[{"id":38274928,"name":"Collection Plates","trackName":"Collection Plates","artistName":"Ransom/Boldy James/Nicholas Craven/Young Chris","albumName":"Collection Plates","duration":271.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"One time for the one time\nAyy, check\n\nMe and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\nAsk my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\nDon't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\nFell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\nThey say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\nHood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\nThink I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\nGettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\nIf you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\nIf you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\nCan't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\nBust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\nReason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\nIf you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\nNiggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\nIf me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\nWhat else?\n\nWe gon' disrespect your election date\nTwo bands worth of singles in the collection plate\nMy team tight\nBut we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\nDamn, respect your rations and bless your plates\nOur Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\nShaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\nRest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\nTwo bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\nMe and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\nNic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\nMy tester said it's pure\nWhen it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\nGranny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\nNow I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\nGot pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\nFifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\nAt least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\nI guess it wasn't meant for us\nYoung niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\nSeventeen hour drives in a rented truck\nTake it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\nSeveral bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\nDuffel Bag and Bo Jackson\nRun over niggas who ain't got no traction\nTouch down in your city, we dope taxin'\nFree lunches in Section 8\nPray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\nBlood money in the church's collection plate\n\nWe gon' disrespect your election date\nTwo bands worth of singles in the collection plate\nMy team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\nDamn, respect your rations and bless your plates\nOur Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\nShaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\nRest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\nTwo bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\nCall it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\nHave 'em raisin' the murder rate\nWhile I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\nFlushed away before they rush the plays\nBefore I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\nJust give me another case, never told\nNobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\nGotta hustle to make these payments\nLife on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\nTryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\nMy best friend with them rednecks and them racists\nGot twenty-one in them cages, nigga\nFaith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\nFather, I don't have the answer\nPissin' out methazine from the Phantom\nMe and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\nAfghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\nGot a bitch that come from Atlanta\nBringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\nStamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\nAdd some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n\nYeah, damn Gunna\nI know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n\nWe gon' disrespect your election date\nTwo bands worth of singles in the collection plate\nMy team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\nDamn, respect your rations and bless your plates\nOur Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\nShaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\nRest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\nTwo bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates","syncedLyrics":"[00:03.40]One time for the one time\n[00:08.47]Ayy, check\n[00:13.10]Me and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\n[00:16.38]Ask my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\n[00:19.59]Don't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\n[00:22.24]Fell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\n[00:25.71]They say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\n[00:28.61]Hood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\n[00:31.89]Think I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\n[00:35.01]Gettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\n[00:38.32]If you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\n[00:41.60]If you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\n[00:44.94]Can't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\n[00:47.95]Bust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\n[00:51.50]Reason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\n[00:54.23]If you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\n[00:57.83]Niggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\n[01:00.85]If me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\n[01:05.13]What else?\n[01:05.86]We gon' disrespect your election date\n[01:08.10]Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n[01:11.09]My team tight\n[01:11.75]But we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n[01:14.58]Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n[01:17.70]Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n[01:20.95]Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n[01:23.84]Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n[01:27.65]Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n[01:30.64]Me and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\n[01:33.74]Nic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\n[01:36.78]My tester said it's pure\n[01:37.84]When it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\n[01:39.91]Granny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\n[01:43.27]Now I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\n[01:46.23]Got pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\n[01:49.43]Fifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\n[01:52.64]At least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\n[01:55.97]I guess it wasn't meant for us\n[01:57.58]Young niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\n[01:59.99]Seventeen hour drives in a rented truck\n[02:02.38]Take it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\n[02:05.62]Several bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\n[02:09.02]Duffel Bag and Bo Jackson\n[02:10.69]Run over niggas who ain't got no traction\n[02:13.09]Touch down in your city, we dope taxin'\n[02:15.31]Free lunches in Section 8\n[02:16.90]Pray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\n[02:19.47]Blood money in the church's collection plate\n[02:22.83]We gon' disrespect your election date\n[02:25.27]Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n[02:28.42]My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n[02:31.96]Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n[02:34.85]Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n[02:37.88]Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n[02:41.08]Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n[02:45.06]Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n[02:47.88]Call it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\n[02:50.57]Have 'em raisin' the murder rate\n[02:51.83]While I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\n[02:53.52]Flushed away before they rush the plays\n[02:55.66]Before I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\n[02:57.44]Just give me another case, never told\n[02:59.68]Nobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\n[03:03.05]Gotta hustle to make these payments\n[03:04.59]Life on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\n[03:06.32]Tryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\n[03:08.38]My best friend with them rednecks and them racists\n[03:11.64]Got twenty-one in them cages, nigga\n[03:13.29]Faith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\n[03:15.86]Father, I don't have the answer\n[03:17.64]Pissin' out methazine from the Phantom\n[03:19.27]Me and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\n[03:22.57]Afghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\n[03:25.65]Got a bitch that come from Atlanta\n[03:27.56]Bringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\n[03:28.96]Stamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\n[03:30.65]Add some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n[03:33.96]Yeah, damn Gunna\n[03:36.72]I know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n[03:40.19]We gon' disrespect your election date\n[03:43.03]Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n[03:45.55]My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n[03:49.14]Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n[03:52.29]Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n[03:55.13]Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n[03:58.43]Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n[04:02.14]Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n[04:07.30]","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Collection Plates\n  artist: Ransom/Boldy James/Nicholas Craven/Young Chris\n  album: Collection Plates\n  duration_ms: 271000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: One time for the one time\n  start_ms: 3400\n  end_ms: 8470\n- text: Ayy, check\n  start_ms: 8470\n  end_ms: 13100\n- text: Me and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\n  start_ms: 13100\n  end_ms: 16380\n- text: Ask my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\n  start_ms: 16380\n  end_ms: 19590\n- text: Don't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\n  start_ms: 19590\n  end_ms: 22240\n- text: Fell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\n  start_ms: 22240\n  end_ms: 25710\n- text: They say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\n  start_ms: 25710\n  end_ms: 28610\n- text: Hood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\n  start_ms: 28610\n  end_ms: 31890\n- text: Think I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\n  start_ms: 31890\n  end_ms: 35010\n- text: Gettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\n  start_ms: 35010\n  end_ms: 38320\n- text: If you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\n  start_ms: 38320\n  end_ms: 41600\n- text: If you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\n  start_ms: 41600\n  end_ms: 44940\n- text: Can't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\n  start_ms: 44940\n  end_ms: 47950\n- text: Bust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\n  start_ms: 47950\n  end_ms: 51500\n- text: Reason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\n  start_ms: 51500\n  end_ms: 54230\n- text: If you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\n  start_ms: 54230\n  end_ms: 57830\n- text: Niggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\n  start_ms: 57830\n  end_ms: 60850\n- text: If me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\n  start_ms: 60850\n  end_ms: 65130\n- text: What else?\n  start_ms: 65130\n  end_ms: 65860\n- text: We gon' disrespect your election date\n  start_ms: 65860\n  end_ms: 68100\n- text: Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  start_ms: 68100\n  end_ms: 71090\n- text: My team tight\n  start_ms: 71090\n  end_ms: 71750\n- text: But we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  start_ms: 71750\n  end_ms: 74580\n- text: Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  start_ms: 74580\n  end_ms: 77700\n- text: Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  start_ms: 77700\n  end_ms: 80950\n- text: Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  start_ms: 80950\n  end_ms: 83840\n- text: Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  start_ms: 83840\n  end_ms: 87650\n- text: Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n  start_ms: 87650\n  end_ms: 90640\n- text: Me and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\n  start_ms: 90640\n  end_ms: 93740\n- text: Nic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\n  start_ms: 93740\n  end_ms: 96780\n- text: My tester said it's pure\n  start_ms: 96780\n  end_ms: 97840\n- text: When it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\n  start_ms: 97840\n  end_ms: 99910\n- text: Granny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\n  start_ms: 99910\n  end_ms: 103270\n- text: Now I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\n  start_ms: 103270\n  end_ms: 106230\n- text: Got pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\n  start_ms: 106230\n  end_ms: 109430\n- text: Fifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\n  start_ms: 109430\n  end_ms: 112640\n- text: At least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\n  start_ms: 112640\n  end_ms: 115970\n- text: I guess it wasn't meant for us\n  start_ms: 115970\n  end_ms: 117580\n- text: Young niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\n  start_ms: 117580\n  end_ms: 119990\n- text: Seventeen hour drives in a rented truck\n  start_ms: 119990\n  end_ms: 122380\n- text: Take it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\n  start_ms: 122380\n  end_ms: 125620\n- text: Several bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\n  start_ms: 125620\n  end_ms: 129020\n- text: Duffel Bag and Bo Jackson\n  start_ms: 129020\n  end_ms: 130690\n- text: Run over niggas who ain't got no traction\n  start_ms: 130690\n  end_ms: 133090\n- text: Touch down in your city, we dope taxin'\n  start_ms: 133090\n  end_ms: 135310\n- text: Free lunches in Section 8\n  start_ms: 135310\n  end_ms: 136900\n- text: Pray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\n  start_ms: 136900\n  end_ms: 139470\n- text: Blood money in the church's collection plate\n  start_ms: 139470\n  end_ms: 142830\n- text: We gon' disrespect your election date\n  start_ms: 142830\n  end_ms: 145270\n- text: Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  start_ms: 145270\n  end_ms: 148420\n- text: My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  start_ms: 148420\n  end_ms: 151960\n- text: Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  start_ms: 151960\n  end_ms: 154850\n- text: Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  start_ms: 154850\n  end_ms: 157880\n- text: Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  start_ms: 157880\n  end_ms: 161080\n- text: Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  start_ms: 161080\n  end_ms: 165060\n- text: Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n  start_ms: 165060\n  end_ms: 167880\n- text: Call it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\n  start_ms: 167880\n  end_ms: 170570\n- text: Have 'em raisin' the murder rate\n  start_ms: 170570\n  end_ms: 171830\n- text: While I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\n  start_ms: 171830\n  end_ms: 173520\n- text: Flushed away before they rush the plays\n  start_ms: 173520\n  end_ms: 175660\n- text: Before I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\n  start_ms: 175660\n  end_ms: 177440\n- text: Just give me another case, never told\n  start_ms: 177440\n  end_ms: 179680\n- text: Nobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\n  start_ms: 179680\n  end_ms: 183050\n- text: Gotta hustle to make these payments\n  start_ms: 183050\n  end_ms: 184590\n- text: Life on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\n  start_ms: 184590\n  end_ms: 186320\n- text: Tryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\n  start_ms: 186320\n  end_ms: 188380\n- text: My best friend with them rednecks and them racists\n  start_ms: 188380\n  end_ms: 191640\n- text: Got twenty-one in them cages, nigga\n  start_ms: 191640\n  end_ms: 193290\n- text: Faith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\n  start_ms: 193290\n  end_ms: 195860\n- text: Father, I don't have the answer\n  start_ms: 195860\n  end_ms: 197640\n- text: Pissin' out methazine from the Phantom\n  start_ms: 197640\n  end_ms: 199270\n- text: Me and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\n  start_ms: 199270\n  end_ms: 202570\n- text: Afghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\n  start_ms: 202570\n  end_ms: 205650\n- text: Got a bitch that come from Atlanta\n  start_ms: 205650\n  end_ms: 207560\n- text: Bringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\n  start_ms: 207560\n  end_ms: 208960\n- text: Stamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\n  start_ms: 208960\n  end_ms: 210650\n- text: Add some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n  start_ms: 210650\n  end_ms: 213960\n- text: Yeah, damn Gunna\n  start_ms: 213960\n  end_ms: 216720\n- text: I know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n  start_ms: 216720\n  end_ms: 220190\n- text: We gon' disrespect your election date\n  start_ms: 220190\n  end_ms: 223030\n- text: Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  start_ms: 223030\n  end_ms: 225550\n- text: My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  start_ms: 225550\n  end_ms: 229140\n- text: Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  start_ms: 229140\n  end_ms: 232290\n- text: Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  start_ms: 232290\n  end_ms: 235130\n- text: Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  start_ms: 235130\n  end_ms: 238430\n- text: Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  start_ms: 238430\n  end_ms: 242140\n- text: Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n  start_ms: 242140\n  end_ms: 247300\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 247300\nplain: |-\n  One time for the one time\n  Ayy, check\n\n  Me and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\n  Ask my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\n  Don't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\n  Fell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\n  They say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\n  Hood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\n  Think I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\n  Gettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\n  If you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\n  If you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\n  Can't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\n  Bust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\n  Reason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\n  If you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\n  Niggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\n  If me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\n  What else?\n\n  We gon' disrespect your election date\n  Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  My team tight\n  But we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\n  Me and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\n  Nic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\n  My tester said it's pure\n  When it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\n  Granny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\n  Now I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\n  Got pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\n  Fifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\n  At least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\n  I guess it wasn't meant for us\n  Young niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\n  Seventeen hour drives in a rented truck\n  Take it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\n  Several bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\n  Duffel Bag and Bo Jackson\n  Run over niggas who ain't got no traction\n  Touch down in your city, we dope taxin'\n  Free lunches in Section 8\n  Pray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\n  Blood money in the church's collection plate\n\n  We gon' disrespect your election date\n  Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\n  Call it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\n  Have 'em raisin' the murder rate\n  While I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\n  Flushed away before they rush the plays\n  Before I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\n  Just give me another case, never told\n  Nobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\n  Gotta hustle to make these payments\n  Life on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\n  Tryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\n  My best friend with them rednecks and them racists\n  Got twenty-one in them cages, nigga\n  Faith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\n  Father, I don't have the answer\n  Pissin' out methazine from the Phantom\n  Me and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\n  Afghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\n  Got a bitch that come from Atlanta\n  Bringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\n  Stamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\n  Add some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n\n  Yeah, damn Gunna\n  I know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n\n  We gon' disrespect your election date\n  Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n"},{"id":28451277,"name":"COLLECTION PLATES (feat. Young Chris)","trackName":"COLLECTION PLATES (feat. Young Chris)","artistName":"Ransom","albumName":"COLLECTION PLATES (feat. Young Chris)","duration":271.