start_ms: 44120\n  end_ms: 46980\n- text: Killed him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\n  start_ms: 46980\n  end_ms: 50190\n- text: They caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\n  start_ms: 50190\n  end_ms: 52200\n- text: Slutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\n  start_ms: 52200\n  end_ms: 55130\n- text: She threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\n  start_ms: 55130\n  end_ms: 57560\n- text: Yup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\n  start_ms: 57560\n  end_ms: 60360\n- text: I know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\n  start_ms: 60360\n  end_ms: 62890\n- text: Gold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, pony\n  start_ms: 62890\n  end_ms: 65730\n- text: Leather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n  start_ms: 65730\n  end_ms: 68080\n- text: Knock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\n  start_ms: 68080\n  end_ms: 70480\n- text: Swing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\n  start_ms: 70480\n  end_ms: 73060\n- text: Specialize in mic rippers, splashes\n  start_ms: 73060\n  end_ms: 75530\n- text: We the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n  start_ms: 75530\n  end_ms: 78530\n- text: Beefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\n  start_ms: 78530\n  end_ms: 81240\n- text: Chase heads up and down the block and kill rats\n  start_ms: 81240\n  end_ms: 83870\n- text: Skilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\n  start_ms: 83870\n  end_ms: 87550\n- text: The shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\n  start_ms: 87550\n  end_ms: 89990\n- text: Four macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\n  start_ms: 89990\n  end_ms: 92580\n- text: Yeah, me and my nigga Arafat\n  start_ms: 92580\n  end_ms: 94830\n- text: Gotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\n  start_ms: 94830\n  end_ms: 97260\n- text: Chef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\n  start_ms: 97260\n  end_ms: 99700\n- text: Telling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\n  start_ms: 99700\n  end_ms: 102670\n- text: Pythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\n  start_ms: 102670\n  end_ms: 105280\n- text: I speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\n  start_ms: 105280\n  end_ms: 107810\n- text: I beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\n  start_ms: 107810\n  end_ms: 110570\n- text: Meanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\n  start_ms: 110570\n  end_ms: 113200\n- text: Then the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\n  start_ms: 113200\n  end_ms: 115750\n- text: Soon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n  start_ms: 115750\n  end_ms: 128940\n- text: Yeah, yo, I lit a boogah up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\n  start_ms: 128940\n  end_ms: 132550\n- text: Binocolurs, scanners, we all listen to jake\n  start_ms: 132550\n  end_ms: 134680\n- text: Ran out of baggies, my mouth is dry\n  start_ms: 134680\n  end_ms: 136670\n- text: Got them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\n  start_ms: 136670\n  end_ms: 139340\n- text: Nah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\n  start_ms: 139340\n  end_ms: 141870\n- text: Holding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\n  start_ms: 141870\n  end_ms: 144570\n- text: You know how it be with the peppermint Clarks, throwing darts at a hoodrat\n  start_ms: 144570\n  end_ms: 148080\n- text: Getting slow neck up in The Bronx\n  start_ms: 148080\n  end_ms: 149930\n- text: That's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\n  start_ms: 149930\n  end_ms: 152630\n- text: I just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\n  start_ms: 152630\n  end_ms: 155180\n- text: Like, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezzle\n  start_ms: 155180\n  end_ms: 157760\n- text: When I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\n  start_ms: 157760\n  end_ms: 160320\n- text: A deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\n  start_ms: 160320\n  end_ms: 162770\n- text: Ever since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\n  start_ms: 162770\n  end_ms: 165920\n- text: This ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\n  start_ms: 165920\n  end_ms: 169260\n- text: Cause you can get scratched like AJ\n  start_ms: 169260\n  end_ms: 171300\n- text: Cuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\n  start_ms: 171300\n  end_ms: 174270\n- text: I have a team of niggas moving my furs\n  start_ms: 174270\n  end_ms: 180230\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 180230\nplain: |-\n  Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\n  I need some of that, (slide through the back)\n  I need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\n  Back of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\n  We got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\n  Fault)\n\n  Aiyo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\n  But I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\n  Move up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\n  Soldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\n  Flamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\n  So many leeches I just left it and walked\n  My flow wicked, Miami money, moving and riducly\n  Geico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\n  Take baths with white women, lingerie see-through\n  Taking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\n  Selling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\n  Snub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\n  Killed him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\n  They caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\n  Slutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\n  She threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\n  Yup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\n  I know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\n  Gold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, pony\n  Leather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n\n  Knock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\n  Swing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\n  Specialize in mic rippers, splashes\n  We the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n\n  Beefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\n  Chase heads up and down the block and kill rats\n  Skilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\n  The shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\n  Four macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\n  Yeah, me and my nigga Arafat\n  Gotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\n  Chef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\n  Telling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\n  Pythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\n  I speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\n  I beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\n  Meanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\n  Then the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\n  Soon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n\n  Yeah, yo, I lit a boogah up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\n  Binocolurs, scanners, we all listen to jake\n  Ran out of baggies, my mouth is dry\n  Got them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\n  Nah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\n  Holding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\n  You know how it be with the peppermint Clarks, throwing darts at a hoodrat\n  Getting slow neck up in The Bronx\n  That's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\n  I just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\n  Like, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezzle\n  When I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\n  A deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\n  Ever since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\n  This ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\n  Cause you can get scratched like AJ\n  Cuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\n  I have a team of niggas moving my furs\n"},{"id":10039102,"name":"10 Bricks","trackName":"10 Bricks","artistName":"Raekwon","albumName":"Only Built 4 Cuban Linx Part II","duration":196.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\nI need some of that, (slide through the back)\nI need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\nBack of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\nWe got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\nFault)\n\nAiyo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\nBut I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\nMove up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\nSoldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\nFlamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\nSo many leeches I just left it and walked\nMy flow wicked, Miami money, moving and riducly\nGeico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\nTake baths with white women, lingerie see-through\nTaking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\nSelling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\nSnub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\nKilled him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\nThey caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\nSlutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\nShe threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\nYup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\nI know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\nGold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, pony\nLeather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n\nKnock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\nSwing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\nSpecialize in mic rippers, splashes\nWe the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n\nBeefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\nChase heads up and down the block and kill rats\nSkilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\nThe shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\nFour macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\nYeah, me and my nigga Arafat\nGotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\nChef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\nTelling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\nPythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\nI speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\nI beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\nMeanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\nThen the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\nSoon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n\nYeah, yo, I lit a boogah up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\nBinocolurs, scanners, we all listen to jake\nRan out of baggies, my mouth is dry\nGot them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\nNah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\nHolding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\nYou know how it be with the peppermint Clarks, throwing darts at a hoodrat\nGetting slow neck up in The Bronx\nThat's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\nI just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\nLike, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezzle\nWhen I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\nA deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\nEver since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\nThis ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\nCause you can get scratched like AJ\nCuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\nI have a team of niggas moving my furs","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.88] Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\n[00:03.73] I need some of that, (slide through the back)\n[00:05.72] I need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\n[00:07.54] Back of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\n[00:11.10] We got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\n[00:13.78] Fault)\n[00:14.67] Aiyo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\n[00:17.82] But I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\n[00:20.33] Move up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\n[00:23.52] Soldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\n[00:25.61] Flamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\n[00:28.79] So many leeches I just left it and walked\n[00:30.61] My flow wicked, Miami money, moving and riducly\n[00:33.53] Geico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\n[00:36.17] Take baths with white women, lingerie see-through\n[00:39.05] Taking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\n[00:41.62] Selling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\n[00:44.12] Snub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\n[00:46.98] Killed him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\n[00:50.19] They caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\n[00:52.20] Slutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\n[00:55.13] She threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\n[00:57.56] Yup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\n[01:00.36] I know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\n[01:02.89] Gold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, pony\n[01:05.73] Leather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n[01:08.08] Knock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\n[01:10.48] Swing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\n[01:13.06] Specialize in mic rippers, splashes\n[01:15.53] We the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n[01:18.53] Beefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\n[01:21.24] Chase heads up and down the block and kill rats\n[01:23.87] Skilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\n[01:27.55] The shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\n[01:29.99] Four macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\n[01:32.58] Yeah, me and my nigga Arafat\n[01:34.83] Gotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\n[01:37.26] Chef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\n[01:39.70] Telling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\n[01:42.67] Pythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\n[01:45.28] I speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\n[01:47.81] I beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\n[01:50.57] Meanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\n[01:53.20] Then the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\n[01:55.75] Soon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n[02:08.94] Yeah, yo, I lit a boogah up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\n[02:12.55] Binocolurs, scanners, we all listen to jake\n[02:14.68] Ran out of baggies, my mouth is dry\n[02:16.67] Got them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\n[02:19.34] Nah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\n[02:21.87] Holding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\n[02:24.57] You know how it be with the peppermint Clarks, throwing darts at a hoodrat\n[02:28.08] Getting slow neck up in The Bronx\n[02:29.93] That's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\n[02:32.63] I just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\n[02:35.18] Like, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezzle\n[02:37.76] When I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\n[02:40.32] A deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\n[02:42.77] Ever since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\n[02:45.92] This ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\n[02:49.26] Cause you can get scratched like AJ\n[02:51.30] Cuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\n[02:54.27] I have a team of niggas moving my furs\n[03:00.23] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 10 Bricks\n  artist: Raekwon\n  album: Only Built 4 Cuban Linx Part II\n  duration_ms: 196000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\n  start_ms: 1880\n  end_ms: 3730\n- text: I need some of that, (slide through the back)\n  start_ms: 3730\n  end_ms: 5720\n- text: I need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\n  start_ms: 5720\n  end_ms: 7540\n- text: Back of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\n  start_ms: 7540\n  end_ms: 11100\n- text: We got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\n  start_ms: 11100\n  end_ms: 13780\n- text: Fault)\n  start_ms: 13780\n  end_ms: 14670\n- text: Aiyo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\n  start_ms: 14670\n  end_ms: 17820\n- text: But I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\n  start_ms: 17820\n  end_ms: 20330\n- text: Move up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\n  start_ms: 20330\n  end_ms: 23520\n- text: Soldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\n  start_ms: 23520\n  end_ms: 25610\n- text: Flamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\n  start_ms: 25610\n  end_ms: 28790\n- text: So many leeches I just left it and walked\n  start_ms: 28790\n  end_ms: 30610\n- text: My flow wicked, Miami money, moving and riducly\n  start_ms: 30610\n  end_ms: 33530\n- text: Geico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\n  start_ms: 33530\n  end_ms: 36170\n- text: Take baths with white women, lingerie see-through\n  start_ms: 36170\n  end_ms: 39050\n- text: Taking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\n  start_ms: 39050\n  end_ms: 41620\n- text: Selling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\n  start_ms: 41620\n  end_ms: 44120\n- text: Snub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\n  start_ms: 44120\n  end_ms: 46980\n- text: Killed him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\n  start_ms: 46980\n  end_ms: 50190\n- text: They caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\n  start_ms: 50190\n  end_ms: 52200\n- text: Slutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\n  start_ms: 52200\n  end_ms: 55130\n- text: She threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\n  start_ms: 55130\n  end_ms: 57560\n- text: Yup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\n  start_ms: 57560\n  end_ms: 60360\n- text: I know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\n  start_ms: 60360\n  end_ms: 62890\n- text: Gold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, pony\n  start_ms: 62890\n  end_ms: 65730\n- text: Leather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n  start_ms: 65730\n  end_ms: 68080\n- text: Knock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\n  start_ms: 68080\n  end_ms: 70480\n- text: Swing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\n  start_ms: 70480\n  end_ms: 73060\n- text: Specialize in mic rippers, splashes\n  start_ms: 73060\n  end_ms: 75530\n- text: We the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n  start_ms: 75530\n  end_ms: 78530\n- text: Beefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\n  start_ms: 78530\n  end_ms: 81240\n- text: Chase heads up and down the block and kill rats\n  start_ms: 81240\n  end_ms: 83870\n- text: Skilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\n  start_ms: 83870\n  end_ms: 87550\n- text: The shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\n  start_ms: 87550\n  end_ms: 89990\n- text: Four macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\n  start_ms: 89990\n  end_ms: 92580\n- text: Yeah, me and my nigga Arafat\n  start_ms: 92580\n  end_ms: 94830\n- text: Gotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\n  start_ms: 94830\n  end_ms: 97260\n- text: Chef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\n  start_ms: 97260\n  end_ms: 99700\n- text: Telling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\n  start_ms: 99700\n  end_ms: 102670\n- text: Pythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\n  start_ms: 102670\n  end_ms: 105280\n- text: I speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\n  start_ms: 105280\n  end_ms: 107810\n- text: I beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\n  start_ms: 107810\n  end_ms: 110570\n- text: Meanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\n  start_ms: 110570\n  end_ms: 113200\n- text: Then the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\n  start_ms: 113200\n  end_ms: 115750\n- text: Soon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n  start_ms: 115750\n  end_ms: 128940\n- text: Yeah, yo, I lit a boogah up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\n  start_ms: 128940\n  end_ms: 132550\n- text: Binocolurs, scanners, we all listen to jake\n  start_ms: 132550\n  end_ms: 134680\n- text: Ran out of baggies, my mouth is dry\n  start_ms: 134680\n  end_ms: 136670\n- text: Got them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\n  start_ms: 136670\n  end_ms: 139340\n- text: Nah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\n  start_ms: 139340\n  end_ms: 141870\n- text: Holding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\n  start_ms: 141870\n  end_ms: 144570\n- text: You know how it be with the peppermint Clarks, throwing darts at a hoodrat\n  start_ms: 144570\n  end_ms: 148080\n- text: Getting slow neck up in The Bronx\n  start_ms: 148080\n  end_ms: 149930\n- text: That's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\n  start_ms: 149930\n  end_ms: 152630\n- text: I just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\n  start_ms: 152630\n  end_ms: 155180\n- text: Like, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezzle\n  start_ms: 155180\n  end_ms: 157760\n- text: When I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\n  start_ms: 157760\n  end_ms: 160320\n- text: A deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\n  start_ms: 160320\n  end_ms: 162770\n- text: Ever since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\n  start_ms: 162770\n  end_ms: 165920\n- text: This ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\n  start_ms: 165920\n  end_ms: 169260\n- text: Cause you can get scratched like AJ\n  start_ms: 169260\n  end_ms: 171300\n- text: Cuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\n  start_ms: 171300\n  end_ms: 174270\n- text: I have a team of niggas moving my furs\n  start_ms: 174270\n  end_ms: 180230\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 180230\nplain: |-\n  Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\n  I need some of that, (slide through the back)\n  I need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\n  Back of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\n  We got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\n  Fault)\n\n  Aiyo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\n  But I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\n  Move up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\n  Soldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\n  Flamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\n  So many leeches I just left it and walked\n  My flow wicked, Miami money, moving and riducly\n  Geico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\n  Take baths with white women, lingerie see-through\n  Taking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\n  Selling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\n  Snub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\n  Killed him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\n  They caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\n  Slutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\n  She threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\n  Yup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\n  I know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\n  Gold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, pony\n  Leather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n\n  Knock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\n  Swing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\n  Specialize in mic rippers, splashes\n  We the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n\n  Beefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\n  Chase heads up and down the block and kill rats\n  Skilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\n  The shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\n  Four macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\n  Yeah, me and my nigga Arafat\n  Gotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\n  Chef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\n  Telling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\n  Pythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\n  I speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\n  I beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\n  Meanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\n  Then the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\n  Soon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n\n  Yeah, yo, I lit a boogah up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\n  Binocolurs, scanners, we all listen to jake\n  Ran out of baggies, my mouth is dry\n  Got them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\n  Nah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\n  Holding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\n  You know how it be with the peppermint Clarks, throwing darts at a hoodrat\n  Getting slow neck up in The Bronx\n  That's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\n  I just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\n  Like, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezzle\n  When I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\n  A deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\n  Ever since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\n  This ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\n  Cause you can get scratched like AJ\n  Cuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\n  I have a team of niggas moving my furs\n"},{"id":9402661,"name":"10 Bricks","trackName":"10 Bricks","artistName":"Raekwon","albumName":"Only Built 4 Cuban Linx... Pt II","duration":197.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\nI need some of that, (slide through the back)\nI need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\nBack of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\nWe got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\nFault)\n\nAiyo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\nBut I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\nMove up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\nSoldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\nFlamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\nSo many leeches I just left it and walked\nMy flow wicked, Miami money, moving and riducly\nGeico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\nTake baths with white women, lingerie see-through\nTaking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\nSelling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\nSnub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\nKilled him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\nThey caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\nSlutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\nShe threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\nYup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\nI know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\nGold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, pony\nLeather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n\nKnock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\nSwing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\nSpecialize in mic rippers, splashes\nWe the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n\nBeefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\nChase heads up and down the block and kill rats\nSkilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\nThe shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\nFour macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\nYeah, me and my nigga Arafat\nGotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\nChef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\nTelling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\nPythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\nI speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\nI beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\nMeanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\nThen the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\nSoon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n\nYeah, yo, I lit a boogah up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\nBinocolurs, scanners, we all listen to jake\nRan out of baggies, my mouth is dry\nGot them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\nNah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\nHolding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\nYou know how it be with the peppermint Clarks, throwing darts at a hoodrat\nGetting slow neck up in The Bronx\nThat's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\nI just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\nLike, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezzle\nWhen I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\nA deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\nEver since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\nThis ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\nCause you can get scratched like AJ\nCuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\nI have a team of niggas moving my furs","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.88] Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\n[00:03.73] I need some of that, (slide through the back)\n[00:05.72] I need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\n[00:07.54] Back of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\n[00:11.10] We got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\n[00:13.78] Fault)\n[00:14.67] Aiyo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\n[00:17.82] But I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\n[00:20.33] Move up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\n[00:23.52] Soldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\n[00:25.61] Flamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\n[00:28.79] So many leeches I just left it and walked\n[00:30.61] My flow wicked, Miami money, moving and riducly\n[00:33.53] Geico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\n[00:36.17] Take baths with white women, lingerie see-through\n[00:39.05] Taking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\n[00:41.62] Selling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\n[00:44.12] Snub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\n[00:46.98] Killed him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\n[00:50.19] They caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\n[00:52.20] Slutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\n[00:55.13] She threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\n[00:57.56] Yup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\n[01:00.36] I know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\n[01:02.89] Gold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, pony\n[01:05.73] Leather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n[01:08.08] Knock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\n[01:10.48] Swing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\n[01:13.06] Specialize in mic rippers, splashes\n[01:15.53] We the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n[01:18.53] Beefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\n[01:21.24] Chase heads up and down the block and kill rats\n[01:23.87] Skilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\n[01:27.55] The shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\n[01:29.99] Four macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\n[01:32.58] Yeah, me and my nigga Arafat\n[01:34.83] Gotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\n[01:37.26] Chef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\n[01:39.70] Telling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\n[01:42.67] Pythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\n[01:45.28] I speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\n[01:47.81] I beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\n[01:50.57] Meanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\n[01:53.20] Then the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\n[01:55.75] Soon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n[02:08.94] Yeah, yo, I lit a boogah up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\n[02:12.55] Binocolurs, scanners, we all listen to jake\n[02:14.68] Ran out of baggies, my mouth is dry\n[02:16.67] Got them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\n[02:19.34] Nah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\n[02:21.87] Holding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\n[02:24.57] You know how it be with the peppermint Clarks, throwing darts at a hoodrat\n[02:28.08] Getting slow neck up in The Bronx\n[02:29.93] That's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\n[02:32.63] I just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\n[02:35.18] Like, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezzle\n[02:37.76] When I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\n[02:40.32] A deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\n[02:42.77] Ever since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\n[02:45.92] This ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\n[02:49.26] Cause you can get scratched like AJ\n[02:51.30] Cuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\n[02:54.27] I have a team of niggas moving my furs\n[03:00.23] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 10 Bricks\n  artist: Raekwon\n  album: Only Built 4 Cuban Linx... Pt II\n  duration_ms: 197000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\n  start_ms: 1880\n  end_ms: 3730\n- text: I need some of that, (slide through the back)\n  start_ms: 3730\n  end_ms: 5720\n- text: I need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\n  start_ms: 5720\n  end_ms: 7540\n- text: Back of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\n  start_ms: 7540\n  end_ms: 11100\n- text: We got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\n  start_ms: 11100\n  end_ms: 13780\n- text: Fault)\n  start_ms: 13780\n  end_ms: 14670\n- text: Aiyo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\n  start_ms: 14670\n  end_ms: 17820\n- text: But I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\n  start_ms: 17820\n  end_ms: 20330\n- text: Move up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\n  start_ms: 20330\n  end_ms: 23520\n- text: Soldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\n  start_ms: 23520\n  end_ms: 25610\n- text: Flamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\n  start_ms: 25610\n  end_ms: 28790\n- text: So many leeches I just left it and walked\n  start_ms: 28790\n  end_ms: 30610\n- text: My flow wicked, Miami money, moving and riducly\n  start_ms: 30610\n  end_ms: 33530\n- text: Geico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\n  start_ms: 33530\n  end_ms: 36170\n- text: Take baths with white women, lingerie see-through\n  start_ms: 36170\n  end_ms: 39050\n- text: Taking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\n  start_ms: 39050\n  end_ms: 41620\n- text: Selling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\n  start_ms: 41620\n  end_ms: 44120\n- text: Snub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\n  start_ms: 44120\n  end_ms: 46980\n- text: Killed him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\n  start_ms: 46980\n  end_ms: 50190\n- text: They caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\n  start_ms: 50190\n  end_ms: 52200\n- text: Slutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\n  start_ms: 52200\n  end_ms: 55130\n- text: She threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\n  start_ms: 55130\n  end_ms: 57560\n- text: Yup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\n  start_ms: 57560\n  end_ms: 60360\n- text: I know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\n  start_ms: 60360\n  end_ms: 62890\n- text: Gold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, pony\n  start_ms: 62890\n  end_ms: 65730\n- text: Leather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n  start_ms: 65730\n  end_ms: 68080\n- text: Knock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\n  start_ms: 68080\n  end_ms: 70480\n- text: Swing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\n  start_ms: 70480\n  end_ms: 73060\n- text: Specialize in mic rippers, splashes\n  start_ms: 73060\n  end_ms: 75530\n- text: We the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n  start_ms: 75530\n  end_ms: 78530\n- text: Beefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\n  start_ms: 78530\n  end_ms: 81240\n- text: Chase heads up and down the block and kill rats\n  start_ms: 81240\n  end_ms: 83870\n- text: Skilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\n  start_ms: 83870\n  end_ms: 87550\n- text: The shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\n  start_ms: 87550\n  end_ms: 89990\n- text: Four macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\n  start_ms: 89990\n  end_ms: 92580\n- text: Yeah, me and my nigga Arafat\n  start_ms: 92580\n  end_ms: 94830\n- text: Gotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\n  start_ms: 94830\n  end_ms: 97260\n- text: Chef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\n  start_ms: 97260\n  end_ms: 99700\n- text: Telling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\n  start_ms: 99700\n  end_ms: 102670\n- text: Pythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\n  start_ms: 102670\n  end_ms: 105280\n- text: I speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\n  start_ms: 105280\n  end_ms: 107810\n- text: I beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\n  start_ms: 107810\n  end_ms: 110570\n- text: Meanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\n  start_ms: 110570\n  end_ms: 113200\n- text: Then the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\n  start_ms: 113200\n  end_ms: 115750\n- text: Soon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n  start_ms: 115750\n  end_ms: 128940\n- text: Yeah, yo, I lit a boogah up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\n  start_ms: 128940\n  end_ms: 132550\n- text: Binocolurs, scanners, we all listen to jake\n  start_ms: 132550\n  end_ms: 134680\n- text: Ran out of baggies, my mouth is dry\n  start_ms: 134680\n  end_ms: 136670\n- text: Got them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\n  start_ms: 136670\n  end_ms: 139340\n- text: Nah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\n  start_ms: 139340\n  end_ms: 141870\n- text: Holding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\n  start_ms: 141870\n  end_ms: 144570\n- text: You know how it be with the peppermint Clarks, throwing