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"One time for the one time\nAyy, check\n\nMe and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\nAsk my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\nDon't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\nFell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\nThey say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\nHood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\nThink I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\nGettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\nIf you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\nIf you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\nCan't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\nBust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\nReason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\nIf you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\nNiggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\nIf me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\nWhat else?\n\nWe gon' disrespect your election date\nTwo bands worth of singles in the collection plate\nMy team tight\nBut we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\nDamn, respect your rations and bless your plates\nOur Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\nShaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\nRest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\nTwo bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\nMe and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\nNic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\nMy tester said it's pure\nWhen it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\nGranny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\nNow I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\nGot pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\nFifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\nAt least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\nI guess it wasn't meant for us\nYoung niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\nSeventeen hour drives in a rented truck\nTake it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\nSeveral bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\nDuffel Bag and Bo Jackson\nRun over niggas who ain't got no traction\nTouch down in your city, we dope taxin'\nFree lunches in Section 8\nPray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\nBlood money in the church's collection plate\n\nWe gon' disrespect your election date\nTwo bands worth of singles in the collection plate\nMy team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\nDamn, respect your rations and bless your plates\nOur Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\nShaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\nRest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\nTwo bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\nCall it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\nHave 'em raisin' the murder rate\nWhile I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\nFlushed away before they rush the plays\nBefore I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\nJust give me another case, never told\nNobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\nGotta hustle to make these payments\nLife on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\nTryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\nMy best friend with them rednecks and them racists\nGot twenty-one in them cages, nigga\nFaith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\nFather, I don't have the answer\nPissin' out methazine from the Phantom\nMe and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\nAfghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\nGot a bitch that come from Atlanta\nBringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\nStamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\nAdd some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n\nYeah, damn Gunna\nI know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n\nWe gon' disrespect your election date\nTwo bands worth of singles in the collection plate\nMy team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\nDamn, respect your rations and bless your plates\nOur Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\nShaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\nRest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\nTwo bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates","syncedLyrics":"[00:03.40] One time for the one time\n[00:08.47] Ayy, check\n[00:13.10] Me and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\n[00:16.38] Ask my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\n[00:19.59] Don't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\n[00:22.24] Fell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\n[00:25.71] They say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\n[00:28.61] Hood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\n[00:31.89] Think I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\n[00:35.01] Gettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\n[00:38.32] If you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\n[00:41.60] If you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\n[00:44.94] Can't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\n[00:47.95] Bust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\n[00:51.50] Reason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\n[00:54.23] If you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\n[00:57.83] Niggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\n[01:00.85] If me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\n[01:05.13] What else?\n[01:05.86] We gon' disrespect your election date\n[01:08.10] Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n[01:11.09] My team tight\n[01:11.75] But we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n[01:14.58] Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n[01:17.70] Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n[01:20.95] Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n[01:23.84] Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n[01:27.65] Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n[01:30.64] Me and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\n[01:33.74] Nic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\n[01:36.78] My tester said it's pure\n[01:37.84] When it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\n[01:39.91] Granny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\n[01:43.27] Now I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\n[01:46.23] Got pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\n[01:49.43] Fifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\n[01:52.64] At least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\n[01:55.97] I guess it wasn't meant for us\n[01:57.58] Young niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\n[01:59.99] Seventeen hour drives in a rented truck\n[02:02.38] Take it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\n[02:05.62] Several bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\n[02:09.02] Duffel Bag and Bo Jackson\n[02:10.69] Run over niggas who ain't got no traction\n[02:13.09] Touch down in your city, we dope taxin'\n[02:15.31] Free lunches in Section 8\n[02:16.90] Pray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\n[02:19.47] Blood money in the church's collection plate\n[02:22.83] We gon' disrespect your election date\n[02:25.27] Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n[02:28.42] My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n[02:31.96] Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n[02:34.85] Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n[02:37.88] Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n[02:41.08] Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n[02:45.06] Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n[02:47.88] Call it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\n[02:50.57] Have 'em raisin' the murder rate\n[02:51.83] While I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\n[02:53.52] Flushed away before they rush the plays\n[02:55.66] Before I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\n[02:57.44] Just give me another case, never told\n[02:59.68] Nobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\n[03:03.05] Gotta hustle to make these payments\n[03:04.59] Life on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\n[03:06.32] Tryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\n[03:08.38] My best friend with them rednecks and them racists\n[03:11.64] Got twenty-one in them cages, nigga\n[03:13.29] Faith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\n[03:15.86] Father, I don't have the answer\n[03:17.64] Pissin' out methazine from the Phantom\n[03:19.27] Me and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\n[03:22.57] Afghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\n[03:25.65] Got a bitch that come from Atlanta\n[03:27.56] Bringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\n[03:28.96] Stamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\n[03:30.65] Add some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n[03:33.96] Yeah, damn Gunna\n[03:36.72] I know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n[03:40.19] We gon' disrespect your election date\n[03:43.03] Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n[03:45.55] My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n[03:49.14] Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n[03:52.29] Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n[03:55.13] Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n[03:58.43] Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n[04:02.14] Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n[04:07.30] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: COLLECTION PLATES (feat. Young Chris)\n  artist: Ransom\n  album: COLLECTION PLATES (feat. Young Chris)\n  duration_ms: 271000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: One time for the one time\n  start_ms: 3400\n  end_ms: 8470\n- text: Ayy, check\n  start_ms: 8470\n  end_ms: 13100\n- text: Me and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\n  start_ms: 13100\n  end_ms: 16380\n- text: Ask my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\n  start_ms: 16380\n  end_ms: 19590\n- text: Don't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\n  start_ms: 19590\n  end_ms: 22240\n- text: Fell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\n  start_ms: 22240\n  end_ms: 25710\n- text: They say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\n  start_ms: 25710\n  end_ms: 28610\n- text: Hood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\n  start_ms: 28610\n  end_ms: 31890\n- text: Think I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\n  start_ms: 31890\n  end_ms: 35010\n- text: Gettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\n  start_ms: 35010\n  end_ms: 38320\n- text: If you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\n  start_ms: 38320\n  end_ms: 41600\n- text: If you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\n  start_ms: 41600\n  end_ms: 44940\n- text: Can't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\n  start_ms: 44940\n  end_ms: 47950\n- text: Bust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\n  start_ms: 47950\n  end_ms: 51500\n- text: Reason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\n  start_ms: 51500\n  end_ms: 54230\n- text: If you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\n  start_ms: 54230\n  end_ms: 57830\n- text: Niggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\n  start_ms: 57830\n  end_ms: 60850\n- text: If me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\n  start_ms: 60850\n  end_ms: 65130\n- text: What else?\n  start_ms: 65130\n  end_ms: 65860\n- text: We gon' disrespect your election date\n  start_ms: 65860\n  end_ms: 68100\n- text: Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  start_ms: 68100\n  end_ms: 71090\n- text: My team tight\n  start_ms: 71090\n  end_ms: 71750\n- text: But we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  start_ms: 71750\n  end_ms: 74580\n- text: Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  start_ms: 74580\n  end_ms: 77700\n- text: Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  start_ms: 77700\n  end_ms: 80950\n- text: Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  start_ms: 80950\n  end_ms: 83840\n- text: Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  start_ms: 83840\n  end_ms: 87650\n- text: Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n  start_ms: 87650\n  end_ms: 90640\n- text: Me and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\n  start_ms: 90640\n  end_ms: 93740\n- text: Nic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\n  start_ms: 93740\n  end_ms: 96780\n- text: My tester said it's pure\n  start_ms: 96780\n  end_ms: 97840\n- text: When it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\n  start_ms: 97840\n  end_ms: 99910\n- text: Granny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\n  start_ms: 99910\n  end_ms: 103270\n- text: Now I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\n  start_ms: 103270\n  end_ms: 106230\n- text: Got pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\n  start_ms: 106230\n  end_ms: 109430\n- text: Fifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\n  start_ms: 109430\n  end_ms: 112640\n- text: At least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\n  start_ms: 112640\n  end_ms: 115970\n- text: I guess it wasn't meant for us\n  start_ms: 115970\n  end_ms: 117580\n- text: Young niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\n  start_ms: 117580\n  end_ms: 119990\n- text: Seventeen hour drives in a rented truck\n  start_ms: 119990\n  end_ms: 122380\n- text: Take it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\n  start_ms: 122380\n  end_ms: 125620\n- text: Several bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\n  start_ms: 125620\n  end_ms: 129020\n- text: Duffel Bag and Bo Jackson\n  start_ms: 129020\n  end_ms: 130690\n- text: Run over niggas who ain't got no traction\n  start_ms: 130690\n  end_ms: 133090\n- text: Touch down in your city, we dope taxin'\n  start_ms: 133090\n  end_ms: 135310\n- text: Free lunches in Section 8\n  start_ms: 135310\n  end_ms: 136900\n- text: Pray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\n  start_ms: 136900\n  end_ms: 139470\n- text: Blood money in the church's collection plate\n  start_ms: 139470\n  end_ms: 142830\n- text: We gon' disrespect your election date\n  start_ms: 142830\n  end_ms: 145270\n- text: Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  start_ms: 145270\n  end_ms: 148420\n- text: My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  start_ms: 148420\n  end_ms: 151960\n- text: Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  start_ms: 151960\n  end_ms: 154850\n- text: Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  start_ms: 154850\n  end_ms: 157880\n- text: Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  start_ms: 157880\n  end_ms: 161080\n- text: Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  start_ms: 161080\n  end_ms: 165060\n- text: Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n  start_ms: 165060\n  end_ms: 167880\n- text: Call it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\n  start_ms: 167880\n  end_ms: 170570\n- text: Have 'em raisin' the murder rate\n  start_ms: 170570\n  end_ms: 171830\n- text: While I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\n  start_ms: 171830\n  end_ms: 173520\n- text: Flushed away before they rush the plays\n  start_ms: 173520\n  end_ms: 175660\n- text: Before I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\n  start_ms: 175660\n  end_ms: 177440\n- text: Just give me another case, never told\n  start_ms: 177440\n  end_ms: 179680\n- text: Nobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\n  start_ms: 179680\n  end_ms: 183050\n- text: Gotta hustle to make these payments\n  start_ms: 183050\n  end_ms: 184590\n- text: Life on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\n  start_ms: 184590\n  end_ms: 186320\n- text: Tryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\n  start_ms: 186320\n  end_ms: 188380\n- text: My best friend with them rednecks and them racists\n  start_ms: 188380\n  end_ms: 191640\n- text: Got twenty-one in them cages, nigga\n  start_ms: 191640\n  end_ms: 193290\n- text: Faith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\n  start_ms: 193290\n  end_ms: 195860\n- text: Father, I don't have the answer\n  start_ms: 195860\n  end_ms: 197640\n- text: Pissin' out methazine from the Phantom\n  start_ms: 197640\n  end_ms: 199270\n- text: Me and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\n  start_ms: 199270\n  end_ms: 202570\n- text: Afghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\n  start_ms: 202570\n  end_ms: 205650\n- text: Got a bitch that come from Atlanta\n  start_ms: 205650\n  end_ms: 207560\n- text: Bringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\n  start_ms: 207560\n  end_ms: 208960\n- text: Stamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\n  start_ms: 208960\n  end_ms: 210650\n- text: Add some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n  start_ms: 210650\n  end_ms: 213960\n- text: Yeah, damn Gunna\n  start_ms: 213960\n  end_ms: 216720\n- text: I know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n  start_ms: 216720\n  end_ms: 220190\n- text: We gon' disrespect your election date\n  start_ms: 220190\n  end_ms: 223030\n- text: Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  start_ms: 223030\n  end_ms: 225550\n- text: My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  start_ms: 225550\n  end_ms: 229140\n- text: Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  start_ms: 229140\n  end_ms: 232290\n- text: Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  start_ms: 232290\n  end_ms: 235130\n- text: Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  start_ms: 235130\n  end_ms: 238430\n- text: Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  start_ms: 238430\n  end_ms: 242140\n- text: Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n  start_ms: 242140\n  end_ms: 247300\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 247300\nplain: |-\n  One time for the one time\n  Ayy, check\n\n  Me and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\n  Ask my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\n  Don't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\n  Fell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\n  They say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\n  Hood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\n  Think I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\n  Gettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\n  If you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\n  If you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\n  Can't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\n  Bust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\n  Reason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\n  If you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\n  Niggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\n  If me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\n  What else?