darts at a hoodrat\n  start_ms: 144570\n  end_ms: 148080\n- text: Getting slow neck up in The Bronx\n  start_ms: 148080\n  end_ms: 149930\n- text: That's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\n  start_ms: 149930\n  end_ms: 152630\n- text: I just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\n  start_ms: 152630\n  end_ms: 155180\n- text: Like, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezzle\n  start_ms: 155180\n  end_ms: 157760\n- text: When I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\n  start_ms: 157760\n  end_ms: 160320\n- text: A deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\n  start_ms: 160320\n  end_ms: 162770\n- text: Ever since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\n  start_ms: 162770\n  end_ms: 165920\n- text: This ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\n  start_ms: 165920\n  end_ms: 169260\n- text: Cause you can get scratched like AJ\n  start_ms: 169260\n  end_ms: 171300\n- text: Cuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\n  start_ms: 171300\n  end_ms: 174270\n- text: I have a team of niggas moving my furs\n  start_ms: 174270\n  end_ms: 180230\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 180230\nplain: |-\n  Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\n  I need some of that, (slide through the back)\n  I need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\n  Back of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\n  We got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\n  Fault)\n\n  Aiyo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\n  But I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\n  Move up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\n  Soldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\n  Flamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\n  So many leeches I just left it and walked\n  My flow wicked, Miami money, moving and riducly\n  Geico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\n  Take baths with white women, lingerie see-through\n  Taking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\n  Selling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\n  Snub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\n  Killed him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\n  They caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\n  Slutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\n  She threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\n  Yup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\n  I know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\n  Gold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, pony\n  Leather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n\n  Knock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\n  Swing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\n  Specialize in mic rippers, splashes\n  We the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n\n  Beefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\n  Chase heads up and down the block and kill rats\n  Skilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\n  The shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\n  Four macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\n  Yeah, me and my nigga Arafat\n  Gotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\n  Chef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\n  Telling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\n  Pythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\n  I speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\n  I beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\n  Meanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\n  Then the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\n  Soon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n\n  Yeah, yo, I lit a boogah up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\n  Binocolurs, scanners, we all listen to jake\n  Ran out of baggies, my mouth is dry\n  Got them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\n  Nah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\n  Holding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\n  You know how it be with the peppermint Clarks, throwing darts at a hoodrat\n  Getting slow neck up in The Bronx\n  That's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\n  I just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\n  Like, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezzle\n  When I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\n  A deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\n  Ever since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\n  This ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\n  Cause you can get scratched like AJ\n  Cuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\n  I have a team of niggas moving my furs\n"},{"id":9818794,"name":"10 Bricks","trackName":"10 Bricks","artistName":"Raekwon","albumName":"Only Built 4 Cuban Linx… Pt II","duration":196.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\nI need some of that, (slide through the back)\nI need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\nBack of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\nWe got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\nFault)\n\nAiyo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\nBut I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\nMove up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\nSoldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\nFlamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\nSo many leeches I just left it and walked\nMy flow wicked, Miami money, moving and riducly\nGeico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\nTake baths with white women, lingerie see-through\nTaking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\nSelling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\nSnub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\nKilled him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\nThey caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\nSlutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\nShe threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\nYup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\nI know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\nGold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, pony\nLeather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n\nKnock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\nSwing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\nSpecialize in mic rippers, splashes\nWe the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n\nBeefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\nChase heads up and down the block and kill rats\nSkilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\nThe shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\nFour macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\nYeah, me and my nigga Arafat\nGotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\nChef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\nTelling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\nPythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\nI speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\nI beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\nMeanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\nThen the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\nSoon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n\nYeah, yo, I lit a boogah up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\nBinocolurs, scanners, we all listen to jake\nRan out of baggies, my mouth is dry\nGot them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\nNah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\nHolding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\nYou know how it be with the peppermint Clarks, throwing darts at a hoodrat\nGetting slow neck up in The Bronx\nThat's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\nI just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\nLike, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezzle\nWhen I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\nA deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\nEver since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\nThis ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\nCause you can get scratched like AJ\nCuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\nI have a team of niggas moving my furs","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.88] Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\n[00:03.73] I need some of that, (slide through the back)\n[00:05.72] I need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\n[00:07.54] Back of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\n[00:11.10] We got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\n[00:13.78] Fault)\n[00:14.67] Aiyo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\n[00:17.82] But I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\n[00:20.33] Move up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\n[00:23.52] Soldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\n[00:25.61] Flamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\n[00:28.79] So many leeches I just left it and walked\n[00:30.61] My flow wicked, Miami money, moving and riducly\n[00:33.53] Geico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\n[00:36.17] Take baths with white women, lingerie see-through\n[00:39.05] Taking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\n[00:41.62] Selling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\n[00:44.12] Snub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\n[00:46.98] Killed him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\n[00:50.19] They caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\n[00:52.20] Slutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\n[00:55.13] She threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\n[00:57.56] Yup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\n[01:00.36] I know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\n[01:02.89] Gold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, pony\n[01:05.73] Leather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n[01:08.08] Knock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\n[01:10.48] Swing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\n[01:13.06] Specialize in mic rippers, splashes\n[01:15.53] We the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n[01:18.53] Beefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\n[01:21.24] Chase heads up and down the block and kill rats\n[01:23.87] Skilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\n[01:27.55] The shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\n[01:29.99] Four macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\n[01:32.58] Yeah, me and my nigga Arafat\n[01:34.83] Gotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\n[01:37.26] Chef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\n[01:39.70] Telling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\n[01:42.67] Pythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\n[01:45.28] I speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\n[01:47.81] I beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\n[01:50.57] Meanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\n[01:53.20] Then the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\n[01:55.75] Soon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n[02:08.94] Yeah, yo, I lit a boogah up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\n[02:12.55] Binocolurs, scanners, we all listen to jake\n[02:14.68] Ran out of baggies, my mouth is dry\n[02:16.67] Got them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\n[02:19.34] Nah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\n[02:21.87] Holding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\n[02:24.57] You know how it be with the peppermint Clarks, throwing darts at a hoodrat\n[02:28.08] Getting slow neck up in The Bronx\n[02:29.93] That's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\n[02:32.63] I just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\n[02:35.18] Like, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezzle\n[02:37.76] When I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\n[02:40.32] A deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\n[02:42.77] Ever since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\n[02:45.92] This ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\n[02:49.26] Cause you can get scratched like AJ\n[02:51.30] Cuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\n[02:54.27] I have a team of niggas moving my furs\n[03:00.23] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 10 Bricks\n  artist: Raekwon\n  album: Only Built 4 Cuban Linx… Pt II\n  duration_ms: 196000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\n  start_ms: 1880\n  end_ms: 3730\n- text: I need some of that, (slide through the back)\n  start_ms: 3730\n  end_ms: 5720\n- text: I need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\n  start_ms: 5720\n  end_ms: 7540\n- text: Back of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\n  start_ms: 7540\n  end_ms: 11100\n- text: We got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\n  start_ms: 11100\n  end_ms: 13780\n- text: Fault)\n  start_ms: 13780\n  end_ms: 14670\n- text: Aiyo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\n  start_ms: 14670\n  end_ms: 17820\n- text: But I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\n  start_ms: 17820\n  end_ms: 20330\n- text: Move up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\n  start_ms: 20330\n  end_ms: 23520\n- text: Soldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\n  start_ms: 23520\n  end_ms: 25610\n- text: Flamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\n  start_ms: 25610\n  end_ms: 28790\n- text: So many leeches I just left it and walked\n  start_ms: 28790\n  end_ms: 30610\n- text: My flow wicked, Miami money, moving and riducly\n  start_ms: 30610\n  end_ms: 33530\n- text: Geico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\n  start_ms: 33530\n  end_ms: 36170\n- text: Take baths with white women, lingerie see-through\n  start_ms: 36170\n  end_ms: 39050\n- text: Taking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\n  start_ms: 39050\n  end_ms: 41620\n- text: Selling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\n  start_ms: 41620\n  end_ms: 44120\n- text: Snub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\n  start_ms: 44120\n  end_ms: 46980\n- text: Killed him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\n  start_ms: 46980\n  end_ms: 50190\n- text: They caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\n  start_ms: 50190\n  end_ms: 52200\n- text: Slutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\n  start_ms: 52200\n  end_ms: 55130\n- text: She threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\n  start_ms: 55130\n  end_ms: 57560\n- text: Yup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\n  start_ms: 57560\n  end_ms: 60360\n- text: I know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\n  start_ms: 60360\n  end_ms: 62890\n- text: Gold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, pony\n  start_ms: 62890\n  end_ms: 65730\n- text: Leather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n  start_ms: 65730\n  end_ms: 68080\n- text: Knock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\n  start_ms: 68080\n  end_ms: 70480\n- text: Swing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\n  start_ms: 70480\n  end_ms: 73060\n- text: Specialize in mic rippers, splashes\n  start_ms: 73060\n  end_ms: 75530\n- text: We the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n  start_ms: 75530\n  end_ms: 78530\n- text: Beefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\n  start_ms: 78530\n  end_ms: 81240\n- text: Chase heads up and down the block and kill rats\n  start_ms: 81240\n  end_ms: 83870\n- text: Skilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\n  start_ms: 83870\n  end_ms: 87550\n- text: The shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\n  start_ms: 87550\n  end_ms: 89990\n- text: Four macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\n  start_ms: 89990\n  end_ms: 92580\n- text: Yeah, me and my nigga Arafat\n  start_ms: 92580\n  end_ms: 94830\n- text: Gotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\n  start_ms: 94830\n  end_ms: 97260\n- text: Chef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\n  start_ms: 97260\n  end_ms: 99700\n- text: Telling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\n  start_ms: 99700\n  end_ms: 102670\n- text: Pythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\n  start_ms: 102670\n  end_ms: 105280\n- text: I speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\n  start_ms: 105280\n  end_ms: 107810\n- text: I beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\n  start_ms: 107810\n  end_ms: 110570\n- text: Meanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\n  start_ms: 110570\n  end_ms: 113200\n- text: Then the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\n  start_ms: 113200\n  end_ms: 115750\n- text: Soon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n  start_ms: 115750\n  end_ms: 128940\n- text: Yeah, yo, I lit a boogah up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\n  start_ms: 128940\n  end_ms: 132550\n- text: Binocolurs, scanners, we all listen to jake\n  start_ms: 132550\n  end_ms: 134680\n- text: Ran out of baggies, my mouth is dry\n  start_ms: 134680\n  end_ms: 136670\n- text: Got them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\n  start_ms: 136670\n  end_ms: 139340\n- text: Nah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\n  start_ms: 139340\n  end_ms: 141870\n- text: Holding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\n  start_ms: 141870\n  end_ms: 144570\n- text: You know how it be with the peppermint Clarks, throwing darts at a hoodrat\n  start_ms: 144570\n  end_ms: 148080\n- text: Getting slow neck up in The Bronx\n  start_ms: 148080\n  end_ms: 149930\n- text: That's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\n  start_ms: 149930\n  end_ms: 152630\n- text: I just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\n  start_ms: 152630\n  end_ms: 155180\n- text: Like, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezzle\n  start_ms: 155180\n  end_ms: 157760\n- text: When I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\n  start_ms: 157760\n  end_ms: 160320\n- text: A deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\n  start_ms: 160320\n  end_ms: 162770\n- text: Ever since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\n  start_ms: 162770\n  end_ms: 165920\n- text: This ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\n  start_ms: 165920\n  end_ms: 169260\n- text: Cause you can get scratched like AJ\n  start_ms: 169260\n  end_ms: 171300\n- text: Cuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\n  start_ms: 171300\n  end_ms: 174270\n- text: I have a team of niggas moving my furs\n  start_ms: 174270\n  end_ms: 180230\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 180230\nplain: |-\n  Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\n  I need some of that, (slide through the back)\n  I need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\n  Back of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\n  We got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\n  Fault)\n\n  Aiyo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\n  But I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\n  Move up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\n  Soldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\n  Flamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\n  So many leeches I just left it and walked\n  My flow wicked, Miami money, moving and riducly\n  Geico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\n  Take baths with white women, lingerie see-through\n  Taking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\n  Selling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\n  Snub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\n  Killed him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\n  They caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\n  Slutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\n  She threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\n  Yup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\n  I know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\n  Gold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, pony\n  Leather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n\n  Knock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\n  Swing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\n  Specialize in mic rippers, splashes\n  We the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n\n  Beefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\n  Chase heads up and down the block and kill rats\n  Skilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\n  The shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\n  Four macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\n  Yeah, me and my nigga Arafat\n  Gotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\n  Chef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\n  Telling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\n  Pythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\n  I speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\n  I beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\n  Meanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\n  Then the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\n  Soon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n\n  Yeah, yo, I lit a boogah up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\n  Binocolurs, scanners, we all listen to jake\n  Ran out of baggies, my mouth is dry\n  Got them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\n  Nah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\n  Holding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\n  You know how it be with the peppermint Clarks, throwing darts at a hoodrat\n  Getting slow neck up in The Bronx\n  That's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\n  I just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\n  Like, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezzle\n  When I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\n  A deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\n  Ever since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\n  This ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\n  Cause you can get scratched like AJ\n  Cuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\n  I have a team of niggas moving my furs\n"},{"id":33895495,"name":"10 Bricks","trackName":"10 Bricks","artistName":"Raekwon","albumName":"Coke Up in da Dollar Bill","duration":151.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\nI need some of that, (slide through the back)\nI need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\nBack of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\nWe got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\nFault)\n\nAiyo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\nBut I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\nMove up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\nSoldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\nFlamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\nSo many leeches I just left it and walked\nMy flow wicked, Miami money, moving and riducly\nGeico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\nTake baths with white women, lingerie see-through\nTaking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\nSelling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\nSnub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\nKilled him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\nThey caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\nSlutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\nShe threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\nYup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\nI know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\nGold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, pony\nLeather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n\nKnock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\nSwing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\nSpecialize in mic rippers, splashes\nWe the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n\nBeefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\nChase heads up and down the block and kill rats\nSkilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\nThe shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\nFour macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\nYeah, me and my nigga Arafat\nGotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\nChef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\nTelling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\nPythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\nI speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\nI beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\nMeanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\nThen the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\nSoon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n\nYeah, yo, I lit a boogah up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\nBinocolurs, scanners, we all listen to jake\nRan out of baggies, my mouth is dry\nGot them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\nNah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\nHolding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\nYou know how it be with the peppermint Clarks, throwing darts at a hoodrat\nGetting slow neck up in The Bronx\nThat's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\nI just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\nLike, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezzle\nWhen I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\nA deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\nEver since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\nThis ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\nCause you can get scratched like AJ\nCuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\nI have a team of niggas moving my furs","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.88] Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\n[00:03.73] I need some of that, (slide through the back)\n[00:05.72] I need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\n[00:07.54] Back of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\n[00:11.10] We got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\n[00:13.78] Fault)\n[00:14.67] Aiyo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\n[00:17.82] But I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\n[00:20.33] Move up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\n[00:23.52] Soldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\n[00:25.61] Flamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\n[00:28.79] So many leeches I just left it and walked\n[00:30.61] My flow wicked, Miami money, moving and riducly\n[00:33.53] Geico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\n[00:36.17] Take baths with white women, lingerie see-through\n[00:39.05] Taking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\n[00:41.62] Selling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\n[00:44.12] Snub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\n[00:46.98] Killed him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\n[00:50.19] They caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\n[00:52.20] Slutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\n[00:55.13] She threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\n[00:57.56] Yup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\n[01:00.36] I know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\n[01:02.89] Gold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, pony\n[01:05.73] Leather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n[01:08.08] Knock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\n[01:10.48] Swing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\n[01:13.06] Specialize in mic rippers, splashes\n[01:15.53] We the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n[01:18.53] Beefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\n[01:21.24] Chase heads up and down the block and kill rats\n[01:23.87] Skilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\n[01:27.55] The shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\n[01:29.99] Four macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\n[01:32.58] Yeah, me and my nigga Arafat\n[01:34.83] Gotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\n[01:37.26] Chef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\n[01:39.70] Telling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\n[01:42.67] Pythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\n[01:45.28] I speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\n[01:47.81] I beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\n[01:50.57] Meanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\n[01:53.20] Then the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\n[01:55.75] Soon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n[02:08.94] Yeah, yo, I lit a boogah up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\n[02:12.55] Binocolurs, scanners, we all listen to jake\n[02:14.68] Ran out of baggies, my mouth is dry\n[02:16.67] Got them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\n[02:19.34] Nah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\n[02:21.87] Holding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\n[02:24.57] You know how it be with the peppermint Clarks, throwing darts at a hoodrat\n[02:28.08] Getting slow neck up in The Bronx\n[02:29.93] That's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\n[02:32.63] I just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\n[02:35.18] Like, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezzle\n[02:37.76] When I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\n[02:40.32] A deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\n[02:42.77] Ever since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\n[02:45.92] This ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\n[02:49.26] Cause you can get scratched like AJ\n[02:51.30] Cuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\n[02:54.27] I have a team of niggas moving my furs\n[03:00.23] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 10 Bricks\n  artist: Raekwon\n  album: Coke Up in da Dollar Bill\n  duration_ms: 151000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\n  start_ms: 1880\n  end_ms: 3730\n- text: I need some of that, (slide through the back)\n  start_ms: 3730\n  end_ms: 5720\n- text: I need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\n  start_ms: 5720\n  end_ms: 7540\n- text: Back of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\n  start_ms: 7540\n  end_ms: 11100\n- text: We got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\n  start_ms: 11100\n  end_ms: 13780\n- text: Fault)\n  start_ms: 13780\n  end_ms: 14670\n- text: Aiyo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\n  start_ms: 14670\n  end_ms: 17820\n- text: But I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\n  start_ms: 17820\n  end_ms: 20330\n- text: Move up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\n  start_ms: 20330\n  end_ms: 23520\n- text: Soldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\n  start_ms: 23520\n  end_ms: 25610\n- text: Flamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\n  start_ms: 25610\n  end_ms: 28790\n- text: So many leeches I just left it and walked\n  start_ms: 28790\n  end_ms: 30610\n- text: My flow wicked, Miami money, moving and riducly\n  start_ms: 30610\n  end_ms: 33530\n- text: Geico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\n  start_ms: 33530\n  end_ms: 36170\n- text: Take baths with white women, lingerie see-through\n  start_ms: 36170\n  end_ms: 39050\n- text: Taking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\n  start_ms: 39050\n  end_ms: 41620\n- text: Selling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\n  start_ms: 41620\n  end_ms: 44120\n- text: Snub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\n  start_ms: 44120\n  end_ms: 46980\n- text: Killed him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\n  start_ms: 46980\n  end_ms: 50190\n- text: They caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\n  start_ms: 50190\n  end_ms: 52200\n- text: Slutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\n  start_ms: 52200\n  end_ms: 55130\n- text: She threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\n  start_ms: 55130\n  end_ms: 57560\n- text: Yup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\n  start_ms: 57560\n  end_ms: 60360\n- text: I know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\n  start_ms: 60360\n  end_ms: 62890\n- text: Gold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, pony\n  start_ms: 62890\n  end_ms: 65730\n- text: Leather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n  start_ms: 65730\n  end_ms: 68080\n- text: Knock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\n  start_ms: 68080\n  end_ms: 70480\n- text: Swing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\n  start_ms: 70480\n  end_ms: 73060\n- text: Specialize in mic rippers, splashes\n  start_ms: 73060\n  end_ms: 75530\n- text: We the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n  start_ms: 75530\n  end_ms: 78530\n- text: Beefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\n  start_ms: 78530\n  end_ms: 81240\n- text: Chase heads up and down the block and kill rats\n  start_ms: 81240\n  end_ms: 83870\n- text: Skilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\n  start_ms: 83870\n  end_ms: 87550\n- text: The shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\n  start_ms: 87550\n  end_ms: 89990\n- text: Four macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\n  start_ms: 89990\n  end_ms: 92580\n- text: Yeah, me and my nigga Arafat\n  start_ms: 92580\n  end_ms: 94830\n- text: Gotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\n  start_ms: 94830\n  end_ms: 97260\n- text: Chef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\n  start_ms: 97260\n  end_ms: 99700\n- text: Telling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\n  start_ms: 99700\n  end_ms: 102670\n- text: Pythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\n  start_ms: 102670\n  end_ms: 105280\n- text: I speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\n  start_ms: 105280\n  end_ms: 107810\n- text: I beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\n  start_ms: 107810\n  end_ms: 110570\n- text: Meanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\n  start_ms: 110570\n  end_ms: 113200\n- text: Then the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\n  start_ms: 113200\n  end_ms: 115750\n- text: Soon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n  start_ms: 115750\n  end_ms: 128940\n- text: Yeah, yo, I lit a boogah up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\n  start_ms: 128940\n  end_ms: 132550\n- text: Binocolurs, scanners, we all listen to jake\n  start_ms: 132550\n  end_ms: 134680\n- text: Ran out of baggies, my mouth is dry\n  start_ms: 134680\n  end_ms: 136670\n- text: Got them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\n  start_ms: 136670\n  end_ms: 139340\n- text: Nah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\n  start_ms: 139340\n  end_ms: 141870\n- text: Holding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\n  start_ms: 141870\n  end_ms: 144570\n- text: You know how it be with the peppermint Clarks, throwing darts at a hoodrat\n  start_ms: 144570\n  end_ms: 148080\n- text: Getting slow neck up in The Bronx\n  start_ms: 148080\n  end_ms: 149930\n- text: That's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\n  start_ms: 149930\n  end_ms: 152630\n- text: I just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\n  start_ms: 152630\n  end_ms: 155180\n- text: Like, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezzle\n  start_ms: 155180\n  end_ms: 157760\n- text: When I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\n  start_ms: 157760\n  end_ms: 160320\n- text: A deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\n  start_ms: 160320\n  end_ms: 162770\n- text: Ever since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\n  start_ms: 162770\n  end_ms: 165920\n- text: This ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\n  start_ms: 165920\n  end_ms: 169260\n- text: Cause you can get scratched like AJ\n  start_ms: 169260\n  end_ms: 171300\n- text: Cuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\n  start_ms: 171300\n  end_ms: 174270\n- text: I have a team of niggas moving my furs\n  start_ms: 174270\n  end_ms: 180230\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 180230\nplain: |-\n  Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\n  I need some of that, (slide through the back)\n  I need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\n  Back of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\n  We got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\n  Fault)\n\n  Aiyo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\n  But I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\n  Move up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\n  Soldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\n  Flamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\n  So many leeches I just left it and walked\n  My flow wicked, Miami money, moving and riducly\n  Geico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\n  Take baths with white women, lingerie see-through\n  Taking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\n  Selling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\n  Snub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\n  Killed him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\n  They caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\n  Slutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\n  She threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\n  Yup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\n  I know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\n  Gold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, pony\n  Leather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n\n  Knock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\n  Swing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\n  Specialize in mic rippers, splashes\n  We the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n\n  Beefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\n  Chase heads up and down the block and kill rats\n  Skilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\n  The shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\n  Four macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\n  Yeah, me and my nigga Arafat\n  Gotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\n  Chef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\n  Telling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\n  Pythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\n  I speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\n  I beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\n  Meanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\n  Then the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\n  Soon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n\n  Yeah, yo, I lit a boogah up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\n  Binocolurs, scanners, we all listen to jake\n  Ran out of baggies, my mouth is dry\n  Got them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\n  Nah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\n  Holding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\n  You know how it be with the peppermint Clarks, throwing darts at a hoodrat\n  Getting slow neck up in The Bronx\n  That's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\n  I just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\n  Like, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezzle\n  When I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\n  A deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\n  Ever since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\n  This ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\n  Cause you can get scratched like AJ\n  Cuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\n  I have a team of niggas moving my furs\n"},{"id":11883682,"name":"Catalina (Dirty)","trackName":"Catalina (Dirty)","artistName":"Raekwon","albumName":"Catalina-10 Bricks CDM","duration":208.