\n\n  We gon' disrespect your election date\n  Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  My team tight\n  But we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\n  Me and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\n  Nic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\n  My tester said it's pure\n  When it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\n  Granny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\n  Now I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\n  Got pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\n  Fifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\n  At least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\n  I guess it wasn't meant for us\n  Young niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\n  Seventeen hour drives in a rented truck\n  Take it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\n  Several bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\n  Duffel Bag and Bo Jackson\n  Run over niggas who ain't got no traction\n  Touch down in your city, we dope taxin'\n  Free lunches in Section 8\n  Pray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\n  Blood money in the church's collection plate\n\n  We gon' disrespect your election date\n  Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\n  Call it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\n  Have 'em raisin' the murder rate\n  While I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\n  Flushed away before they rush the plays\n  Before I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\n  Just give me another case, never told\n  Nobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\n  Gotta hustle to make these payments\n  Life on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\n  Tryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\n  My best friend with them rednecks and them racists\n  Got twenty-one in them cages, nigga\n  Faith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\n  Father, I don't have the answer\n  Pissin' out methazine from the Phantom\n  Me and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\n  Afghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\n  Got a bitch that come from Atlanta\n  Bringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\n  Stamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\n  Add some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n\n  Yeah, damn Gunna\n  I know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n\n  We gon' disrespect your election date\n  Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n"},{"id":29331696,"name":"Collection Plates","trackName":"Collection Plates","artistName":"Ransom","albumName":"Salvation for the Wicked","duration":271.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"One time for the one time\nAyy, check\n\nMe and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\nAsk my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\nDon't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\nFell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\nThey say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\nHood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\nThink I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\nGettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\nIf you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\nIf you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\nCan't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\nBust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\nReason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\nIf you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\nNiggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\nIf me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\nWhat else?\n\nWe gon' disrespect your election date\nTwo bands worth of singles in the collection plate\nMy team tight\nBut we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\nDamn, respect your rations and bless your plates\nOur Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\nShaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\nRest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\nTwo bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\nMe and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\nNic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\nMy tester said it's pure\nWhen it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\nGranny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\nNow I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\nGot pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\nFifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\nAt least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\nI guess it wasn't meant for us\nYoung niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\nSeventeen hour drives in a rented truck\nTake it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\nSeveral bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\nDuffel Bag and Bo Jackson\nRun over niggas who ain't got no traction\nTouch down in your city, we dope taxin'\nFree lunches in Section 8\nPray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\nBlood money in the church's collection plate\n\nWe gon' disrespect your election date\nTwo bands worth of singles in the collection plate\nMy team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\nDamn, respect your rations and bless your plates\nOur Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\nShaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\nRest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\nTwo bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\nCall it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\nHave 'em raisin' the murder rate\nWhile I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\nFlushed away before they rush the plays\nBefore I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\nJust give me another case, never told\nNobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\nGotta hustle to make these payments\nLife on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\nTryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\nMy best friend with them rednecks and them racists\nGot twenty-one in them cages, nigga\nFaith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\nFather, I don't have the answer\nPissin' out methazine from the Phantom\nMe and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\nAfghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\nGot a bitch that come from Atlanta\nBringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\nStamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\nAdd some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n\nYeah, damn Gunna\nI know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n\nWe gon' disrespect your election date\nTwo bands worth of singles in the collection plate\nMy team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\nDamn, respect your rations and bless your plates\nOur Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\nShaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\nRest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\nTwo bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates","syncedLyrics":"[00:03.40] One time for the one time\n[00:08.47] Ayy, check\n[00:13.10] Me and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\n[00:16.38] Ask my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\n[00:19.59] Don't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\n[00:22.24] Fell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\n[00:25.71] They say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\n[00:28.61] Hood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\n[00:31.89] Think I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\n[00:35.01] Gettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\n[00:38.32] If you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\n[00:41.60] If you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\n[00:44.94] Can't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\n[00:47.95] Bust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\n[00:51.50] Reason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\n[00:54.23] If you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\n[00:57.83] Niggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\n[01:00.85] If me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\n[01:05.13] What else?\n[01:05.86] We gon' disrespect your election date\n[01:08.10] Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n[01:11.09] My team tight\n[01:11.75] But we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n[01:14.58] Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n[01:17.70] Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n[01:20.95] Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n[01:23.84] Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n[01:27.65] Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n[01:30.64] Me and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\n[01:33.74] Nic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\n[01:36.78] My tester said it's pure\n[01:37.84] When it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\n[01:39.91] Granny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\n[01:43.27] Now I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\n[01:46.23] Got pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\n[01:49.43] Fifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\n[01:52.64] At least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\n[01:55.97] I guess it wasn't meant for us\n[01:57.58] Young niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\n[01:59.99] Seventeen hour drives in a rented truck\n[02:02.38] Take it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\n[02:05.62] Several bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\n[02:09.02] Duffel Bag and Bo Jackson\n[02:10.69] Run over niggas who ain't got no traction\n[02:13.09] Touch down in your city, we dope taxin'\n[02:15.31] Free lunches in Section 8\n[02:16.90] Pray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\n[02:19.47] Blood money in the church's collection plate\n[02:22.83] We gon' disrespect your election date\n[02:25.27] Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n[02:28.42] My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n[02:31.96] Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n[02:34.85] Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n[02:37.88] Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n[02:41.08] Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n[02:45.06] Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n[02:47.88] Call it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\n[02:50.57] Have 'em raisin' the murder rate\n[02:51.83] While I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\n[02:53.52] Flushed away before they rush the plays\n[02:55.66] Before I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\n[02:57.44] Just give me another case, never told\n[02:59.68] Nobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\n[03:03.05] Gotta hustle to make these payments\n[03:04.59] Life on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\n[03:06.32] Tryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\n[03:08.38] My best friend with them rednecks and them racists\n[03:11.64] Got twenty-one in them cages, nigga\n[03:13.29] Faith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\n[03:15.86] Father, I don't have the answer\n[03:17.64] Pissin' out methazine from the Phantom\n[03:19.27] Me and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\n[03:22.57] Afghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\n[03:25.65] Got a bitch that come from Atlanta\n[03:27.56] Bringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\n[03:28.96] Stamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\n[03:30.65] Add some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n[03:33.96] Yeah, damn Gunna\n[03:36.72] I know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n[03:40.19] We gon' disrespect your election date\n[03:43.03] Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n[03:45.55] My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n[03:49.14] Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n[03:52.29] Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n[03:55.13] Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n[03:58.43] Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n[04:02.14] Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n[04:07.30] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Collection Plates\n  artist: Ransom\n  album: Salvation for the Wicked\n  duration_ms: 271000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: One time for the one time\n  start_ms: 3400\n  end_ms: 8470\n- text: Ayy, check\n  start_ms: 8470\n  end_ms: 13100\n- text: Me and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\n  start_ms: 13100\n  end_ms: 16380\n- text: Ask my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\n  start_ms: 16380\n  end_ms: 19590\n- text: Don't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\n  start_ms: 19590\n  end_ms: 22240\n- text: Fell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\n  start_ms: 22240\n  end_ms: 25710\n- text: They say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\n  start_ms: 25710\n  end_ms: 28610\n- text: Hood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\n  start_ms: 28610\n  end_ms: 31890\n- text: Think I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\n  start_ms: 31890\n  end_ms: 35010\n- text: Gettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\n  start_ms: 35010\n  end_ms: 38320\n- text: If you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\n  start_ms: 38320\n  end_ms: 41600\n- text: If you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\n  start_ms: 41600\n  end_ms: 44940\n- text: Can't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\n  start_ms: 44940\n  end_ms: 47950\n- text: Bust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\n  start_ms: 47950\n  end_ms: 51500\n- text: Reason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\n  start_ms: 51500\n  end_ms: 54230\n- text: If you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\n  start_ms: 54230\n  end_ms: 57830\n- text: Niggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\n  start_ms: 57830\n  end_ms: 60850\n- text: If me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\n  start_ms: 60850\n  end_ms: 65130\n- text: What else?\n  start_ms: 65130\n  end_ms: 65860\n- text: We gon' disrespect your election date\n  start_ms: 65860\n  end_ms: 68100\n- text: Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  start_ms: 68100\n  end_ms: 71090\n- text: My team tight\n  start_ms: 71090\n  end_ms: 71750\n- text: But we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  start_ms: 71750\n  end_ms: 74580\n- text: Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  start_ms: 74580\n  end_ms: 77700\n- text: Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  start_ms: 77700\n  end_ms: 80950\n- text: Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  start_ms: 80950\n  end_ms: 83840\n- text: Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  start_ms: 83840\n  end_ms: 87650\n- text: Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n  start_ms: 87650\n  end_ms: 90640\n- text: Me and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\n  start_ms: 90640\n  end_ms: 93740\n- text: Nic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\n  start_ms: 93740\n  end_ms: 96780\n- text: My tester said it's pure\n  start_ms: 96780\n  end_ms: 97840\n- text: When it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\n  start_ms: 97840\n  end_ms: 99910\n- text: Granny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\n  start_ms: 99910\n  end_ms: 103270\n- text: Now I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\n  start_ms: 103270\n  end_ms: 106230\n- text: Got pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\n  start_ms: 106230\n  end_ms: 109430\n- text: Fifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\n  start_ms: 109430\n  end_ms: 112640\n- text: At least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\n  start_ms: 112640\n  end_ms: 115970\n- text: I guess it wasn't meant for us\n  start_ms: 115970\n  end_ms: 117580\n- text: Young niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\n  start_ms: 117580\n  end_ms: 119990\n- text: Seventeen hour drives in a rented truck\n  start_ms: 119990\n  end_ms: 122380\n- text: Take it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\n  start_ms: 122380\n  end_ms: 125620\n- text: Several bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\n  start_ms: 125620\n  end_ms: 129020\n- text: Duffel Bag and Bo Jackson\n  start_ms: 129020\n  end_ms: 130690\n- text: Run over niggas who ain't got no traction\n  start_ms: 130690\n  end_ms: 133090\n- text: Touch down in your city, we dope taxin'\n  start_ms: 133090\n  end_ms: 135310\n- text: Free lunches in Section 8\n  start_ms: 135310\n  end_ms: 136900\n- text: Pray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\n  start_ms: 136900\n  end_ms: 139470\n- text: Blood money in the church's collection plate\n  start_ms: 139470\n  end_ms: 142830\n- text: We gon' disrespect your election date\n  start_ms: 142830\n  end_ms: 145270\n- text: Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  start_ms: 145270\n  end_ms: 148420\n- text: My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  start_ms: 148420\n  end_ms: 151960\n- text: Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  start_ms: 151960\n  end_ms: 154850\n- text: Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  start_ms: 154850\n  end_ms: 157880\n- text: Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  start_ms: 157880\n  end_ms: 161080\n- text: Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  start_ms: 161080\n  end_ms: 165060\n- text: Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n  start_ms: 165060\n  end_ms: 167880\n- text: Call it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\n  start_ms: 167880\n  end_ms: 170570\n- text: Have 'em raisin' the murder rate\n  start_ms: 170570\n  end_ms: 171830\n- text: While I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\n  start_ms: 171830\n  end_ms: 173520\n- text: Flushed away before they rush the plays\n  start_ms: 173520\n  end_ms: 175660\n- text: Before I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\n  start_ms: 175660\n  end_ms: 177440\n- text: Just give me another case, never told\n  start_ms: 177440\n  end_ms: 179680\n- text: Nobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\n  start_ms: 179680\n  end_ms: 183050\n- text: Gotta hustle to make these payments\n  start_ms: 183050\n  end_ms: 184590\n- text: Life on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\n  start_ms: 184590\n  end_ms: 186320\n- text: Tryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\n  start_ms: 186320\n  end_ms: 188380\n- text: My best friend with them rednecks and them racists\n  start_ms: 188380\n  end_ms: 191640\n- text: Got twenty-one in them cages, nigga\n  start_ms: 191640\n  end_ms: 193290\n- text: Faith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\n  start_ms: 193290\n  end_ms: 195860\n- text: Father, I don't have the answer\n  start_ms: 195860\n  end_ms: 197640\n- text: Pissin' out methazine from the Phantom\n  start_ms: 197640\n  end_ms: 199270\n- text: Me and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\n  start_ms: 199270\n  end_ms: 202570\n- text: Afghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\n  start_ms: 202570\n  end_ms: 205650\n- text: Got a bitch that come from Atlanta\n  start_ms: 205650\n  end_ms: 207560\n- text: Bringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\n  start_ms: 207560\n  end_ms: 208960\n- text: Stamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\n  start_ms: 208960\n  end_ms: 210650\n- text: Add some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n  start_ms: 210650\n  end_ms: 213960\n- text: Yeah, damn Gunna\n  start_ms: 213960\n  end_ms: 216720\n- text: I know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n  start_ms: 216720\n  end_ms: 220190\n- text: We gon' disrespect your election date\n  start_ms: 220190\n  end_ms: 223030\n- text: Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  start_ms: 223030\n  end_ms: 225550\n- text: My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  start_ms: 225550\n  end_ms: 229140\n- text: Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  start_ms: 229140\n  end_ms: 232290\n- text: Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  start_ms: 232290\n  end_ms: 235130\n- text: Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  start_ms: 235130\n  end_ms: 238430\n- text: Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  start_ms: 238430\n  end_ms: 242140\n- text: Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n  start_ms: 242140\n  end_ms: 247300\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 247300\nplain: |-\n  One time for the one time\n  Ayy, check\n\n  Me and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\n  Ask my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\n  Don't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\n  Fell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\n  They say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\n  Hood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\n  Think I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\n  Gettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\n  If you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\n  If you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\n  Can't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\n  Bust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\n  Reason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\n  If you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\n  Niggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\n  If me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\n  What else?