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Where is he?\nConcentrate on the job, don't disturb the doctor\n\nYeah, word up\nWho said we ain't the definition of exclusive shit?\nReal rap, you know\nYeah, this is multi expensive rap here, brother\nWord up, time to recreate the power\nYou know what it is, man, nothing but gangsta shit, baby\nLet's go Doc, I need that prescription\nAiyo, aiyo\n\nI grew up on the foul side, nickel bag vile side\nPurple tops, two for fives\nI had seven grams, outside with my eleven mans\nOn the corners with a pocket full of contrabands\nRunning up and down fire escapes, NARCs coming\nJump in the window, let your Nikes fly, hide the flakes\nGuess up in the Hill it was real to me\nWhat a nigga would of did if you steal from me\nAll my life around drug niggas, villains who want millions\nNiggas with them hoodies on, with techs in the building\nMad fiends, bags of green, Gillette razors\nFly neighbors, all live blazers, designer jeans\nThat's why we live, niggas need shit in they crib\nGo broke, you gonna rope you a vic'\nIt's just full-time stragglers, niggas try to take your place\nAnd smile in your face, but still and all backstabbers\n\nI was trying to get home\nLeave a couple mil' to my kids when I'm gone\nNigga, that ain't cologne, it's the smell of this money\nI was trying to get home\nCuz I don't know when my karma gon' catch up\nI don't know when the toilet gon' back up\nAnd put me in some shit, that I can't get out of\n\nCome on, bags of money, trying to stay rich and fly\nKeep it cool, silks and dungarees\nCrew glasses and food, grilled salmon trying to make a move\nThose who knowing they be dapping they dudes\nHow it do, blow a lot of cruise, stay in the cut\nPacing, from here to L.A., and Hawaii and Cuba\nBlew new uzi too, serial numbers is brail\nSo when you rub against it feel all twos\nNow I'm with some special niggas, next level niggas with rubble bezzles\nWho drive Exeleros with jewels\nBrolic boots on, olive Goose, calamari soups and noodles\nThat spell out, ya'll niggas the truth\nWhat it is baby boy, reclining in the big Benz\nLa-Z-Boy, ends uped, lenses on, chips a'hoy\nShipping triple, niggas try to stop the issue\nAnd cock blocked but can't stop the official, what\n\nI was trying to get home\nLeave a couple mil' to my kids when I'm gone\nNigga, that ain't cologne, it's the smell of this money\nI was trying to get home\nCuz I don't know when my karma gon' catch up\nI don't know when the toilet gon' back up\nAnd put me in some shit, that I can't get out of\n\nI was trying to get home\nLeave a couple mil' to my kids when I'm gone\nNigga, that ain't cologne, it's the smell of this money\nI was trying to get home\nCuz I don't know when my karma gon' catch up\nI don't know when the toilet gon' back up\nAnd put me in some shit, that I can't get out of\n\nYeah, for real, man\nWord up, we gon' keep it official\nWe gon' make sure ya'll get that raw shit man, yeah\nCompliments of my niggas, yeah, yeah, Dre\nThis is powerful, baby, we gon' take 'em there, man\nLocomotive, bulletproof fly shit, let's go","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Catalina (Dirty)\n  artist: Raekwon\n  album: Catalina-10 Bricks CDM\n  duration_ms: 208000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Where is he?\n  Concentrate on the job, don't disturb the doctor\n\n  Yeah, word up\n  Who said we ain't the definition of exclusive shit?\n  Real rap, you know\n  Yeah, this is multi expensive rap here, brother\n  Word up, time to recreate the power\n  You know what it is, man, nothing but gangsta shit, baby\n  Let's go Doc, I need that prescription\n  Aiyo, aiyo\n\n  I grew up on the foul side, nickel bag vile side\n  Purple tops, two for fives\n  I had seven grams, outside with my eleven mans\n  On the corners with a pocket full of contrabands\n  Running up and down fire escapes, NARCs coming\n  Jump in the window, let your Nikes fly, hide the flakes\n  Guess up in the Hill it was real to me\n  What a nigga would of did if you steal from me\n  All my life around drug niggas, villains who want millions\n  Niggas with them hoodies on, with techs in the building\n  Mad fiends, bags of green, Gillette razors\n  Fly neighbors, all live blazers, designer jeans\n  That's why we live, niggas need shit in they crib\n  Go broke, you gonna rope you a vic'\n  It's just full-time stragglers, niggas try to take your place\n  And smile in your face, but still and all backstabbers\n\n  I was trying to get home\n  Leave a couple mil' to my kids when I'm gone\n  Nigga, that ain't cologne, it's the smell of this money\n  I was trying to get home\n  Cuz I don't know when my karma gon' catch up\n  I don't know when the toilet gon' back up\n  And put me in some shit, that I can't get out of\n\n  Come on, bags of money, trying to stay rich and fly\n  Keep it cool, silks and dungarees\n  Crew glasses and food, grilled salmon trying to make a move\n  Those who knowing they be dapping they dudes\n  How it do, blow a lot of cruise, stay in the cut\n  Pacing, from here to L.A., and Hawaii and Cuba\n  Blew new uzi too, serial numbers is brail\n  So when you rub against it feel all twos\n  Now I'm with some special niggas, next level niggas with rubble bezzles\n  Who drive Exeleros with jewels\n  Brolic boots on, olive Goose, calamari soups and noodles\n  That spell out, ya'll niggas the truth\n  What it is baby boy, reclining in the big Benz\n  La-Z-Boy, ends uped, lenses on, chips a'hoy\n  Shipping triple, niggas try to stop the issue\n  And cock blocked but can't stop the official, what\n\n  I was trying to get home\n  Leave a couple mil' to my kids when I'm gone\n  Nigga, that ain't cologne, it's the smell of this money\n  I was trying to get home\n  Cuz I don't know when my karma gon' catch up\n  I don't know when the toilet gon' back up\n  And put me in some shit, that I can't get out of\n\n  I was trying to get home\n  Leave a couple mil' to my kids when I'm gone\n  Nigga, that ain't cologne, it's the smell of this money\n  I was trying to get home\n  Cuz I don't know when my karma gon' catch up\n  I don't know when the toilet gon' back up\n  And put me in some shit, that I can't get out of\n\n  Yeah, for real, man\n  Word up, we gon' keep it official\n  We gon' make sure ya'll get that raw shit man, yeah\n  Compliments of my niggas, yeah, yeah, Dre\n  This is powerful, baby, we gon' take 'em there, man\n  Locomotive, bulletproof fly shit, let's go\n"},{"id":11894443,"name":"House Of Flying Daggers (Dirty)","trackName":"House Of Flying Daggers (Dirty)","artistName":"Raekwon","albumName":"Catalina-10 Bricks Cdm","duration":230.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"chinese sample\nInspectah Deck\nHehehehe, nobody is going to save you now\nYeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yo, yo\n\nInspectah Deck\nI pop off like a mobster boss\nAngel hair with the lobster sauce, summertime can't top the scorch\nCheck my hot broad, I dropped the Porsche\nFBI wanna watch the force, trying to lock my source\nWhere I'm from, hear the macs, techs, glocks and fours\nHide the safe, nigga, lock the doors\nNo respect for the cops and laws\nIn the land where your own blood brother still plot for yours\nSeen things that'll drop your jaw\nMy soldiers got dropped in war, see the mural on the project wall?\nWon't stop til I copped them all\nWanna block me? You gots to brawl, tray shots and all\nCuz I ain't on the clock for talk\nThe Spot Rusher, blow down the spot for sure\nStill break off the block with raw, my stock is more\nThe General, watch your board\n\nDeep pockets with the eight on me, sleep with the safe in the wall\nThe cameras on with the make-up and all\nSwap six 45's, twist reefer in the flicks, papi whoadie ride\nBolt his gun off, from know your horse, she lied\nFly criteria, bury me in Africa\nWith whips and spears, and rough diamonds out of Syria\nA true don, only I could do wrong\nRock fitted hats, get crack money and drive a sick blue joint\nRetard-less, I'mma blow regardless\nResume is straight up live, I shank niggas up for larger E's\nAnd speak with the youth in the spot, eat the fresh fruit in the crop\nAll these hip hoppers eat cock\nYou can see me in the street or the yacht\nI'd rather be promoting your block or buying fresh sneakers with gwops\nYo, I'm an ill dude, always been a real dude\nDon't fuck around, I will spill on you and kill you in the field, boo: GZA\nSoldiers in the front, let the heat pump\nTroops on the left, fight to the death\nFam on the right, infrared lights\nWolves in the back, ready to attack, for what\n\nGhostface Killah\nLeather jackets on, rocked up rock stars\nTreacherous bank robbers, the plan gold up, we pop guards\nThe team gotta eat, seeds is hungry, that's why we ain't scared\nTo dump on niggas, our guns is chunky\nUsually we bust niggas down with bats, swell up they joints\nElbow, wrists, they shins get cracked\nWe still humiliate, brutalize, Ruger pop, pulverize\nStill got gear in the closet, that's stupid live\nFrom Benetton rugby skullies, Oshkosh conductor jumpers\nThe train hats fit me lovely\nRae job is to make sure the coke is fluffy\nWhile I politic his birthday bash with Puffy\nBagged Nia soon as I linked up, the kid ain't inked up\nI'm an old mummy, my gold weigh as much as King Tut (yeah, yeah)\nSlippers, robes is minked up, under the doorag, bro (uh, yo, yo)\nMy three dimensional fade is clean cut\n\nMethod Man\nMan, ya niggas ain't shit to us, still a pistol bust\nSplit your melon like I split the Dutch\nGot a lot of piff to puff, and I ain't come for fisticuffs\nOr for the cop that wanna clip the cuffs\nMan, is Staten in this bitch or what, don't get it twisted, we\nTwist it up and even mixed with dust\nSee these fans can't resist the rush, they Wu-Tang for life\nScarred for life, they can't forget the cuts\nGot a whole line of classic joints, and while you at it\nPass the joint, let's push this music past the point\nOf no return, til they crash and burn, down the ashes\nThen placed inside Ol' Dirty Bastard's urn\nWhen it's my time to go, for sure, ya nigga goes to war\nWhat you think I brought these soldiers for?\nTo send shot like forget me not, at any nigga\nRespect, bitch, that figure they gon' get me got\n\nChinese Sample\nHehe, your basic kung fu is no good\nYou can't move fast enough\nAnd you don't have enough strength\nAnd your body movements are like a string climb\nIt's too easy for me to trip you up\n(fighting)\nHehehe, how's it feel, huh?\nIt's no fair, I'm afraid my back is broken\nHahaha, you still got a lot to learn","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: House Of Flying Daggers (Dirty)\n  artist: Raekwon\n  album: Catalina-10 Bricks Cdm\n  duration_ms: 230000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  chinese sample\n  Inspectah Deck\n  Hehehehe, nobody is going to save you now\n  Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yo, yo\n\n  Inspectah Deck\n  I pop off like a mobster boss\n  Angel hair with the lobster sauce, summertime can't top the scorch\n  Check my hot broad, I dropped the Porsche\n  FBI wanna watch the force, trying to lock my source\n  Where I'm from, hear the macs, techs, glocks and fours\n  Hide the safe, nigga, lock the doors\n  No respect for the cops and laws\n  In the land where your own blood brother still plot for yours\n  Seen things that'll drop your jaw\n  My soldiers got dropped in war, see the mural on the project wall?\n  Won't stop til I copped them all\n  Wanna block me? You gots to brawl, tray shots and all\n  Cuz I ain't on the clock for talk\n  The Spot Rusher, blow down the spot for sure\n  Still break off the block with raw, my stock is more\n  The General, watch your board\n\n  Deep pockets with the eight on me, sleep with the safe in the wall\n  The cameras on with the make-up and all\n  Swap six 45's, twist reefer in the flicks, papi whoadie ride\n  Bolt his gun off, from know your horse, she lied\n  Fly criteria, bury me in Africa\n  With whips and spears, and rough diamonds out of Syria\n  A true don, only I could do wrong\n  Rock fitted hats, get crack money and drive a sick blue joint\n  Retard-less, I'mma blow regardless\n  Resume is straight up live, I shank niggas up for larger E's\n  And speak with the youth in the spot, eat the fresh fruit in the crop\n  All these hip hoppers eat cock\n  You can see me in the street or the yacht\n  I'd rather be promoting your block or buying fresh sneakers with gwops\n  Yo, I'm an ill dude, always been a real dude\n  Don't fuck around, I will spill on you and kill you in the field, boo: GZA\n  Soldiers in the front, let the heat pump\n  Troops on the left, fight to the death\n  Fam on the right, infrared lights\n  Wolves in the back, ready to attack, for what\n\n  Ghostface Killah\n  Leather jackets on, rocked up rock stars\n  Treacherous bank robbers, the plan gold up, we pop guards\n  The team gotta eat, seeds is hungry, that's why we ain't scared\n  To dump on niggas, our guns is chunky\n  Usually we bust niggas down with bats, swell up they joints\n  Elbow, wrists, they shins get cracked\n  We still humiliate, brutalize, Ruger pop, pulverize\n  Still got gear in the closet, that's stupid live\n  From Benetton rugby skullies, Oshkosh conductor jumpers\n  The train hats fit me lovely\n  Rae job is to make sure the coke is fluffy\n  While I politic his birthday bash with Puffy\n  Bagged Nia soon as I linked up, the kid ain't inked up\n  I'm an old mummy, my gold weigh as much as King Tut (yeah, yeah)\n  Slippers, robes is minked up, under the doorag, bro (uh, yo, yo)\n  My three dimensional fade is clean cut\n\n  Method Man\n  Man, ya niggas ain't shit to us, still a pistol bust\n  Split your melon like I split the Dutch\n  Got a lot of piff to puff, and I ain't come for fisticuffs\n  Or for the cop that wanna clip the cuffs\n  Man, is Staten in this bitch or what, don't get it twisted, we\n  Twist it up and even mixed with dust\n  See these fans can't resist the rush, they Wu-Tang for life\n  Scarred for life, they can't forget the cuts\n  Got a whole line of classic joints, and while you at it\n  Pass the joint, let's push this music past the point\n  Of no return, til they crash and burn, down the ashes\n  Then placed inside Ol' Dirty Bastard's urn\n  When it's my time to go, for sure, ya nigga goes to war\n  What you think I brought these soldiers for?\n  To send shot like forget me not, at any nigga\n  Respect, bitch, that figure they gon' get me got\n\n  Chinese Sample\n  Hehe, your basic kung fu is no good\n  You can't move fast enough\n  And you don't have enough strength\n  And your body movements are like a string climb\n  It's too easy for me to trip you up\n  (fighting)\n  Hehehe, how's it feel, huh?\n  It's no fair, I'm afraid my back is broken\n  Hahaha, you still got a lot to learn\n"},{"id":11883681,"name":"Catalina (Clean)","trackName":"Catalina (Clean)","artistName":"Raekwon","albumName":"Catalina-10 Bricks CDM","duration":208.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Where is he?\nConcentrate on the job, don't disturb the doctor\n\nYeah, word up\nWho said we ain't the definition of exclusive shit?\nReal rap, you know\nYeah, this is multi expensive rap here, brother\nWord up, time to recreate the power\nYou know what it is, man, nothing but gangsta shit, baby\nLet's go Doc, I need that prescription\nAiyo, aiyo\n\nI grew up on the foul side, nickel bag vile side\nPurple tops, two for fives\nI had seven grams, outside with my eleven mans\nOn the corners with a pocket full of contrabands\nRunning up and down fire escapes, NARCs coming\nJump in the window, let your Nikes fly, hide the flakes\nGuess up in the Hill it was real to me\nWhat a nigga would of did if you steal from me\nAll my life around drug niggas, villains who want millions\nNiggas with them hoodies on, with techs in the building\nMad fiends, bags of green, Gillette razors\nFly neighbors, all live blazers, designer jeans\nThat's why we live, niggas need shit in they crib\nGo broke, you gonna rope you a vic'\nIt's just full-time stragglers, niggas try to take your place\nAnd smile in your face, but still and all backstabbers\n\nI was trying to get home\nLeave a couple mil' to my kids when I'm gone\nNigga, that ain't cologne, it's the smell of this money\nI was trying to get home\nCuz I don't know when my karma gon' catch up\nI don't know when the toilet gon' back up\nAnd put me in some shit, that I can't get out of\n\nCome on, bags of money, trying to stay rich and fly\nKeep it cool, silks and dungarees\nCrew glasses and food, grilled salmon trying to make a move\nThose who knowing they be dapping they dudes\nHow it do, blow a lot of cruise, stay in the cut\nPacing, from here to L.A., and Hawaii and Cuba\nBlew new uzi too, serial numbers is brail\nSo when you rub against it feel all twos\nNow I'm with some special niggas, next level niggas with rubble bezzles\nWho drive Exeleros with jewels\nBrolic boots on, olive Goose, calamari soups and noodles\nThat spell out, ya'll niggas the truth\nWhat it is baby boy, reclining in the big Benz\nLa-Z-Boy, ends uped, lenses on, chips a'hoy\nShipping triple, niggas try to stop the issue\nAnd cock blocked but can't stop the official, what\n\nI was trying to get home\nLeave a couple mil' to my kids when I'm gone\nNigga, that ain't cologne, it's the smell of this money\nI was trying to get home\nCuz I don't know when my karma gon' catch up\nI don't know when the toilet gon' back up\nAnd put me in some shit, that I can't get out of\n\nI was trying to get home\nLeave a couple mil' to my kids when I'm gone\nNigga, that ain't cologne, it's the smell of this money\nI was trying to get home\nCuz I don't know when my karma gon' catch up\nI don't know when the toilet gon' back up\nAnd put me in some shit, that I can't get out of\n\nYeah, for real, man\nWord up, we gon' keep it official\nWe gon' make sure ya'll get that raw shit man, yeah\nCompliments of my niggas, yeah, yeah, Dre\nThis is powerful, baby, we gon' take 'em there, man\nLocomotive, bulletproof fly shit, let's go","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Catalina (Clean)\n  artist: Raekwon\n  album: Catalina-10 Bricks CDM\n  duration_ms: 208000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Where is he?\n  Concentrate on the job, don't disturb the doctor\n\n  Yeah, word up\n  Who said we ain't the definition of exclusive shit?\n  Real rap, you know\n  Yeah, this is multi expensive rap here, brother\n  Word up, time to recreate the power\n  You know what it is, man, nothing but gangsta shit, baby\n  Let's go Doc, I need that prescription\n  Aiyo, aiyo\n\n  I grew up on the foul side, nickel bag vile side\n  Purple tops, two for fives\n  I had seven grams, outside with my eleven mans\n  On the corners with a pocket full of contrabands\n  Running up and down fire escapes, NARCs coming\n  Jump in the window, let your Nikes fly, hide the flakes\n  Guess up in the Hill it was real to me\n  What a nigga would of did if you steal from me\n  All my life around drug niggas, villains who want millions\n  Niggas with them hoodies on, with techs in the building\n  Mad fiends, bags of green, Gillette razors\n  Fly neighbors, all live blazers, designer jeans\n  That's why we live, niggas need shit in they crib\n  Go broke, you gonna rope you a vic'\n  It's just full-time stragglers, niggas try to take your place\n  And smile in your face, but still and all backstabbers\n\n  I was trying to get home\n  Leave a couple mil' to my kids when I'm gone\n  Nigga, that ain't cologne, it's the smell of this money\n  I was trying to get home\n  Cuz I don't know when my karma gon' catch up\n  I don't know when the toilet gon' back up\n  And put me in some shit, that I can't get out of\n\n  Come on, bags of money, trying to stay rich and fly\n  Keep it cool, silks and dungarees\n  Crew glasses and food, grilled salmon trying to make a move\n  Those who knowing they be dapping they dudes\n  How it do, blow a lot of cruise, stay in the cut\n  Pacing, from here to L.A., and Hawaii and Cuba\n  Blew new uzi too, serial numbers is brail\n  So when you rub against it feel all twos\n  Now I'm with some special niggas, next level niggas with rubble bezzles\n  Who drive Exeleros with jewels\n  Brolic boots on, olive Goose, calamari soups and noodles\n  That spell out, ya'll niggas the truth\n  What it is baby boy, reclining in the big Benz\n  La-Z-Boy, ends uped, lenses on, chips a'hoy\n  Shipping triple, niggas try to stop the issue\n  And cock blocked but can't stop the official, what\n\n  I was trying to get home\n  Leave a couple mil' to my kids when I'm gone\n  Nigga, that ain't cologne, it's the smell of this money\n  I was trying to get home\n  Cuz I don't know when my karma gon' catch up\n  I don't know when the toilet gon' back up\n  And put me in some shit, that I can't get out of\n\n  I was trying to get home\n  Leave a couple mil' to my kids when I'm gone\n  Nigga, that ain't cologne, it's the smell of this money\n  I was trying to get home\n  Cuz I don't know when my karma gon' catch up\n  I don't know when the toilet gon' back up\n  And put me in some shit, that I can't get out of\n\n  Yeah, for real, man\n  Word up, we gon' keep it official\n  We gon' make sure ya'll get that raw shit man, yeah\n  Compliments of my niggas, yeah, yeah, Dre\n  This is powerful, baby, we gon' take 'em there, man\n  Locomotive, bulletproof fly shit, let's go\n"},{"id":11894442,"name":"House Of Flying Daggers (Clean)","trackName":"House Of Flying Daggers (Clean)","artistName":"Raekwon","albumName":"Catalina-10 Bricks Cdm","duration":230.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"chinese sample\nInspectah Deck\nHehehehe, nobody is going to save you now\nYeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yo, yo\n\nInspectah Deck\nI pop off like a mobster boss\nAngel hair with the lobster sauce, summertime can't top the scorch\nCheck my hot broad, I dropped the Porsche\nFBI wanna watch the force, trying to lock my source\nWhere I'm from, hear the macs, techs, glocks and fours\nHide the safe, nigga, lock the doors\nNo respect for the cops and laws\nIn the land where your own blood brother still plot for yours\nSeen things that'll drop your jaw\nMy soldiers got dropped in war, see the mural on the project wall?\nWon't stop til I copped them all\nWanna block me? You gots to brawl, tray shots and all\nCuz I ain't on the clock for talk\nThe Spot Rusher, blow down the spot for sure\nStill break off the block with raw, my stock is more\nThe General, watch your board\n\nDeep pockets with the eight on me, sleep with the safe in the wall\nThe cameras on with the make-up and all\nSwap six 45's, twist reefer in the flicks, papi whoadie ride\nBolt his gun off, from know your horse, she lied\nFly criteria, bury me in Africa\nWith whips and spears, and rough diamonds out of Syria\nA true don, only I could do wrong\nRock fitted hats, get crack money and drive a sick blue joint\nRetard-less, I'mma blow regardless\nResume is straight up live, I shank niggas up for larger E's\nAnd speak with the youth in the spot, eat the fresh fruit in the crop\nAll these hip hoppers eat cock\nYou can see me in the street or the yacht\nI'd rather be promoting your block or buying fresh sneakers with gwops\nYo, I'm an ill dude, always been a real dude\nDon't fuck around, I will spill on you and kill you in the field, boo: GZA\nSoldiers in the front, let the heat pump\nTroops on the left, fight to the death\nFam on the right, infrared lights\nWolves in the back, ready to attack, for what\n\nGhostface Killah\nLeather jackets on, rocked up rock stars\nTreacherous bank robbers, the plan gold up, we pop guards\nThe team gotta eat, seeds is hungry, that's why we ain't scared\nTo dump on niggas, our guns is chunky\nUsually we bust niggas down with bats, swell up they joints\nElbow, wrists, they shins get cracked\nWe still humiliate, brutalize, Ruger pop, pulverize\nStill got gear in the closet, that's stupid live\nFrom Benetton rugby skullies, Oshkosh conductor jumpers\nThe train hats fit me lovely\nRae job is to make sure the coke is fluffy\nWhile I politic his birthday bash with Puffy\nBagged Nia soon as I linked up, the kid ain't inked up\nI'm an old mummy, my gold weigh as much as King Tut (yeah, yeah)\nSlippers, robes is minked up, under the doorag, bro (uh, yo, yo)\nMy three dimensional fade is clean cut\n\nMethod Man\nMan, ya niggas ain't shit to us, still a pistol bust\nSplit your melon like I split the Dutch\nGot a lot of piff to puff, and I ain't come for fisticuffs\nOr for the cop that wanna clip the cuffs\nMan, is Staten in this bitch or what, don't get it twisted, we\nTwist it up and even mixed with dust\nSee these fans can't resist the rush, they Wu-Tang for life\nScarred for life, they can't forget the cuts\nGot a whole line of classic joints, and while you at it\nPass the joint, let's push this music past the point\nOf no return, til they crash and burn, down the ashes\nThen placed inside Ol' Dirty Bastard's urn\nWhen it's my time to go, for sure, ya nigga goes to war\nWhat you think I brought these soldiers for?\nTo send shot like forget me not, at any nigga\nRespect, bitch, that figure they gon' get me got\n\nChinese Sample\nHehe, your basic kung fu is no good\nYou can't move fast enough\nAnd you don't have enough strength\nAnd your body movements are like a string climb\nIt's too easy for me to trip you up\n(fighting)\nHehehe, how's it feel, huh?\nIt's no fair, I'm afraid my back is broken\nHahaha, you still got a lot to learn","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: House Of Flying Daggers (Clean)\n  artist: Raekwon\n  album: Catalina-10 Bricks Cdm\n  duration_ms: 230000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  chinese sample\n  Inspectah Deck\n  Hehehehe, nobody is going to save you now\n  Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yo, yo\n\n  Inspectah Deck\n  I pop off like a mobster boss\n  Angel hair with the lobster sauce, summertime can't top the scorch\n  Check my hot broad, I dropped the Porsche\n  FBI wanna watch the force, trying to lock my source\n  Where I'm from, hear the macs, techs, glocks and fours\n  Hide the safe, nigga, lock the doors\n  No respect for the cops and laws\n  In the land where your own blood brother still plot for yours\n  Seen things that'll drop your jaw\n  My soldiers got dropped in war, see the mural on the project wall?\n  Won't stop til I copped them all\n  Wanna block me? You gots to brawl, tray shots and all\n  Cuz I ain't on the clock for talk\n  The Spot Rusher, blow down the spot for sure\n  Still break off the block with raw, my stock is more\n  The General, watch your board\n\n  Deep pockets with the eight on me, sleep with the safe in the wall\n  The cameras on with the make-up and all\n  Swap six 45's, twist reefer in the flicks, papi whoadie ride\n  Bolt his gun off, from know your horse, she lied\n  Fly criteria, bury me in Africa\n  With whips and spears, and rough diamonds out of Syria\n  A true don, only I could do wrong\n  Rock fitted hats, get crack money and drive a sick blue joint\n  Retard-less, I'mma blow regardless\n  Resume is straight up live, I shank niggas up for larger E's\n  And speak with the youth in the spot, eat the fresh fruit in the crop\n  All these hip hoppers eat cock\n  You can see me in the street or the yacht\n  I'd rather be promoting your block or buying fresh sneakers with gwops\n  Yo, I'm an ill dude, always been a real dude\n  Don't fuck around, I will spill on you and kill you in the field, boo: GZA\n  Soldiers in the front, let the heat pump\n  Troops on the left, fight to the death\n  Fam on the right, infrared lights\n  Wolves in the back, ready to attack, for what\n\n  Ghostface Killah\n  Leather jackets on, rocked up rock stars\n  Treacherous bank robbers, the plan gold up, we pop guards\n  The team gotta eat, seeds is hungry, that's why we ain't scared\n  To dump on niggas, our guns is chunky\n  Usually we bust niggas down with bats, swell up they joints\n  Elbow, wrists, they shins get cracked\n  We still humiliate, brutalize, Ruger pop, pulverize\n  Still got gear in the closet, that's stupid live\n  From Benetton rugby skullies, Oshkosh conductor jumpers\n  The train hats fit me lovely\n  Rae job is to make sure the coke is fluffy\n  While I politic his birthday bash with Puffy\n  Bagged Nia soon as I linked up, the kid ain't inked up\n  I'm an old mummy, my gold weigh as much as King Tut (yeah, yeah)\n  Slippers, robes is minked up, under the doorag, bro (uh, yo, yo)\n  My three dimensional fade is clean cut\n\n  Method Man\n  Man, ya niggas ain't shit to us, still a pistol bust\n  Split your melon like I split the Dutch\n  Got a lot of piff to puff, and I ain't come for fisticuffs\n  Or for the cop that wanna clip the cuffs\n  Man, is Staten in this bitch or what, don't get it twisted, we\n  Twist it up and even mixed with dust\n  See these fans can't resist the rush, they Wu-Tang for life\n  Scarred for life, they can't forget the cuts\n  Got a whole line of classic joints, and while you at it\n  Pass the joint, let's push this music past the point\n  Of no return, til they crash and burn, down the ashes\n  Then placed inside Ol' Dirty Bastard's urn\n  When it's my time to go, for sure, ya nigga goes to war\n  What you think I brought these soldiers for?\n  To send shot like forget me not, at any nigga\n  Respect, bitch, that figure they gon' get me got\n\n  Chinese Sample\n  Hehe, your basic kung fu is no good\n  You can't move fast enough\n  And you don't have enough strength\n  And your body movements are like a string climb\n  It's too easy for me to trip you up\n  (fighting)\n  Hehehe, how's it feel, huh?\n  It's no fair, I'm afraid my back is broken\n  Hahaha, you still got a lot to learn\n"},{"id":15103439,"name":"10 Bricks Ft Cappadonna Ghostface","trackName":"10 Bricks Ft Cappadonna Ghostface","artistName":"Raekwon/Raekwon","albumName":"Top 1000 Greatest Hip-Hop & Rap Songs","duration":197.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\nI need some of that, (slide through the back)\nI need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\nBack of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\nWe got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\nfault)\n\nAyo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\nBut I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\nMove up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\nSoldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\nFlamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\nSo many leeches I just left it and walked\nMy flow wicked, Miami money, moving and ridicly\nGeico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\nTake baths with white women, lingerie see-through\nTaking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\nSelling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\nSnub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\nKilled him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\nThey caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\nSlutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\nShe threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\nYup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\nI know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\nGold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, Pony\nLeather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n\nKnock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\nSwing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\nSpecialize in mic rippers, splashes\nWe the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n\nBeefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\nChase heads up and down the block and kill rats\nSkilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\nThe shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\nFour macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\nYeah, me and my nigga Arafat\nGotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\nChef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\nTelling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\nPythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\nI speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\nI beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\nMeanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\nThen the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\nSoon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n\nYo, I lit a booger up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\nBinoculars, scanners, we all listen to jake\nRan out of baggies, my mouth is dry\nGot them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\nNah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\nHolding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\nYou know how it be with the peppermint Clarks\nThrowing darts at a hoodrat\nGetting slow necked all up in The Bronx\nThat's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\nI just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\nLike, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezel\nWhen I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\nA deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\nEver since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\nThis ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\nCuz you can get scratched like AJ\nCuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\nI have a team of niggas moving my furs","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 10 Bricks Ft Cappadonna Ghostface\n  artist: Raekwon/Raekwon\n  album: Top 1000 Greatest Hip-Hop & Rap Songs\n  duration_ms: 197000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\n  I need some of that, (slide through the back)\n  I need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\n  Back of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\n  We got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\n  fault)\n\n  Ayo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\n  But I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\n  Move up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\n  Soldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\n  Flamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\n  So many leeches I just left it and walked\n  My flow wicked, Miami money, moving and ridicly\n  Geico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\n  Take baths with white women, lingerie see-through\n  Taking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\n  Selling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\n  Snub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\n  Killed him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\n  They caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\n  Slutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\n  She threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\n  Yup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\n  I know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\n  Gold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, Pony\n  Leather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n\n  Knock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\n  Swing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\n  Specialize in mic rippers, splashes\n  We the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n\n  Beefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\n  Chase heads up and down the block and kill rats\n  Skilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\n  The shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\n  Four macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\n  Yeah, me and my nigga Arafat\n  Gotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\n  Chef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\n  Telling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\n  Pythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\n  I speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\n  I beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\n  Meanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\n  Then the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\n  Soon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n\n  Yo, I lit a booger up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\n  Binoculars, scanners, we all listen to jake\n  Ran out of baggies, my mouth is dry\n  Got them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\n  Nah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\n  Holding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\n  You know how it be with the peppermint Clarks\n  Throwing darts at a hoodrat\n  Getting slow necked all up in The Bronx\n  That's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\n  I just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\n  Like, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezel\n  When I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\n  A deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\n  Ever since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\n  This ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\n  Cuz you can get scratched like AJ\n  Cuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\n  I have a team of niggas moving my furs\n"},{"id":29491878,"name":"10 Bricks","trackName":"10 Bricks","artistName":"Raekwon; Cappadonna; Ghostface Killah","albumName":"Only Built 4 Cuban Linx 2","duration":197.