\n\n  We gon' disrespect your election date\n  Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  My team tight\n  But we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\n  Me and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\n  Nic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\n  My tester said it's pure\n  When it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\n  Granny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\n  Now I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\n  Got pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\n  Fifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\n  At least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\n  I guess it wasn't meant for us\n  Young niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\n  Seventeen hour drives in a rented truck\n  Take it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\n  Several bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\n  Duffel Bag and Bo Jackson\n  Run over niggas who ain't got no traction\n  Touch down in your city, we dope taxin'\n  Free lunches in Section 8\n  Pray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\n  Blood money in the church's collection plate\n\n  We gon' disrespect your election date\n  Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\n  Call it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\n  Have 'em raisin' the murder rate\n  While I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\n  Flushed away before they rush the plays\n  Before I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\n  Just give me another case, never told\n  Nobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\n  Gotta hustle to make these payments\n  Life on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\n  Tryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\n  My best friend with them rednecks and them racists\n  Got twenty-one in them cages, nigga\n  Faith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\n  Father, I don't have the answer\n  Pissin' out methazine from the Phantom\n  Me and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\n  Afghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\n  Got a bitch that come from Atlanta\n  Bringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\n  Stamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\n  Add some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n\n  Yeah, damn Gunna\n  I know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n\n  We gon' disrespect your election date\n  Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n"},{"id":30272785,"name":"COLLECTION PLATES (feat. Young Chris)","trackName":"COLLECTION PLATES (feat. Young Chris)","artistName":"Ransom, Boldy James, Nicholas Craven, Young Chris","albumName":"COLLECTION PLATES (feat. Young Chris)","duration":271.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"One time for the one time\nAyy, check\n\nMe and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\nAsk my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\nDon't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\nFell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\nThey say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\nHood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\nThink I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\nGettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\nIf you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\nIf you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\nCan't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\nBust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\nReason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\nIf you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\nNiggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\nIf me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\nWhat else?\n\nWe gon' disrespect your election date\nTwo bands worth of singles in the collection plate\nMy team tight\nBut we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\nDamn, respect your rations and bless your plates\nOur Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\nShaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\nRest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\nTwo bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\nMe and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\nNic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\nMy tester said it's pure\nWhen it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\nGranny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\nNow I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\nGot pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\nFifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\nAt least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\nI guess it wasn't meant for us\nYoung niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\nSeventeen hour drives in a rented truck\nTake it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\nSeveral bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\nDuffel Bag and Bo Jackson\nRun over niggas who ain't got no traction\nTouch down in your city, we dope taxin'\nFree lunches in Section 8\nPray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\nBlood money in the church's collection plate\n\nWe gon' disrespect your election date\nTwo bands worth of singles in the collection plate\nMy team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\nDamn, respect your rations and bless your plates\nOur Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\nShaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\nRest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\nTwo bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\nCall it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\nHave 'em raisin' the murder rate\nWhile I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\nFlushed away before they rush the plays\nBefore I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\nJust give me another case, never told\nNobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\nGotta hustle to make these payments\nLife on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\nTryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\nMy best friend with them rednecks and them racists\nGot twenty-one in them cages, nigga\nFaith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\nFather, I don't have the answer\nPissin' out methazine from the Phantom\nMe and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\nAfghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\nGot a bitch that come from Atlanta\nBringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\nStamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\nAdd some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n\nYeah, damn Gunna\nI know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n\nWe gon' disrespect your election date\nTwo bands worth of singles in the collection plate\nMy team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\nDamn, respect your rations and bless your plates\nOur Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\nShaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\nRest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\nTwo bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates","syncedLyrics":"[00:03.40] One time for the one time\n[00:08.47] Ayy, check\n[00:13.10] Me and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\n[00:16.38] Ask my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\n[00:19.59] Don't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\n[00:22.24] Fell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\n[00:25.71] They say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\n[00:28.61] Hood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\n[00:31.89] Think I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\n[00:35.01] Gettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\n[00:38.32] If you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\n[00:41.60] If you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\n[00:44.94] Can't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\n[00:47.95] Bust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\n[00:51.50] Reason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\n[00:54.23] If you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\n[00:57.83] Niggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\n[01:00.85] If me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\n[01:05.13] What else?\n[01:05.86] We gon' disrespect your election date\n[01:08.10] Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n[01:11.09] My team tight\n[01:11.75] But we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n[01:14.58] Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n[01:17.70] Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n[01:20.95] Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n[01:23.84] Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n[01:27.65] Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n[01:30.64] Me and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\n[01:33.74] Nic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\n[01:36.78] My tester said it's pure\n[01:37.84] When it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\n[01:39.91] Granny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\n[01:43.27] Now I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\n[01:46.23] Got pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\n[01:49.43] Fifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\n[01:52.64] At least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\n[01:55.97] I guess it wasn't meant for us\n[01:57.58] Young niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\n[01:59.99] Seventeen hour drives in a rented truck\n[02:02.38] Take it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\n[02:05.62] Several bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\n[02:09.02] Duffel Bag and Bo Jackson\n[02:10.69] Run over niggas who ain't got no traction\n[02:13.09] Touch down in your city, we dope taxin'\n[02:15.31] Free lunches in Section 8\n[02:16.90] Pray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\n[02:19.47] Blood money in the church's collection plate\n[02:22.83] We gon' disrespect your election date\n[02:25.27] Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n[02:28.42] My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n[02:31.96] Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n[02:34.85] Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n[02:37.88] Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n[02:41.08] Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n[02:45.06] Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n[02:47.88] Call it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\n[02:50.57] Have 'em raisin' the murder rate\n[02:51.83] While I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\n[02:53.52] Flushed away before they rush the plays\n[02:55.66] Before I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\n[02:57.44] Just give me another case, never told\n[02:59.68] Nobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\n[03:03.05] Gotta hustle to make these payments\n[03:04.59] Life on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\n[03:06.32] Tryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\n[03:08.38] My best friend with them rednecks and them racists\n[03:11.64] Got twenty-one in them cages, nigga\n[03:13.29] Faith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\n[03:15.86] Father, I don't have the answer\n[03:17.64] Pissin' out methazine from the Phantom\n[03:19.27] Me and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\n[03:22.57] Afghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\n[03:25.65] Got a bitch that come from Atlanta\n[03:27.56] Bringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\n[03:28.96] Stamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\n[03:30.65] Add some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n[03:33.96] Yeah, damn Gunna\n[03:36.72] I know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n[03:40.19] We gon' disrespect your election date\n[03:43.03] Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n[03:45.55] My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n[03:49.14] Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n[03:52.29] Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n[03:55.13] Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n[03:58.43] Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n[04:02.14] Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n[04:07.30] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: COLLECTION PLATES (feat. Young Chris)\n  artist: Ransom, Boldy James, Nicholas Craven, Young Chris\n  album: COLLECTION PLATES (feat. Young Chris)\n  duration_ms: 271000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: One time for the one time\n  start_ms: 3400\n  end_ms: 8470\n- text: Ayy, check\n  start_ms: 8470\n  end_ms: 13100\n- text: Me and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\n  start_ms: 13100\n  end_ms: 16380\n- text: Ask my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\n  start_ms: 16380\n  end_ms: 19590\n- text: Don't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\n  start_ms: 19590\n  end_ms: 22240\n- text: Fell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\n  start_ms: 22240\n  end_ms: 25710\n- text: They say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\n  start_ms: 25710\n  end_ms: 28610\n- text: Hood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\n  start_ms: 28610\n  end_ms: 31890\n- text: Think I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\n  start_ms: 31890\n  end_ms: 35010\n- text: Gettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\n  start_ms: 35010\n  end_ms: 38320\n- text: If you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\n  start_ms: 38320\n  end_ms: 41600\n- text: If you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\n  start_ms: 41600\n  end_ms: 44940\n- text: Can't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\n  start_ms: 44940\n  end_ms: 47950\n- text: Bust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\n  start_ms: 47950\n  end_ms: 51500\n- text: Reason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\n  start_ms: 51500\n  end_ms: 54230\n- text: If you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\n  start_ms: 54230\n  end_ms: 57830\n- text: Niggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\n  start_ms: 57830\n  end_ms: 60850\n- text: If me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\n  start_ms: 60850\n  end_ms: 65130\n- text: What else?\n  start_ms: 65130\n  end_ms: 65860\n- text: We gon' disrespect your election date\n  start_ms: 65860\n  end_ms: 68100\n- text: Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  start_ms: 68100\n  end_ms: 71090\n- text: My team tight\n  start_ms: 71090\n  end_ms: 71750\n- text: But we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  start_ms: 71750\n  end_ms: 74580\n- text: Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  start_ms: 74580\n  end_ms: 77700\n- text: Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  start_ms: 77700\n  end_ms: 80950\n- text: Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  start_ms: 80950\n  end_ms: 83840\n- text: Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  start_ms: 83840\n  end_ms: 87650\n- text: Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n  start_ms: 87650\n  end_ms: 90640\n- text: Me and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\n  start_ms: 90640\n  end_ms: 93740\n- text: Nic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\n  start_ms: 93740\n  end_ms: 96780\n- text: My tester said it's pure\n  start_ms: 96780\n  end_ms: 97840\n- text: When it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\n  start_ms: 97840\n  end_ms: 99910\n- text: Granny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\n  start_ms: 99910\n  end_ms: 103270\n- text: Now I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\n  start_ms: 103270\n  end_ms: 106230\n- text: Got pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\n  start_ms: 106230\n  end_ms: 109430\n- text: Fifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\n  start_ms: 109430\n  end_ms: 112640\n- text: At least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\n  start_ms: 112640\n  end_ms: 115970\n- text: I guess it wasn't meant for us\n  start_ms: 115970\n  end_ms: 117580\n- text: Young niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\n  start_ms: 117580\n  end_ms: 119990\n- text: Seventeen hour drives in a rented truck\n  start_ms: 119990\n  end_ms: 122380\n- text: Take it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\n  start_ms: 122380\n  end_ms: 125620\n- text: Several bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\n  start_ms: 125620\n  end_ms: 129020\n- text: Duffel Bag and Bo Jackson\n  start_ms: 129020\n  end_ms: 130690\n- text: Run over niggas who ain't got no traction\n  start_ms: 130690\n  end_ms: 133090\n- text: Touch down in your city, we dope taxin'\n  start_ms: 133090\n  end_ms: 135310\n- text: Free lunches in Section 8\n  start_ms: 135310\n  end_ms: 136900\n- text: Pray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\n  start_ms: 136900\n  end_ms: 139470\n- text: Blood money in the church's collection plate\n  start_ms: 139470\n  end_ms: 142830\n- text: We gon' disrespect your election date\n  start_ms: 142830\n  end_ms: 145270\n- text: Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  start_ms: 145270\n  end_ms: 148420\n- text: My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  start_ms: 148420\n  end_ms: 151960\n- text: Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  start_ms: 151960\n  end_ms: 154850\n- text: Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  start_ms: 154850\n  end_ms: 157880\n- text: Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  start_ms: 157880\n  end_ms: 161080\n- text: Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  start_ms: 161080\n  end_ms: 165060\n- text: Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n  start_ms: 165060\n  end_ms: 167880\n- text: Call it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\n  start_ms: 167880\n  end_ms: 170570\n- text: Have 'em raisin' the murder rate\n  start_ms: 170570\n  end_ms: 171830\n- text: While I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\n  start_ms: 171830\n  end_ms: 173520\n- text: Flushed away before they rush the plays\n  start_ms: 173520\n  end_ms: 175660\n- text: Before I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\n  start_ms: 175660\n  end_ms: 177440\n- text: Just give me another case, never told\n  start_ms: 177440\n  end_ms: 179680\n- text: Nobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\n  start_ms: 179680\n  end_ms: 183050\n- text: Gotta hustle to make these payments\n  start_ms: 183050\n  end_ms: 184590\n- text: Life on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\n  start_ms: 184590\n  end_ms: 186320\n- text: Tryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\n  start_ms: 186320\n  end_ms: 188380\n- text: My best friend with them rednecks and them racists\n  start_ms: 188380\n  end_ms: 191640\n- text: Got twenty-one in them cages, nigga\n  start_ms: 191640\n  end_ms: 193290\n- text: Faith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\n  start_ms: 193290\n  end_ms: 195860\n- text: Father, I don't have the answer\n  start_ms: 195860\n  end_ms: 197640\n- text: Pissin' out methazine from the Phantom\n  start_ms: 197640\n  end_ms: 199270\n- text: Me and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\n  start_ms: 199270\n  end_ms: 202570\n- text: Afghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\n  start_ms: 202570\n  end_ms: 205650\n- text: Got a bitch that come from Atlanta\n  start_ms: 205650\n  end_ms: 207560\n- text: Bringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\n  start_ms: 207560\n  end_ms: 208960\n- text: Stamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\n  start_ms: 208960\n  end_ms: 210650\n- text: Add some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n  start_ms: 210650\n  end_ms: 213960\n- text: Yeah, damn Gunna\n  start_ms: 213960\n  end_ms: 216720\n- text: I know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n  start_ms: 216720\n  end_ms: 220190\n- text: We gon' disrespect your election date\n  start_ms: 220190\n  end_ms: 223030\n- text: Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  start_ms: 223030\n  end_ms: 225550\n- text: My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  start_ms: 225550\n  end_ms: 229140\n- text: Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  start_ms: 229140\n  end_ms: 232290\n- text: Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  start_ms: 232290\n  end_ms: 235130\n- text: Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  start_ms: 235130\n  end_ms: 238430\n- text: Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  start_ms: 238430\n  end_ms: 242140\n- text: Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n  start_ms: 242140\n  end_ms: 247300\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 247300\nplain: |-\n  One time for the one time\n  Ayy, check\n\n  Me and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\n  Ask my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\n  Don't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\n  Fell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\n  They say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\n  Hood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\n  Think I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\n  Gettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\n  If you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\n  If you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\n  Can't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\n  Bust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\n  Reason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\n  If you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\n  Niggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\n  If me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\n  What else?