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\nI need some of that, (slide through the back)\nI need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\nBack of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\nWe got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\nfault)\n\nAyo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\nBut I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\nMove up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\nSoldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\nFlamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\nSo many leeches I just left it and walked\nMy flow wicked, Miami money, moving and ridicly\nGeico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\nTake baths with white women, lingerie see-through\nTaking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\nSelling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\nSnub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\nKilled him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\nThey caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\nSlutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\nShe threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\nYup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\nI know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\nGold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, Pony\nLeather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n\nKnock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\nSwing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\nSpecialize in mic rippers, splashes\nWe the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n\nBeefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\nChase heads up and down the block and kill rats\nSkilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\nThe shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\nFour macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\nYeah, me and my nigga Arafat\nGotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\nChef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\nTelling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\nPythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\nI speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\nI beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\nMeanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\nThen the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\nSoon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n\nYo, I lit a booger up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\nBinoculars, scanners, we all listen to jake\nRan out of baggies, my mouth is dry\nGot them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\nNah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\nHolding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\nYou know how it be with the peppermint Clarks\nThrowing darts at a hoodrat\nGetting slow necked all up in The Bronx\nThat's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\nI just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\nLike, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezel\nWhen I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\nA deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\nEver since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\nThis ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\nCuz you can get scratched like AJ\nCuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\nI have a team of niggas moving my furs","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 10 Bricks\n  artist: Raekwon; Cappadonna; Ghostface Killah\n  album: Only Built 4 Cuban Linx 2\n  duration_ms: 197000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\n  I need some of that, (slide through the back)\n  I need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\n  Back of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\n  We got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\n  fault)\n\n  Ayo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\n  But I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\n  Move up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\n  Soldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\n  Flamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\n  So many leeches I just left it and walked\n  My flow wicked, Miami money, moving and ridicly\n  Geico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\n  Take baths with white women, lingerie see-through\n  Taking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\n  Selling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\n  Snub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\n  Killed him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\n  They caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\n  Slutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\n  She threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\n  Yup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\n  I know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\n  Gold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, Pony\n  Leather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n\n  Knock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\n  Swing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\n  Specialize in mic rippers, splashes\n  We the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n\n  Beefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\n  Chase heads up and down the block and kill rats\n  Skilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\n  The shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\n  Four macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\n  Yeah, me and my nigga Arafat\n  Gotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\n  Chef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\n  Telling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\n  Pythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\n  I speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\n  I beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\n  Meanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\n  Then the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\n  Soon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n\n  Yo, I lit a booger up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\n  Binoculars, scanners, we all listen to jake\n  Ran out of baggies, my mouth is dry\n  Got them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\n  Nah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\n  Holding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\n  You know how it be with the peppermint Clarks\n  Throwing darts at a hoodrat\n  Getting slow necked all up in The Bronx\n  That's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\n  I just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\n  Like, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezel\n  When I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\n  A deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\n  Ever since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\n  This ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\n  Cuz you can get scratched like AJ\n  Cuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\n  I have a team of niggas moving my furs\n"},{"id":32151771,"name":"10 Bricks","trackName":"10 Bricks","artistName":"Raekwon Ft. Cappadonna & Ghostface","albumName":"Only Built 4 Cuban Linx PT II","duration":197.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\nI need some of that, (slide through the back)\nI need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\nBack of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\nWe got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\nfault)\n\nAyo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\nBut I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\nMove up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\nSoldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\nFlamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\nSo many leeches I just left it and walked\nMy flow wicked, Miami money, moving and ridicly\nGeico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\nTake baths with white women, lingerie see-through\nTaking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\nSelling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\nSnub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\nKilled him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\nThey caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\nSlutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\nShe threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\nYup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\nI know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\nGold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, Pony\nLeather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n\nKnock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\nSwing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\nSpecialize in mic rippers, splashes\nWe the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n\nBeefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\nChase heads up and down the block and kill rats\nSkilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\nThe shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\nFour macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\nYeah, me and my nigga Arafat\nGotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\nChef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\nTelling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\nPythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\nI speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\nI beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\nMeanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\nThen the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\nSoon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n\nYo, I lit a booger up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\nBinoculars, scanners, we all listen to jake\nRan out of baggies, my mouth is dry\nGot them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\nNah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\nHolding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\nYou know how it be with the peppermint Clarks\nThrowing darts at a hoodrat\nGetting slow necked all up in The Bronx\nThat's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\nI just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\nLike, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezel\nWhen I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\nA deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\nEver since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\nThis ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\nCuz you can get scratched like AJ\nCuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\nI have a team of niggas moving my furs","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.64] Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\n[00:02.79] I need some of that, (slide through the back)\n[00:04.51] I need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\n[00:06.85] Back of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\n[00:09.52] We got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\n[00:12.72] fault)\n[00:14.46] Ayo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\n[00:17.47] But I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\n[00:19.96] Move up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\n[00:22.71] Soldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\n[00:24.87] Flamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\n[00:27.73] So many leeches I just left it and walked\n[00:30.60] My flow wicked, Miami money, moving and ridicly\n[00:33.34] Geico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\n[00:35.53] Take baths with white women, lingerie see-through\n[00:38.68] Taking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\n[00:41.59] Selling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\n[00:43.91] Snub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\n[00:46.72] Killed him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\n[00:50.13] They caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\n[00:52.02] Slutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\n[00:54.50] She threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\n[00:56.99] Yup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\n[00:59.86] I know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\n[01:02.66] Gold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, Pony\n[01:05.74] Leather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n[01:07.32] Knock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\n[01:10.27] Swing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\n[01:13.12] Specialize in mic rippers, splashes\n[01:15.52] We the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n[01:18.44] Beefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\n[01:21.04] Chase heads up and down the block and kill rats\n[01:23.51] Skilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\n[01:27.15] The shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\n[01:29.59] Four macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\n[01:32.33] Yeah, me and my nigga Arafat\n[01:34.46] Gotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\n[01:37.16] Chef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\n[01:39.49] Telling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\n[01:42.23] Pythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\n[01:45.16] I speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\n[01:47.47] I beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\n[01:50.46] Meanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\n[01:52.57] Then the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\n[01:55.41] Soon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n[02:07.78] Yo, I lit a booger up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\n[02:12.13] Binoculars, scanners, we all listen to jake\n[02:14.30] Ran out of baggies, my mouth is dry\n[02:16.38] Got them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\n[02:19.15] Nah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\n[02:21.42] Holding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\n[02:24.21] You know how it be with the peppermint Clarks\n[02:26.26] Throwing darts at a hoodrat\n[02:28.12] Getting slow necked all up in The Bronx\n[02:29.48] That's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\n[02:32.31] I just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\n[02:34.57] Like, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezel\n[02:37.48] When I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\n[02:40.30] A deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\n[02:42.58] Ever since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\n[02:45.51] This ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\n[02:48.94] Cuz you can get scratched like AJ\n[02:50.92] Cuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\n[02:54.01] I have a team of niggas moving my furs\n[02:56.29] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 10 Bricks\n  artist: Raekwon Ft. Cappadonna & Ghostface\n  album: Only Built 4 Cuban Linx PT II\n  duration_ms: 197000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\n  start_ms: 640\n  end_ms: 2790\n- text: I need some of that, (slide through the back)\n  start_ms: 2790\n  end_ms: 4510\n- text: I need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\n  start_ms: 4510\n  end_ms: 6850\n- text: Back of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\n  start_ms: 6850\n  end_ms: 9520\n- text: We got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\n  start_ms: 9520\n  end_ms: 12720\n- text: fault)\n  start_ms: 12720\n  end_ms: 14460\n- text: Ayo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\n  start_ms: 14460\n  end_ms: 17470\n- text: But I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\n  start_ms: 17470\n  end_ms: 19960\n- text: Move up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\n  start_ms: 19960\n  end_ms: 22710\n- text: Soldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\n  start_ms: 22710\n  end_ms: 24870\n- text: Flamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\n  start_ms: 24870\n  end_ms: 27730\n- text: So many leeches I just left it and walked\n  start_ms: 27730\n  end_ms: 30600\n- text: My flow wicked, Miami money, moving and ridicly\n  start_ms: 30600\n  end_ms: 33340\n- text: Geico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\n  start_ms: 33340\n  end_ms: 35530\n- text: Take baths with white women, lingerie see-through\n  start_ms: 35530\n  end_ms: 38680\n- text: Taking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\n  start_ms: 38680\n  end_ms: 41590\n- text: Selling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\n  start_ms: 41590\n  end_ms: 43910\n- text: Snub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\n  start_ms: 43910\n  end_ms: 46720\n- text: Killed him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\n  start_ms: 46720\n  end_ms: 50130\n- text: They caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\n  start_ms: 50130\n  end_ms: 52020\n- text: Slutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\n  start_ms: 52020\n  end_ms: 54500\n- text: She threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\n  start_ms: 54500\n  end_ms: 56990\n- text: Yup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\n  start_ms: 56990\n  end_ms: 59860\n- text: I know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\n  start_ms: 59860\n  end_ms: 62660\n- text: Gold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, Pony\n  start_ms: 62660\n  end_ms: 65740\n- text: Leather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n  start_ms: 65740\n  end_ms: 67320\n- text: Knock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\n  start_ms: 67320\n  end_ms: 70270\n- text: Swing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\n  start_ms: 70270\n  end_ms: 73120\n- text: Specialize in mic rippers, splashes\n  start_ms: 73120\n  end_ms: 75520\n- text: We the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n  start_ms: 75520\n  end_ms: 78440\n- text: Beefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\n  start_ms: 78440\n  end_ms: 81040\n- text: Chase heads up and down the block and kill rats\n  start_ms: 81040\n  end_ms: 83510\n- text: Skilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\n  start_ms: 83510\n  end_ms: 87150\n- text: The shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\n  start_ms: 87150\n  end_ms: 89590\n- text: Four macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\n  start_ms: 89590\n  end_ms: 92330\n- text: Yeah, me and my nigga Arafat\n  start_ms: 92330\n  end_ms: 94460\n- text: Gotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\n  start_ms: 94460\n  end_ms: 97160\n- text: Chef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\n  start_ms: 97160\n  end_ms: 99490\n- text: Telling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\n  start_ms: 99490\n  end_ms: 102230\n- text: Pythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\n  start_ms: 102230\n  end_ms: 105160\n- text: I speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\n  start_ms: 105160\n  end_ms: 107470\n- text: I beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\n  start_ms: 107470\n  end_ms: 110460\n- text: Meanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\n  start_ms: 110460\n  end_ms: 112570\n- text: Then the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\n  start_ms: 112570\n  end_ms: 115410\n- text: Soon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n  start_ms: 115410\n  end_ms: 127780\n- text: Yo, I lit a booger up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\n  start_ms: 127780\n  end_ms: 132130\n- text: Binoculars, scanners, we all listen to jake\n  start_ms: 132130\n  end_ms: 134300\n- text: Ran out of baggies, my mouth is dry\n  start_ms: 134300\n  end_ms: 136380\n- text: Got them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\n  start_ms: 136380\n  end_ms: 139150\n- text: Nah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\n  start_ms: 139150\n  end_ms: 141420\n- text: Holding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\n  start_ms: 141420\n  end_ms: 144210\n- text: You know how it