\n\n  We gon' disrespect your election date\n  Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  My team tight\n  But we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\n  Me and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\n  Nic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\n  My tester said it's pure\n  When it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\n  Granny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\n  Now I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\n  Got pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\n  Fifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\n  At least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\n  I guess it wasn't meant for us\n  Young niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\n  Seventeen hour drives in a rented truck\n  Take it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\n  Several bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\n  Duffel Bag and Bo Jackson\n  Run over niggas who ain't got no traction\n  Touch down in your city, we dope taxin'\n  Free lunches in Section 8\n  Pray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\n  Blood money in the church's collection plate\n\n  We gon' disrespect your election date\n  Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\n  Call it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\n  Have 'em raisin' the murder rate\n  While I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\n  Flushed away before they rush the plays\n  Before I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\n  Just give me another case, never told\n  Nobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\n  Gotta hustle to make these payments\n  Life on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\n  Tryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\n  My best friend with them rednecks and them racists\n  Got twenty-one in them cages, nigga\n  Faith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\n  Father, I don't have the answer\n  Pissin' out methazine from the Phantom\n  Me and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\n  Afghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\n  Got a bitch that come from Atlanta\n  Bringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\n  Stamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\n  Add some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n\n  Yeah, damn Gunna\n  I know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n\n  We gon' disrespect your election date\n  Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n"},{"id":34429472,"name":"COLLECTION PLATES","trackName":"COLLECTION PLATES","artistName":"Ransom (5)","albumName":"Salvation for the Wicked","duration":270.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"One time for the one time\nAyy, check\n\nMe and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\nAsk my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\nDon't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\nFell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\nThey say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\nHood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\nThink I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\nGettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\nIf you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\nIf you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\nCan't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\nBust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\nReason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\nIf you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\nNiggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\nIf me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\nWhat else?\n\nWe gon' disrespect your election date\nTwo bands worth of singles in the collection plate\nMy team tight\nBut we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\nDamn, respect your rations and bless your plates\nOur Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\nShaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\nRest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\nTwo bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\nMe and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\nNic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\nMy tester said it's pure\nWhen it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\nGranny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\nNow I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\nGot pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\nFifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\nAt least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\nI guess it wasn't meant for us\nYoung niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\nSeventeen hour drives in a rented truck\nTake it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\nSeveral bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\nDuffel Bag and Bo Jackson\nRun over niggas who ain't got no traction\nTouch down in your city, we dope taxin'\nFree lunches in Section 8\nPray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\nBlood money in the church's collection plate\n\nWe gon' disrespect your election date\nTwo bands worth of singles in the collection plate\nMy team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\nDamn, respect your rations and bless your plates\nOur Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\nShaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\nRest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\nTwo bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\nCall it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\nHave 'em raisin' the murder rate\nWhile I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\nFlushed away before they rush the plays\nBefore I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\nJust give me another case, never told\nNobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\nGotta hustle to make these payments\nLife on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\nTryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\nMy best friend with them rednecks and them racists\nGot twenty-one in them cages, nigga\nFaith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\nFather, I don't have the answer\nPissin' out methazine from the Phantom\nMe and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\nAfghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\nGot a bitch that come from Atlanta\nBringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\nStamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\nAdd some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n\nYeah, damn Gunna\nI know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n\nWe gon' disrespect your election date\nTwo bands worth of singles in the collection plate\nMy team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\nDamn, respect your rations and bless your plates\nOur Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\nShaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\nRest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\nTwo bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates","syncedLyrics":"[00:03.40] One time for the one time\n[00:08.47] Ayy, check\n[00:13.10] Me and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\n[00:16.38] Ask my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\n[00:19.59] Don't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\n[00:22.24] Fell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\n[00:25.71] They say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\n[00:28.61] Hood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\n[00:31.89] Think I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\n[00:35.01] Gettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\n[00:38.32] If you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\n[00:41.60] If you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\n[00:44.94] Can't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\n[00:47.95] Bust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\n[00:51.50] Reason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\n[00:54.23] If you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\n[00:57.83] Niggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\n[01:00.85] If me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\n[01:05.13] What else?\n[01:05.86] We gon' disrespect your election date\n[01:08.10] Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n[01:11.09] My team tight\n[01:11.75] But we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n[01:14.58] Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n[01:17.70] Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n[01:20.95] Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n[01:23.84] Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n[01:27.65] Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n[01:30.64] Me and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\n[01:33.74] Nic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\n[01:36.78] My tester said it's pure\n[01:37.84] When it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\n[01:39.91] Granny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\n[01:43.27] Now I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\n[01:46.23] Got pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\n[01:49.43] Fifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\n[01:52.64] At least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\n[01:55.97] I guess it wasn't meant for us\n[01:57.58] Young niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\n[01:59.99] Seventeen hour drives in a rented truck\n[02:02.38] Take it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\n[02:05.62] Several bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\n[02:09.02] Duffel Bag and Bo Jackson\n[02:10.69] Run over niggas who ain't got no traction\n[02:13.09] Touch down in your city, we dope taxin'\n[02:15.31] Free lunches in Section 8\n[02:16.90] Pray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\n[02:19.47] Blood money in the church's collection plate\n[02:22.83] We gon' disrespect your election date\n[02:25.27] Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n[02:28.42] My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n[02:31.96] Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n[02:34.85] Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n[02:37.88] Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n[02:41.08] Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n[02:45.06] Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n[02:47.88] Call it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\n[02:50.57] Have 'em raisin' the murder rate\n[02:51.83] While I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\n[02:53.52] Flushed away before they rush the plays\n[02:55.66] Before I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\n[02:57.44] Just give me another case, never told\n[02:59.68] Nobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\n[03:03.05] Gotta hustle to make these payments\n[03:04.59] Life on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\n[03:06.32] Tryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\n[03:08.38] My best friend with them rednecks and them racists\n[03:11.64] Got twenty-one in them cages, nigga\n[03:13.29] Faith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\n[03:15.86] Father, I don't have the answer\n[03:17.64] Pissin' out methazine from the Phantom\n[03:19.27] Me and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\n[03:22.57] Afghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\n[03:25.65] Got a bitch that come from Atlanta\n[03:27.56] Bringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\n[03:28.96] Stamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\n[03:30.65] Add some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n[03:33.96] Yeah, damn Gunna\n[03:36.72] I know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n[03:40.19] We gon' disrespect your election date\n[03:43.03] Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n[03:45.55] My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n[03:49.14] Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n[03:52.29] Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n[03:55.13] Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n[03:58.43] Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n[04:02.14] Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n[04:07.30] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: COLLECTION PLATES\n  artist: Ransom (5)\n  album: Salvation for the Wicked\n  duration_ms: 270000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: One time for the one time\n  start_ms: 3400\n  end_ms: 8470\n- text: Ayy, check\n  start_ms: 8470\n  end_ms: 13100\n- text: Me and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\n  start_ms: 13100\n  end_ms: 16380\n- text: Ask my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\n  start_ms: 16380\n  end_ms: 19590\n- text: Don't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\n  start_ms: 19590\n  end_ms: 22240\n- text: Fell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\n  start_ms: 22240\n  end_ms: 25710\n- text: They say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\n  start_ms: 25710\n  end_ms: 28610\n- text: Hood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\n  start_ms: 28610\n  end_ms: 31890\n- text: Think I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\n  start_ms: 31890\n  end_ms: 35010\n- text: Gettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\n  start_ms: 35010\n  end_ms: 38320\n- text: If you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\n  start_ms: 38320\n  end_ms: 41600\n- text: If you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\n  start_ms: 41600\n  end_ms: 44940\n- text: Can't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\n  start_ms: 44940\n  end_ms: 47950\n- text: Bust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\n  start_ms: 47950\n  end_ms: 51500\n- text: Reason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\n  start_ms: 51500\n  end_ms: 54230\n- text: If you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\n  start_ms: 54230\n  end_ms: 57830\n- text: Niggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\n  start_ms: 57830\n  end_ms: 60850\n- text: If me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\n  start_ms: 60850\n  end_ms: 65130\n- text: What else?\n  start_ms: 65130\n  end_ms: 65860\n- text: We gon' disrespect your election date\n  start_ms: 65860\n  end_ms: 68100\n- text: Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  start_ms: 68100\n  end_ms: 71090\n- text: My team tight\n  start_ms: 71090\n  end_ms: 71750\n- text: But we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  start_ms: 71750\n  end_ms: 74580\n- text: Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  start_ms: 74580\n  end_ms: 77700\n- text: Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  start_ms: 77700\n  end_ms: 80950\n- text: Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  start_ms: 80950\n  end_ms: 83840\n- text: Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  start_ms: 83840\n  end_ms: 87650\n- text: Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n  start_ms: 87650\n  end_ms: 90640\n- text: Me and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\n  start_ms: 90640\n  end_ms: 93740\n- text: Nic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\n  start_ms: 93740\n  end_ms: 96780\n- text: My tester said it's pure\n  start_ms: 96780\n  end_ms: 97840\n- text: When it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\n  start_ms: 97840\n  end_ms: 99910\n- text: Granny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\n  start_ms: 99910\n  end_ms: 103270\n- text: Now I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\n  start_ms: 103270\n  end_ms: 106230\n- text: Got pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\n  start_ms: 106230\n  end_ms: 109430\n- text: Fifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\n  start_ms: 109430\n  end_ms: 112640\n- text: At least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\n  start_ms: 112640\n  end_ms: 115970\n- text: I guess it wasn't meant for us\n  start_ms: 115970\n  end_ms: 117580\n- text: Young niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\n  start_ms: 117580\n  end_ms: 119990\n- text: Seventeen hour drives in a rented truck\n  start_ms: 119990\n  end_ms: 122380\n- text: Take it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\n  start_ms: 122380\n  end_ms: 125620\n- text: Several bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\n  start_ms: 125620\n  end_ms: 129020\n- text: Duffel Bag and Bo Jackson\n  start_ms: 129020\n  end_ms: 130690\n- text: Run over niggas who ain't got no traction\n  start_ms: 130690\n  end_ms: 133090\n- text: Touch down in your city, we dope taxin'\n  start_ms: 133090\n  end_ms: 135310\n- text: Free lunches in Section 8\n  start_ms: 135310\n  end_ms: 136900\n- text: Pray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\n  start_ms: 136900\n  end_ms: 139470\n- text: Blood money in the church's collection plate\n  start_ms: 139470\n  end_ms: 142830\n- text: We gon' disrespect your election date\n  start_ms: 142830\n  end_ms: 145270\n- text: Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  start_ms: 145270\n  end_ms: 148420\n- text: My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  start_ms: 148420\n  end_ms: 151960\n- text: Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  start_ms: 151960\n  end_ms: 154850\n- text: Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  start_ms: 154850\n  end_ms: 157880\n- text: Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  start_ms: 157880\n  end_ms: 161080\n- text: Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  start_ms: 161080\n  end_ms: 165060\n- text: Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n  start_ms: 165060\n  end_ms: 167880\n- text: Call it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\n  start_ms: 167880\n  end_ms: 170570\n- text: Have 'em raisin' the murder rate\n  start_ms: 170570\n  end_ms: 171830\n- text: While I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\n  start_ms: 171830\n  end_ms: 173520\n- text: Flushed away before they rush the plays\n  start_ms: 173520\n  end_ms: 175660\n- text: Before I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\n  start_ms: 175660\n  end_ms: 177440\n- text: Just give me another case, never told\n  start_ms: 177440\n  end_ms: 179680\n- text: Nobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\n  start_ms: 179680\n  end_ms: 183050\n- text: Gotta hustle to make these payments\n  start_ms: 183050\n  end_ms: 184590\n- text: Life on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\n  start_ms: 184590\n  end_ms: 186320\n- text: Tryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\n  start_ms: 186320\n  end_ms: 188380\n- text: My best friend with them rednecks and them racists\n  start_ms: 188380\n  end_ms: 191640\n- text: Got twenty-one in them cages, nigga\n  start_ms: 191640\n  end_ms: 193290\n- text: Faith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\n  start_ms: 193290\n  end_ms: 195860\n- text: Father, I don't have the answer\n  start_ms: 195860\n  end_ms: 197640\n- text: Pissin' out methazine from the Phantom\n  start_ms: 197640\n  end_ms: 199270\n- text: Me and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\n  start_ms: 199270\n  end_ms: 202570\n- text: Afghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\n  start_ms: 202570\n  end_ms: 205650\n- text: Got a bitch that come from Atlanta\n  start_ms: 205650\n  end_ms: 207560\n- text: Bringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\n  start_ms: 207560\n  end_ms: 208960\n- text: Stamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\n  start_ms: 208960\n  end_ms: 210650\n- text: Add some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n  start_ms: 210650\n  end_ms: 213960\n- text: Yeah, damn Gunna\n  start_ms: 213960\n  end_ms: 216720\n- text: I know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n  start_ms: 216720\n  end_ms: 220190\n- text: We gon' disrespect your election date\n  start_ms: 220190\n  end_ms: 223030\n- text: Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  start_ms: 223030\n  end_ms: 225550\n- text: My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  start_ms: 225550\n  end_ms: 229140\n- text: Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  start_ms: 229140\n  end_ms: 232290\n- text: Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  start_ms: 232290\n  end_ms: 235130\n- text: Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  start_ms: 235130\n  end_ms: 238430\n- text: Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  start_ms: 238430\n  end_ms: 242140\n- text: Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n  start_ms: 242140\n  end_ms: 247300\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 247300\nplain: |-\n  One time for the one time\n  Ayy, check\n\n  Me and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\n  Ask my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\n  Don't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\n  Fell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\n  They say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\n  Hood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\n  Think I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\n  Gettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\n  If you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\n  If you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\n  Can't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\n  Bust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\n  Reason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\n  If you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\n  Niggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\n  If me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\n  What else?\n\n  We gon' disrespect your election date\n  Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  My team tight\n  But we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\n  Me and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\n  Nic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\n  My tester said it's pure\n  When it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\n  Granny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\n  Now I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\n  Got pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\n  Fifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\n  At least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\n  I guess it wasn't meant for us\n  Young niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\n  Seventeen hour drives in a rented truck\n  Take it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\n  Several bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\n  Duffel Bag and Bo Jackson\n  Run over niggas who ain't got no traction\n  Touch down in your city, we dope taxin'\n  Free lunches in Section 8\n  Pray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\n  Blood money in the church's collection plate\n\n  We gon' disrespect your election date\n  Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\n  Call it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\n  Have 'em raisin' the murder rate\n  While I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\n  Flushed away before they rush the plays\n  Before I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\n  Just give me another case, never told\n  Nobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\n  Gotta hustle to make these payments\n  Life on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\n  Tryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\n  My best friend with them rednecks and them racists\n  Got twenty-one in them cages, nigga\n  Faith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\n  Father, I don't have the answer\n  Pissin' out methazine from the Phantom\n  Me and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\n  Afghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\n  Got a bitch that come from Atlanta\n  Bringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\n  Stamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\n  Add some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n\n  Yeah, damn Gunna\n  I know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n\n  We gon' disrespect your election date\n  Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n"},{"id":30330449,"name":"COLLECTION PLATES","trackName":"COLLECTION PLATES","artistName":"Ransom, Boldy James, Nicholas Craven, Young Chris","albumName":"Salvation For The Wicked","duration":271.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"One time for the one time\nAyy, check\n\nMe and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\nAsk my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\nDon't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\nFell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\nThey say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\nHood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\nThink I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\nGettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\nIf you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\nIf you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\nCan't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\nBust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\nReason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\nIf you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\nNiggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\nIf me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\nWhat else?\n\nWe gon' disrespect your election date\nTwo bands worth of singles in the collection plate\nMy team tight\nBut we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\nDamn, respect your rations and bless your plates\nOur Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\nShaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\nRest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\nTwo bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\nMe and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\nNic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\nMy tester said it's pure\nWhen it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\nGranny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\nNow I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\nGot pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\nFifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\nAt least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\nI guess it wasn't meant for us\nYoung niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\nSeventeen hour drives in a rented truck\nTake it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\nSeveral bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\nDuffel Bag and Bo Jackson\nRun over niggas who ain't got no traction\nTouch down in your city, we dope taxin'\nFree lunches in Section 8\nPray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\nBlood money in the church's collection plate\n\nWe gon' disrespect your election date\nTwo bands worth of singles in the collection plate\nMy team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\nDamn, respect your rations and bless your plates\nOur Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\nShaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\nRest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\nTwo bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\nCall it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\nHave 'em raisin' the murder rate\nWhile I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\nFlushed away before they rush the plays\nBefore I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\nJust give me another case, never told\nNobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\nGotta hustle to make these payments\nLife on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\nTryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\nMy best friend with them rednecks and them racists\nGot twenty-one in them cages, nigga\nFaith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\nFather, I don't have the answer\nPissin' out methazine from the Phantom\nMe and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\nAfghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\nGot a bitch that come from Atlanta\nBringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\nStamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\nAdd some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n\nYeah, damn Gunna\nI know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n\nWe gon' disrespect your election date\nTwo bands worth of singles in the collection plate\nMy team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\nDamn, respect your rations and bless your plates\nOur Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\nShaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\nRest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\nTwo bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates","syncedLyrics":"[00:03.40] One time for the one time\n[00:08.47] Ayy, check\n[00:13.10] Me and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\n[00:16.38] Ask my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\n[00:19.59] Don't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\n[00:22.24] Fell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\n[00:25.71] They say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\n[00:28.61] Hood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\n[00:31.89] Think I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\n[00:35.01] Gettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\n[00:38.32] If you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\n[00:41.60] If you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\n[00:44.94] Can't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\n[00:47.95] Bust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\n[00:51.50] Reason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\n[00:54.23] If you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\n[00:57.83] Niggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\n[01:00.85] If me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\n[01:05.13] What else?\n[01:05.86] We gon' disrespect your election date\n[01:08.10] Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n[01:11.09] My team tight\n[01:11.75] But we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n[01:14.58] Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n[01:17.70] Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n[01:20.95] Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n[01:23.84] Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n[01:27.65] Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n[01:30.64] Me and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\n[01:33.74] Nic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\n[01:36.78] My tester said it's pure\n[01:37.84] When it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\n[01:39.91] Granny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\n[01:43.27] Now I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\n[01:46.23] Got pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\n[01:49.43] Fifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\n[01:52.64] At least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\n[01:55.97] I guess it wasn't meant for us\n[01:57.58] Young niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\n[01:59.99] Seventeen hour drives in a rented truck\n[02:02.38] Take it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\n[02:05.62] Several bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\n[02:09.02] Duffel Bag and Bo Jackson\n[02:10.69] Run over niggas who ain't got no traction\n[02:13.09] Touch down in your city, we dope taxin'\n[02:15.31] Free lunches in Section 8\n[02:16.90] Pray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\n[02:19.47] Blood money in the church's collection plate\n[02:22.83] We gon' disrespect your election date\n[02:25.27] Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n[02:28.42] My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n[02:31.96] Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n[02:34.85] Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n[02:37.88] Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n[02:41.08] Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n[02:45.06] Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n[02:47.88] Call it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\n[02:50.57] Have 'em raisin' the murder rate\n[02:51.83] While I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\n[02:53.52] Flushed away before they rush the plays\n[02:55.66] Before I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\n[02:57.44] Just give me another case, never told\n[02:59.68] Nobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\n[03:03.05] Gotta hustle to make these payments\n[03:04.59] Life on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\n[03:06.32] Tryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\n[03:08.38] My best friend with them rednecks and them racists\n[03:11.64] Got twenty-one in them cages, nigga\n[03:13.29] Faith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\n[03:15.86] Father, I don't have the answer\n[03:17.64] Pissin' out methazine from the Phantom\n[03:19.27] Me and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\n[03:22.57] Afghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\n[03:25.65] Got a bitch that come from Atlanta\n[03:27.56] Bringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\n[03:28.96] Stamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\n[03:30.65] Add some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n[03:33.96] Yeah, damn Gunna\n[03:36.72] I know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n[03:40.19] We gon' disrespect your election date\n[03:43.03] Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n[03:45.55] My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n[03:49.14] Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n[03:52.29] Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n[03:55.13] Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n[03:58.43] Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n[04:02.14] Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n[04:07.30] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: COLLECTION PLATES\n  artist: Ransom, Boldy James, Nicholas Craven, Young Chris\n  album: Salvation For The Wicked\n  duration_ms: 271000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: One time for the one time\n  start_ms: 3400\n  end_ms: 8470\n- text: Ayy, check\n  start_ms: 8470\n  end_ms: 13100\n- text: Me and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\n  start_ms: 13100\n  end_ms: 16380\n- text: Ask my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\n  start_ms: 16380\n  end_ms: 19590\n- text: Don't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\n  start_ms: 19590\n  end_ms: 22240\n- text: Fell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\n  start_ms: 22240\n  end_ms: 25710\n- text: They say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\n  start_ms: 25710\n  end_ms: 28610\n- text: Hood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\n  start_ms: 28610\n  end_ms: 31890\n- text: Think I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\n  start_ms: 31890\n  end_ms: 35010\n- text: Gettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\n  start_ms: 35010\n  end_ms: 38320\n- text: If you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\n  start_ms: 38320\n  end_ms: 41600\n- text: If you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\n  start_ms: 41600\n  end_ms: 44940\n- text: Can't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\n  start_ms: 44940\n  end_ms: 47950\n- text: Bust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\n  start_ms: 47950\n  end_ms: 51500\n- text: Reason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\n  start_ms: 51500\n  end_ms: 54230\n- text: If you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\n  start_ms: 54230\n  end_ms: 57830\n- text: Niggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\n  start_ms: 57830\n  end_ms: 60850\n- text: If me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\n  start_ms: 60850\n  end_ms: 65130\n- text: What else?\n  start_ms: 65130\n  end_ms: 65860\n- text: We gon' disrespect your election date\n  start_ms: 65860\n  end_ms: 68100\n- text: Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  start_ms: 68100\n  end_ms: 71090\n- text: My team tight\n  start_ms: 71090\n  end_ms: 71750\n- text: But we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  start_ms: 71750\n  end_ms: 74580\n- text: Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  start_ms: 74580\n  end_ms: 77700\n- text: Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  start_ms: 77700\n  end_ms: 80950\n- text: Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  start_ms: 80950\n  end_ms: 83840\n- text: Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  start_ms: 83840\n  end_ms: 87650\n- text: Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n  start_ms: 87650\n  end_ms: 90640\n- text: Me and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\n  start_ms: 90640\n  end_ms: 93740\n- text: Nic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\n  start_ms: 93740\n  end_ms: 96780\n- text: My tester said it's pure\n  start_ms: 96780\n  end_ms: 97840\n- text: When it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\n  start_ms: 97840\n  end_ms: 99910\n- text: Granny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\n  start_ms: 99910\n  end_ms: 103270\n- text: Now I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\n  start_ms: 103270\n  end_ms: 106230\n- text: Got pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\n  start_ms: 106230\n  end_ms: 109430\n- text: Fifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\n  start_ms: 109430\n  end_ms: 112640\n- text: At least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\n  start_ms: 112640\n  end_ms: 115970\n- text: I guess it wasn't meant for us\n  start_ms: 115970\n  end_ms: 117580\n- text: Young niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\n  start_ms: 117580\n  end_ms: 119990\n- text: Seventeen hour drives in a rented truck\n  start_ms: 119990\n  end_ms: 122380\n- text: Take it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\n  start_ms: 122380\n  end_ms: 125620\n- text: Several bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\n  start_ms: 125620\n  end_ms: 129020\n- text: Duffel Bag and Bo Jackson\n  start_ms: 129020\n  end_ms: 130690\n- text: Run over niggas who ain't got no traction\n  start_ms: 130690\n  end_ms: 133090\n- text: Touch down in your city, we dope taxin'\n  start_ms: 133090\n  end_ms: 135310\n- text: Free lunches in Section 8\n  start_ms: 135310\n  end_ms: 136900\n- text: Pray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\n  start_ms: 136900\n  end_ms: 139470\n- text: Blood money in the church's collection plate\n  start_ms: 139470\n  end_ms: 142830\n- text: We gon' disrespect your election date\n  start_ms: 142830\n  end_ms: 145270\n- text: Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  start_ms: 145270\n  end_ms: 148420\n- text: My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  start_ms: 148420\n  end_ms: 151960\n- text: Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  start_ms: 151960\n  end_ms: 154850\n- text: Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  start_ms: 154850\n  end_ms: 157880\n- text: Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  start_ms: 157880\n  end_ms: 161080\n- text: Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  start_ms: 161080\n  end_ms: 165060\n- text: Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n  start_ms: 165060\n  end_ms: 167880\n- text: Call it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\n  start_ms: 167880\n  end_ms: 170570\n- text: Have 'em raisin' the murder rate\n  start_ms: 170570\n  end_ms: 171830\n- text: While I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\n  start_ms: 171830\n  end_ms: 173520\n- text: Flushed away before they rush the plays\n  start_ms: 173520\n  end_ms: 175660\n- text: Before I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\n  start_ms: 175660\n  end_ms: 177440\n- text: Just give me another case, never told\n  start_ms: 177440\n  end_ms: 179680\n- text: Nobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\n  start_ms: 179680\n  end_ms: 183050\n- text: Gotta hustle to make these payments\n  start_ms: 183050\n  end_ms: 184590\n- text: Life on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\n  start_ms: 184590\n  end_ms: 186320\n- text: Tryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\n  start_ms: 186320\n  end_ms: 188380\n- text: My best friend with them rednecks and them racists\n  start_ms: 188380\n  end_ms: 191640\n- text: Got twenty-one in them cages, nigga\n  start_ms: 191640\n  end_ms: 193290\n- text: Faith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\n  start_ms: 193290\n  end_ms: 195860\n- text: Father, I don't have the answer\n  start_ms: 195860\n  end_ms: 197640\n- text: Pissin' out methazine from the Phantom\n  start_ms: 197640\n  end_ms: 199270\n- text: Me and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\n  start_ms: 199270\n  end_ms: 202570\n- text: Afghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\n  start_ms: 202570\n  end_ms: 205650\n- text: Got a bitch that come from Atlanta\n  start_ms: 205650\n  end_ms: 207560\n- text: Bringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\n  start_ms: 207560\n  end_ms: 208960\n- text: Stamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\n  start_ms: 208960\n  end_ms: 210650\n- text: Add some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n  start_ms: 210650\n  end_ms: 213960\n- text: Yeah, damn Gunna\n  start_ms: 213960\n  end_ms: 216720\n- text: I know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n  start_ms: 216720\n  end_ms: 220190\n- text: We gon' disrespect your election date\n  start_ms: 220190\n  end_ms: 223030\n- text: Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  start_ms: 223030\n  end_ms: 225550\n- text: My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  start_ms: 225550\n  end_ms: 229140\n- text: Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  start_ms: 229140\n  end_ms: 232290\n- text: Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  start_ms: 232290\n  end_ms: 235130\n- text: Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  start_ms: 235130\n  end_ms: 238430\n- text: Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  start_ms: 238430\n  end_ms: 242140\n- text: Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n  start_ms: 242140\n  end_ms: 247300\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 247300\nplain: |-\n  One time for the one time\n  Ayy, check\n\n  Me and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\n  Ask my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\n  Don't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\n  Fell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\n  They say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\n  Hood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\n  Think I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\n  Gettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\n  If you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\n  If you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\n  Can't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\n  Bust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\n  Reason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\n  If you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\n  Niggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\n  If me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\n  What else?