be with the peppermint Clarks\n  start_ms: 144210\n  end_ms: 146260\n- text: Throwing darts at a hoodrat\n  start_ms: 146260\n  end_ms: 148120\n- text: Getting slow necked all up in The Bronx\n  start_ms: 148120\n  end_ms: 149480\n- text: That's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\n  start_ms: 149480\n  end_ms: 152310\n- text: I just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\n  start_ms: 152310\n  end_ms: 154570\n- text: Like, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezel\n  start_ms: 154570\n  end_ms: 157480\n- text: When I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\n  start_ms: 157480\n  end_ms: 160300\n- text: A deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\n  start_ms: 160300\n  end_ms: 162580\n- text: Ever since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\n  start_ms: 162580\n  end_ms: 165510\n- text: This ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\n  start_ms: 165510\n  end_ms: 168940\n- text: Cuz you can get scratched like AJ\n  start_ms: 168940\n  end_ms: 170920\n- text: Cuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\n  start_ms: 170920\n  end_ms: 174010\n- text: I have a team of niggas moving my furs\n  start_ms: 174010\n  end_ms: 176290\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 176290\nplain: |-\n  Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\n  I need some of that, (slide through the back)\n  I need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\n  Back of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\n  We got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\n  fault)\n\n  Ayo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\n  But I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\n  Move up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\n  Soldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\n  Flamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\n  So many leeches I just left it and walked\n  My flow wicked, Miami money, moving and ridicly\n  Geico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\n  Take baths with white women, lingerie see-through\n  Taking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\n  Selling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\n  Snub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\n  Killed him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\n  They caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\n  Slutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\n  She threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\n  Yup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\n  I know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\n  Gold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, Pony\n  Leather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n\n  Knock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\n  Swing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\n  Specialize in mic rippers, splashes\n  We the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n\n  Beefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\n  Chase heads up and down the block and kill rats\n  Skilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\n  The shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\n  Four macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\n  Yeah, me and my nigga Arafat\n  Gotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\n  Chef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\n  Telling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\n  Pythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\n  I speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\n  I beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\n  Meanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\n  Then the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\n  Soon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n\n  Yo, I lit a booger up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\n  Binoculars, scanners, we all listen to jake\n  Ran out of baggies, my mouth is dry\n  Got them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\n  Nah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\n  Holding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\n  You know how it be with the peppermint Clarks\n  Throwing darts at a hoodrat\n  Getting slow necked all up in The Bronx\n  That's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\n  I just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\n  Like, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezel\n  When I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\n  A deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\n  Ever since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\n  This ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\n  Cuz you can get scratched like AJ\n  Cuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\n  I have a team of niggas moving my furs\n"},{"id":12470163,"name":"10 Bricks","trackName":"10 Bricks","artistName":"Raekwon, Cappadonna, Ghostface Killah","albumName":"Only Built 4 Cuban Linx... Pt. II","duration":197.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\nI need some of that, (slide through the back)\nI need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\nBack of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\nWe got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\nfault)\n\nAyo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\nBut I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\nMove up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\nSoldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\nFlamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\nSo many leeches I just left it and walked\nMy flow wicked, Miami money, moving and ridicly\nGeico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\nTake baths with white women, lingerie see-through\nTaking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\nSelling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\nSnub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\nKilled him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\nThey caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\nSlutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\nShe threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\nYup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\nI know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\nGold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, Pony\nLeather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n\nKnock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\nSwing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\nSpecialize in mic rippers, splashes\nWe the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n\nBeefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\nChase heads up and down the block and kill rats\nSkilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\nThe shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\nFour macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\nYeah, me and my nigga Arafat\nGotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\nChef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\nTelling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\nPythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\nI speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\nI beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\nMeanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\nThen the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\nSoon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n\nYo, I lit a booger up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\nBinoculars, scanners, we all listen to jake\nRan out of baggies, my mouth is dry\nGot them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\nNah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\nHolding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\nYou know how it be with the peppermint Clarks\nThrowing darts at a hoodrat\nGetting slow necked all up in The Bronx\nThat's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\nI just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\nLike, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezel\nWhen I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\nA deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\nEver since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\nThis ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\nCuz you can get scratched like AJ\nCuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\nI have a team of niggas moving my furs","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 10 Bricks\n  artist: Raekwon, Cappadonna, Ghostface Killah\n  album: Only Built 4 Cuban Linx... Pt. II\n  duration_ms: 197000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\n  I need some of that, (slide through the back)\n  I need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\n  Back of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\n  We got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\n  fault)\n\n  Ayo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\n  But I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\n  Move up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\n  Soldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\n  Flamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\n  So many leeches I just left it and walked\n  My flow wicked, Miami money, moving and ridicly\n  Geico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\n  Take baths with white women, lingerie see-through\n  Taking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\n  Selling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\n  Snub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\n  Killed him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\n  They caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\n  Slutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\n  She threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\n  Yup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\n  I know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\n  Gold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, Pony\n  Leather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n\n  Knock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\n  Swing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\n  Specialize in mic rippers, splashes\n  We the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n\n  Beefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\n  Chase heads up and down the block and kill rats\n  Skilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\n  The shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\n  Four macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\n  Yeah, me and my nigga Arafat\n  Gotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\n  Chef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\n  Telling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\n  Pythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\n  I speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\n  I beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\n  Meanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\n  Then the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\n  Soon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n\n  Yo, I lit a booger up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\n  Binoculars, scanners, we all listen to jake\n  Ran out of baggies, my mouth is dry\n  Got them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\n  Nah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\n  Holding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\n  You know how it be with the peppermint Clarks\n  Throwing darts at a hoodrat\n  Getting slow necked all up in The Bronx\n  That's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\n  I just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\n  Like, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezel\n  When I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\n  A deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\n  Ever since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\n  This ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\n  Cuz you can get scratched like AJ\n  Cuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\n  I have a team of niggas moving my furs\n"},{"id":19046787,"name":"10 Bricks Ft Cappadonna Ghostf\u000010 Bricks Ft Cappadonna Ghostface","trackName":"10 Bricks Ft Cappadonna Ghostf\u000010 Bricks Ft Cappadonna Ghostface","artistName":"Raekwon","albumName":"The Greatest Rap","duration":196.911875,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\nI need some of that, (slide through the back)\nI need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\nBack of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\nWe got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\nfault)\n\nAyo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\nBut I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\nMove up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\nSoldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\nFlamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\nSo many leeches I just left it and walked\nMy flow wicked, Miami money, moving and ridicly\nGeico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\nTake baths with white women, lingerie see-through\nTaking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\nSelling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\nSnub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\nKilled him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\nThey caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\nSlutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\nShe threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\nYup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\nI know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\nGold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, Pony\nLeather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n\nKnock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\nSwing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\nSpecialize in mic rippers, splashes\nWe the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n\nBeefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\nChase heads up and down the block and kill rats\nSkilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\nThe shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\nFour macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\nYeah, me and my nigga Arafat\nGotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\nChef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\nTelling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\nPythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\nI speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\nI beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\nMeanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\nThen the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\nSoon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n\nYo, I lit a booger up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\nBinoculars, scanners, we all listen to jake\nRan out of baggies, my mouth is dry\nGot them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\nNah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\nHolding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\nYou know how it be with the peppermint Clarks\nThrowing darts at a hoodrat\nGetting slow necked all up in The Bronx\nThat's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\nI just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\nLike, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezel\nWhen I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\nA deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\nEver since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\nThis ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\nCuz you can get scratched like AJ\nCuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\nI have a team of niggas moving my furs","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: \"10 Bricks Ft Cappadonna Ghostf\\0\\uFEFF10 Bricks Ft Cappadonna Ghostface\"\n  artist: Raekwon\n  album: The Greatest Rap\n  duration_ms: 196912\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Yo, yo, Iron Chef (gracias)\n  I need some of that, (slide through the back)\n  I need ya'll to come back to the, (I heard juice)\n  Back of the store over here (just be easy and tell ya man to be cool)\n  We got some culinary cats right here, we need you (we'll kill him if he\n  fault)\n\n  Ayo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son\n  But I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son\n  Move up, about 32 of those and open locker dough\n  Soldier got locked up, blow killed the doctor\n  Flamboyant police is X fives, watching my lofts\n  So many leeches I just left it and walked\n  My flow wicked, Miami money, moving and ridicly\n  Geico on the arm froze, rose gold with me\n  Take baths with white women, lingerie see-through\n  Taking trips to Iran, my Spanish nigga people\n  Selling drugs to Flatbush, call my nigga Cecil\n  Snub with the black gloves, on half-moon Greek do\n  Killed him in the Bahamas, his wife ran, white van pulled up\n  They caught him out in Brooklyn with a white man\n  Slutted out, rosed out, sister was gone, she geeking\n  She threw the rifle in her mouth and said 'good evening'\n  Yup, Paul Wall grill line, be getting money, crime thief\n  I know her from Africa, pretty smile, nine teeth\n  Gold joints, frames only, Louis Vuitton, Pony\n  Leather with the matching sweater on, you owe me\n\n  Knock the ash off the blunt, confront niggas who cunt\n  Swing an ax, tax niggas rhyme different from cats\n  Specialize in mic rippers, splashes\n  We the last skippers, big rocks and the block will stick\n\n  Beefsteak Charlie niggas eat and they get fat\n  Chase heads up and down the block and kill rats\n  Skilled with the gats, even feds don't know where the shells at\n  The shell trapped up in nice crib with four packs\n  Four macs, caught a nice cell for four stacks\n  Yeah, me and my nigga Arafat\n  Gotta escape but we'll be right back, real soon\n  Chef cook it up, we got a date with real goons\n  Telling you Ghost, my connect crazy with the wreck\n  Pythons used to talk to her sister named Yvette\n  I speed it up, me and the Linx, was getting weeded up\n  I beat it up, yeah I hit that, but I ain't seed it up\n  Meanwhile, back on the block, we seen two trucks\n  Then the windows rolled down, we see these two fucks\n  Soon as they jumped out, see these tools bust\n\n  Yo, I lit a booger up, rocks is gone, so we bagging up all shape\n  Binoculars, scanners, we all listen to jake\n  Ran out of baggies, my mouth is dry\n  Got them dirty joints all scattered, don't act surprised\n  Nah, nigga the currency rushes like popping a wheelie\n  Holding a pipe with one hand, the other down in the Bentleys\n  You know how it be with the peppermint Clarks\n  Throwing darts at a hoodrat\n  Getting slow necked all up in The Bronx\n  That's all me, thirty four shines, forty four lines\n  I just chill like Aaron Hall, writing raw rhymes\n  Like, threw Kool-Aid rubies in a lemonade bezel\n  When I was 12 in the church, I started packing that metal\n  A deuce deuce, my supplier was Loose Bruce\n  Ever since I had the drop, my instinct was to shoot-shoot\n  This ain't For the Love of Ray J, it's for the love of the AK\n  Cuz you can get scratched like AJ\n  Cuban Link Dynasty has emerged, this rap shit stop\n  I have a team of niggas moving my furs\n"}]