\n\n  We gon' disrespect your election date\n  Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  My team tight\n  But we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\n  Me and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\n  Nic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\n  My tester said it's pure\n  When it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\n  Granny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\n  Now I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\n  Got pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\n  Fifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\n  At least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\n  I guess it wasn't meant for us\n  Young niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\n  Seventeen hour drives in a rented truck\n  Take it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\n  Several bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\n  Duffel Bag and Bo Jackson\n  Run over niggas who ain't got no traction\n  Touch down in your city, we dope taxin'\n  Free lunches in Section 8\n  Pray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\n  Blood money in the church's collection plate\n\n  We gon' disrespect your election date\n  Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\n  Call it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\n  Have 'em raisin' the murder rate\n  While I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\n  Flushed away before they rush the plays\n  Before I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\n  Just give me another case, never told\n  Nobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\n  Gotta hustle to make these payments\n  Life on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\n  Tryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\n  My best friend with them rednecks and them racists\n  Got twenty-one in them cages, nigga\n  Faith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\n  Father, I don't have the answer\n  Pissin' out methazine from the Phantom\n  Me and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\n  Afghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\n  Got a bitch that come from Atlanta\n  Bringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\n  Stamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\n  Add some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n\n  Yeah, damn Gunna\n  I know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n\n  We gon' disrespect your election date\n  Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n"},{"id":33905758,"name":"Collection Plates","trackName":"Collection Plates","artistName":"Ransom x Boldy James x Nicholas Craven feat. Young Chris","albumName":"Salvation for the Wicked","duration":271.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"One time for the one time\nAyy, check\n\nMe and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\nAsk my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\nDon't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\nFell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\nThey say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\nHood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\nThink I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\nGettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\nIf you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\nIf you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\nCan't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\nBust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\nReason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\nIf you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\nNiggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\nIf me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\nWhat else?\n\nWe gon' disrespect your election date\nTwo bands worth of singles in the collection plate\nMy team tight\nBut we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\nDamn, respect your rations and bless your plates\nOur Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\nShaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\nRest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\nTwo bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\nMe and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\nNic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\nMy tester said it's pure\nWhen it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\nGranny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\nNow I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\nGot pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\nFifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\nAt least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\nI guess it wasn't meant for us\nYoung niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\nSeventeen hour drives in a rented truck\nTake it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\nSeveral bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\nDuffel Bag and Bo Jackson\nRun over niggas who ain't got no traction\nTouch down in your city, we dope taxin'\nFree lunches in Section 8\nPray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\nBlood money in the church's collection plate\n\nWe gon' disrespect your election date\nTwo bands worth of singles in the collection plate\nMy team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\nDamn, respect your rations and bless your plates\nOur Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\nShaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\nRest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\nTwo bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\nCall it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\nHave 'em raisin' the murder rate\nWhile I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\nFlushed away before they rush the plays\nBefore I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\nJust give me another case, never told\nNobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\nGotta hustle to make these payments\nLife on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\nTryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\nMy best friend with them rednecks and them racists\nGot twenty-one in them cages, nigga\nFaith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\nFather, I don't have the answer\nPissin' out methazine from the Phantom\nMe and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\nAfghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\nGot a bitch that come from Atlanta\nBringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\nStamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\nAdd some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n\nYeah, damn Gunna\nI know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n\nWe gon' disrespect your election date\nTwo bands worth of singles in the collection plate\nMy team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\nDamn, respect your rations and bless your plates\nOur Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\nShaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\nRest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\nTwo bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates","syncedLyrics":"[00:03.40] One time for the one time\n[00:08.47] Ayy, check\n[00:13.10] Me and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\n[00:16.38] Ask my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\n[00:19.59] Don't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\n[00:22.24] Fell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\n[00:25.71] They say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\n[00:28.61] Hood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\n[00:31.89] Think I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\n[00:35.01] Gettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\n[00:38.32] If you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\n[00:41.60] If you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\n[00:44.94] Can't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\n[00:47.95] Bust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\n[00:51.50] Reason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\n[00:54.23] If you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\n[00:57.83] Niggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\n[01:00.85] If me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\n[01:05.13] What else?\n[01:05.86] We gon' disrespect your election date\n[01:08.10] Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n[01:11.09] My team tight\n[01:11.75] But we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n[01:14.58] Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n[01:17.70] Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n[01:20.95] Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n[01:23.84] Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n[01:27.65] Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n[01:30.64] Me and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\n[01:33.74] Nic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\n[01:36.78] My tester said it's pure\n[01:37.84] When it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\n[01:39.91] Granny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\n[01:43.27] Now I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\n[01:46.23] Got pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\n[01:49.43] Fifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\n[01:52.64] At least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\n[01:55.97] I guess it wasn't meant for us\n[01:57.58] Young niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\n[01:59.99] Seventeen hour drives in a rented truck\n[02:02.38] Take it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\n[02:05.62] Several bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\n[02:09.02] Duffel Bag and Bo Jackson\n[02:10.69] Run over niggas who ain't got no traction\n[02:13.09] Touch down in your city, we dope taxin'\n[02:15.31] Free lunches in Section 8\n[02:16.90] Pray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\n[02:19.47] Blood money in the church's collection plate\n[02:22.83] We gon' disrespect your election date\n[02:25.27] Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n[02:28.42] My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n[02:31.96] Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n[02:34.85] Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n[02:37.88] Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n[02:41.08] Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n[02:45.06] Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n[02:47.88] Call it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\n[02:50.57] Have 'em raisin' the murder rate\n[02:51.83] While I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\n[02:53.52] Flushed away before they rush the plays\n[02:55.66] Before I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\n[02:57.44] Just give me another case, never told\n[02:59.68] Nobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\n[03:03.05] Gotta hustle to make these payments\n[03:04.59] Life on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\n[03:06.32] Tryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\n[03:08.38] My best friend with them rednecks and them racists\n[03:11.64] Got twenty-one in them cages, nigga\n[03:13.29] Faith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\n[03:15.86] Father, I don't have the answer\n[03:17.64] Pissin' out methazine from the Phantom\n[03:19.27] Me and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\n[03:22.57] Afghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\n[03:25.65] Got a bitch that come from Atlanta\n[03:27.56] Bringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\n[03:28.96] Stamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\n[03:30.65] Add some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n[03:33.96] Yeah, damn Gunna\n[03:36.72] I know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n[03:40.19] We gon' disrespect your election date\n[03:43.03] Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n[03:45.55] My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n[03:49.14] Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n[03:52.29] Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n[03:55.13] Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n[03:58.43] Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n[04:02.14] Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n[04:07.30] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Collection Plates\n  artist: Ransom x Boldy James x Nicholas Craven feat. Young Chris\n  album: Salvation for the Wicked\n  duration_ms: 271000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: One time for the one time\n  start_ms: 3400\n  end_ms: 8470\n- text: Ayy, check\n  start_ms: 8470\n  end_ms: 13100\n- text: Me and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\n  start_ms: 13100\n  end_ms: 16380\n- text: Ask my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\n  start_ms: 16380\n  end_ms: 19590\n- text: Don't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\n  start_ms: 19590\n  end_ms: 22240\n- text: Fell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\n  start_ms: 22240\n  end_ms: 25710\n- text: They say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\n  start_ms: 25710\n  end_ms: 28610\n- text: Hood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\n  start_ms: 28610\n  end_ms: 31890\n- text: Think I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\n  start_ms: 31890\n  end_ms: 35010\n- text: Gettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\n  start_ms: 35010\n  end_ms: 38320\n- text: If you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\n  start_ms: 38320\n  end_ms: 41600\n- text: If you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\n  start_ms: 41600\n  end_ms: 44940\n- text: Can't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\n  start_ms: 44940\n  end_ms: 47950\n- text: Bust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\n  start_ms: 47950\n  end_ms: 51500\n- text: Reason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\n  start_ms: 51500\n  end_ms: 54230\n- text: If you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\n  start_ms: 54230\n  end_ms: 57830\n- text: Niggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\n  start_ms: 57830\n  end_ms: 60850\n- text: If me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\n  start_ms: 60850\n  end_ms: 65130\n- text: What else?\n  start_ms: 65130\n  end_ms: 65860\n- text: We gon' disrespect your election date\n  start_ms: 65860\n  end_ms: 68100\n- text: Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  start_ms: 68100\n  end_ms: 71090\n- text: My team tight\n  start_ms: 71090\n  end_ms: 71750\n- text: But we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  start_ms: 71750\n  end_ms: 74580\n- text: Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  start_ms: 74580\n  end_ms: 77700\n- text: Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  start_ms: 77700\n  end_ms: 80950\n- text: Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  start_ms: 80950\n  end_ms: 83840\n- text: Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  start_ms: 83840\n  end_ms: 87650\n- text: Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n  start_ms: 87650\n  end_ms: 90640\n- text: Me and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\n  start_ms: 90640\n  end_ms: 93740\n- text: Nic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\n  start_ms: 93740\n  end_ms: 96780\n- text: My tester said it's pure\n  start_ms: 96780\n  end_ms: 97840\n- text: When it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\n  start_ms: 97840\n  end_ms: 99910\n- text: Granny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\n  start_ms: 99910\n  end_ms: 103270\n- text: Now I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\n  start_ms: 103270\n  end_ms: 106230\n- text: Got pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\n  start_ms: 106230\n  end_ms: 109430\n- text: Fifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\n  start_ms: 109430\n  end_ms: 112640\n- text: At least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\n  start_ms: 112640\n  end_ms: 115970\n- text: I guess it wasn't meant for us\n  start_ms: 115970\n  end_ms: 117580\n- text: Young niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\n  start_ms: 117580\n  end_ms: 119990\n- text: Seventeen hour drives in a rented truck\n  start_ms: 119990\n  end_ms: 122380\n- text: Take it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\n  start_ms: 122380\n  end_ms: 125620\n- text: Several bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\n  start_ms: 125620\n  end_ms: 129020\n- text: Duffel Bag and Bo Jackson\n  start_ms: 129020\n  end_ms: 130690\n- text: Run over niggas who ain't got no traction\n  start_ms: 130690\n  end_ms: 133090\n- text: Touch down in your city, we dope taxin'\n  start_ms: 133090\n  end_ms: 135310\n- text: Free lunches in Section 8\n  start_ms: 135310\n  end_ms: 136900\n- text: Pray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\n  start_ms: 136900\n  end_ms: 139470\n- text: Blood money in the church's collection plate\n  start_ms: 139470\n  end_ms: 142830\n- text: We gon' disrespect your election date\n  start_ms: 142830\n  end_ms: 145270\n- text: Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  start_ms: 145270\n  end_ms: 148420\n- text: My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  start_ms: 148420\n  end_ms: 151960\n- text: Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  start_ms: 151960\n  end_ms: 154850\n- text: Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  start_ms: 154850\n  end_ms: 157880\n- text: Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  start_ms: 157880\n  end_ms: 161080\n- text: Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  start_ms: 161080\n  end_ms: 165060\n- text: Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n  start_ms: 165060\n  end_ms: 167880\n- text: Call it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\n  start_ms: 167880\n  end_ms: 170570\n- text: Have 'em raisin' the murder rate\n  start_ms: 170570\n  end_ms: 171830\n- text: While I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\n  start_ms: 171830\n  end_ms: 173520\n- text: Flushed away before they rush the plays\n  start_ms: 173520\n  end_ms: 175660\n- text: Before I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\n  start_ms: 175660\n  end_ms: 177440\n- text: Just give me another case, never told\n  start_ms: 177440\n  end_ms: 179680\n- text: Nobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\n  start_ms: 179680\n  end_ms: 183050\n- text: Gotta hustle to make these payments\n  start_ms: 183050\n  end_ms: 184590\n- text: Life on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\n  start_ms: 184590\n  end_ms: 186320\n- text: Tryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\n  start_ms: 186320\n  end_ms: 188380\n- text: My best friend with them rednecks and them racists\n  start_ms: 188380\n  end_ms: 191640\n- text: Got twenty-one in them cages, nigga\n  start_ms: 191640\n  end_ms: 193290\n- text: Faith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\n  start_ms: 193290\n  end_ms: 195860\n- text: Father, I don't have the answer\n  start_ms: 195860\n  end_ms: 197640\n- text: Pissin' out methazine from the Phantom\n  start_ms: 197640\n  end_ms: 199270\n- text: Me and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\n  start_ms: 199270\n  end_ms: 202570\n- text: Afghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\n  start_ms: 202570\n  end_ms: 205650\n- text: Got a bitch that come from Atlanta\n  start_ms: 205650\n  end_ms: 207560\n- text: Bringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\n  start_ms: 207560\n  end_ms: 208960\n- text: Stamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\n  start_ms: 208960\n  end_ms: 210650\n- text: Add some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n  start_ms: 210650\n  end_ms: 213960\n- text: Yeah, damn Gunna\n  start_ms: 213960\n  end_ms: 216720\n- text: I know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n  start_ms: 216720\n  end_ms: 220190\n- text: We gon' disrespect your election date\n  start_ms: 220190\n  end_ms: 223030\n- text: Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  start_ms: 223030\n  end_ms: 225550\n- text: My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  start_ms: 225550\n  end_ms: 229140\n- text: Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  start_ms: 229140\n  end_ms: 232290\n- text: Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  start_ms: 232290\n  end_ms: 235130\n- text: Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  start_ms: 235130\n  end_ms: 238430\n- text: Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  start_ms: 238430\n  end_ms: 242140\n- text: Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n  start_ms: 242140\n  end_ms: 247300\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 247300\nplain: |-\n  One time for the one time\n  Ayy, check\n\n  Me and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\n  Ask my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\n  Don't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\n  Fell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\n  They say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\n  Hood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\n  Think I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\n  Gettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\n  If you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\n  If you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\n  Can't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\n  Bust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\n  Reason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\n  If you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\n  Niggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\n  If me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\n  What else?\n\n  We gon' disrespect your election date\n  Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  My team tight\n  But we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\n  Me and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\n  Nic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\n  My tester said it's pure\n  When it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\n  Granny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\n  Now I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\n  Got pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\n  Fifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\n  At least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\n  I guess it wasn't meant for us\n  Young niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\n  Seventeen hour drives in a rented truck\n  Take it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\n  Several bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\n  Duffel Bag and Bo Jackson\n  Run over niggas who ain't got no traction\n  Touch down in your city, we dope taxin'\n  Free lunches in Section 8\n  Pray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\n  Blood money in the church's collection plate\n\n  We gon' disrespect your election date\n  Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\n  Call it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\n  Have 'em raisin' the murder rate\n  While I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\n  Flushed away before they rush the plays\n  Before I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\n  Just give me another case, never told\n  Nobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\n  Gotta hustle to make these payments\n  Life on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\n  Tryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\n  My best friend with them rednecks and them racists\n  Got twenty-one in them cages, nigga\n  Faith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\n  Father, I don't have the answer\n  Pissin' out methazine from the Phantom\n  Me and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\n  Afghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\n  Got a bitch that come from Atlanta\n  Bringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\n  Stamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\n  Add some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n\n  Yeah, damn Gunna\n  I know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n\n  We gon' disrespect your election date\n  Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n"},{"id":35596609,"name":"COLLECTION PLATES (feat. Young Chris)","trackName":"COLLECTION PLATES (feat. Young Chris)","artistName":"Ransom, Boldy James, Nicholas Craven, Young Chris","albumName":"Salvation for the Wicked","duration":275.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"One time for the one time\nAyy, check\n\nMe and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\nAsk my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\nDon't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\nFell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\nThey say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\nHood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\nThink I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\nGettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\nIf you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\nIf you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\nCan't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\nBust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\nReason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\nIf you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\nNiggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\nIf me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\nWhat else?\n\nWe gon' disrespect your election date\nTwo bands worth of singles in the collection plate\nMy team tight\nBut we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\nDamn, respect your rations and bless your plates\nOur Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\nShaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\nRest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\nTwo bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\nMe and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\nNic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\nMy tester said it's pure\nWhen it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\nGranny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\nNow I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\nGot pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\nFifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\nAt least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\nI guess it wasn't meant for us\nYoung niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\nSeventeen hour drives in a rented truck\nTake it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\nSeveral bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\nDuffel Bag and Bo Jackson\nRun over niggas who ain't got no traction\nTouch down in your city, we dope taxin'\nFree lunches in Section 8\nPray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\nBlood money in the church's collection plate\n\nWe gon' disrespect your election date\nTwo bands worth of singles in the collection plate\nMy team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\nDamn, respect your rations and bless your plates\nOur Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\nShaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\nRest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\nTwo bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\nCall it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\nHave 'em raisin' the murder rate\nWhile I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\nFlushed away before they rush the plays\nBefore I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\nJust give me another case, never told\nNobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\nGotta hustle to make these payments\nLife on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\nTryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\nMy best friend with them rednecks and them racists\nGot twenty-one in them cages, nigga\nFaith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\nFather, I don't have the answer\nPissin' out methazine from the Phantom\nMe and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\nAfghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\nGot a bitch that come from Atlanta\nBringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\nStamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\nAdd some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n\nYeah, damn Gunna\nI know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n\nWe gon' disrespect your election date\nTwo bands worth of singles in the collection plate\nMy team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\nDamn, respect your rations and bless your plates\nOur Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\nShaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\nRest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\nTwo bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates","syncedLyrics":"[00:03.40] One time for the one time\n[00:08.47] Ayy, check\n[00:13.10] Me and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\n[00:16.38] Ask my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\n[00:19.59] Don't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\n[00:22.24] Fell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\n[00:25.71] They say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\n[00:28.61] Hood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\n[00:31.89] Think I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\n[00:35.01] Gettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\n[00:38.32] If you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\n[00:41.60] If you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\n[00:44.94] Can't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\n[00:47.95] Bust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\n[00:51.50] Reason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\n[00:54.23] If you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\n[00:57.83] Niggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\n[01:00.85] If me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\n[01:05.13] What else?\n[01:05.86] We gon' disrespect your election date\n[01:08.10] Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n[01:11.09] My team tight\n[01:11.75] But we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n[01:14.58] Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n[01:17.70] Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n[01:20.95] Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n[01:23.84] Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n[01:27.65] Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n[01:30.64] Me and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\n[01:33.74] Nic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\n[01:36.78] My tester said it's pure\n[01:37.84] When it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\n[01:39.91] Granny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\n[01:43.27] Now I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\n[01:46.23] Got pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\n[01:49.43] Fifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\n[01:52.64] At least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\n[01:55.97] I guess it wasn't meant for us\n[01:57.58] Young niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\n[01:59.99] Seventeen hour drives in a rented truck\n[02:02.38] Take it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\n[02:05.62] Several bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\n[02:09.02] Duffel Bag and Bo Jackson\n[02:10.69] Run over niggas who ain't got no traction\n[02:13.09] Touch down in your city, we dope taxin'\n[02:15.31] Free lunches in Section 8\n[02:16.90] Pray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\n[02:19.47] Blood money in the church's collection plate\n[02:22.83] We gon' disrespect your election date\n[02:25.27] Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n[02:28.42] My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n[02:31.96] Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n[02:34.85] Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n[02:37.88] Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n[02:41.08] Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n[02:45.06] Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n[02:47.88] Call it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\n[02:50.57] Have 'em raisin' the murder rate\n[02:51.83] While I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\n[02:53.52] Flushed away before they rush the plays\n[02:55.66] Before I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\n[02:57.44] Just give me another case, never told\n[02:59.68] Nobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\n[03:03.05] Gotta hustle to make these payments\n[03:04.59] Life on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\n[03:06.32] Tryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\n[03:08.38] My best friend with them rednecks and them racists\n[03:11.64] Got twenty-one in them cages, nigga\n[03:13.29] Faith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\n[03:15.86] Father, I don't have the answer\n[03:17.64] Pissin' out methazine from the Phantom\n[03:19.27] Me and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\n[03:22.57] Afghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\n[03:25.65] Got a bitch that come from Atlanta\n[03:27.56] Bringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\n[03:28.96] Stamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\n[03:30.65] Add some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n[03:33.96] Yeah, damn Gunna\n[03:36.72] I know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n[03:40.19] We gon' disrespect your election date\n[03:43.03] Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n[03:45.55] My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n[03:49.14] Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n[03:52.29] Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n[03:55.13] Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n[03:58.43] Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n[04:02.14] Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n[04:07.30] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: COLLECTION PLATES (feat. Young Chris)\n  artist: Ransom, Boldy James, Nicholas Craven, Young Chris\n  album: Salvation for the Wicked\n  duration_ms: 275000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: One time for the one time\n  start_ms: 3400\n  end_ms: 8470\n- text: Ayy, check\n  start_ms: 8470\n  end_ms: 13100\n- text: Me and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\n  start_ms: 13100\n  end_ms: 16380\n- text: Ask my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\n  start_ms: 16380\n  end_ms: 19590\n- text: Don't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\n  start_ms: 19590\n  end_ms: 22240\n- text: Fell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\n  start_ms: 22240\n  end_ms: 25710\n- text: They say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\n  start_ms: 25710\n  end_ms: 28610\n- text: Hood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\n  start_ms: 28610\n  end_ms: 31890\n- text: Think I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\n  start_ms: 31890\n  end_ms: 35010\n- text: Gettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\n  start_ms: 35010\n  end_ms: 38320\n- text: If you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\n  start_ms: 38320\n  end_ms: 41600\n- text: If you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\n  start_ms: 41600\n  end_ms: 44940\n- text: Can't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\n  start_ms: 44940\n  end_ms: 47950\n- text: Bust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\n  start_ms: 47950\n  end_ms: 51500\n- text: Reason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\n  start_ms: 51500\n  end_ms: 54230\n- text: If you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\n  start_ms: 54230\n  end_ms: 57830\n- text: Niggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\n  start_ms: 57830\n  end_ms: 60850\n- text: If me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\n  start_ms: 60850\n  end_ms: 65130\n- text: What else?\n  start_ms: 65130\n  end_ms: 65860\n- text: We gon' disrespect your election date\n  start_ms: 65860\n  end_ms: 68100\n- text: Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  start_ms: 68100\n  end_ms: 71090\n- text: My team tight\n  start_ms: 71090\n  end_ms: 71750\n- text: But we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  start_ms: 71750\n  end_ms: 74580\n- text: Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  start_ms: 74580\n  end_ms: 77700\n- text: Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  start_ms: 77700\n  end_ms: 80950\n- text: Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  start_ms: 80950\n  end_ms: 83840\n- text: Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  start_ms: 83840\n  end_ms: 87650\n- text: Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n  start_ms: 87650\n  end_ms: 90640\n- text: Me and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\n  start_ms: 90640\n  end_ms: 93740\n- text: Nic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\n  start_ms: 93740\n  end_ms: 96780\n- text: My tester said it's pure\n  start_ms: 96780\n  end_ms: 97840\n- text: When it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\n  start_ms: 97840\n  end_ms: 99910\n- text: Granny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\n  start_ms: 99910\n  end_ms: 103270\n- text: Now I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\n  start_ms: 103270\n  end_ms: 106230\n- text: Got pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\n  start_ms: 106230\n  end_ms: 109430\n- text: Fifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\n  start_ms: 109430\n  end_ms: 112640\n- text: At least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\n  start_ms: 112640\n  end_ms: 115970\n- text: I guess it wasn't meant for us\n  start_ms: 115970\n  end_ms: 117580\n- text: Young niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\n  start_ms: 117580\n  end_ms: 119990\n- text: Seventeen hour drives in a rented truck\n  start_ms: 119990\n  end_ms: 122380\n- text: Take it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\n  start_ms: 122380\n  end_ms: 125620\n- text: Several bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\n  start_ms: 125620\n  end_ms: 129020\n- text: Duffel Bag and Bo Jackson\n  start_ms: 129020\n  end_ms: 130690\n- text: Run over niggas who ain't got no traction\n  start_ms: 130690\n  end_ms: 133090\n- text: Touch down in your city, we dope taxin'\n  start_ms: 133090\n  end_ms: 135310\n- text: Free lunches in Section 8\n  start_ms: 135310\n  end_ms: 136900\n- text: Pray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\n  start_ms: 136900\n  end_ms: 139470\n- text: Blood money in the church's collection plate\n  start_ms: 139470\n  end_ms: 142830\n- text: We gon' disrespect your election date\n  start_ms: 142830\n  end_ms: 145270\n- text: Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  start_ms: 145270\n  end_ms: 148420\n- text: My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  start_ms: 148420\n  end_ms: 151960\n- text: Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  start_ms: 151960\n  end_ms: 154850\n- text: Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  start_ms: 154850\n  end_ms: 157880\n- text: Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  start_ms: 157880\n  end_ms: 161080\n- text: Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  start_ms: 161080\n  end_ms: 165060\n- text: Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n  start_ms: 165060\n  end_ms: 167880\n- text: Call it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\n  start_ms: 167880\n  end_ms: 170570\n- text: Have 'em raisin' the murder rate\n  start_ms: 170570\n  end_ms: 171830\n- text: While I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\n  start_ms: 171830\n  end_ms: 173520\n- text: Flushed away before they rush the plays\n  start_ms: 173520\n  end_ms: 175660\n- text: Before I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\n  start_ms: 175660\n  end_ms: 177440\n- text: Just give me another case, never told\n  start_ms: 177440\n  end_ms: 179680\n- text: Nobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\n  start_ms: 179680\n  end_ms: 183050\n- text: Gotta hustle to make these payments\n  start_ms: 183050\n  end_ms: 184590\n- text: Life on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\n  start_ms: 184590\n  end_ms: 186320\n- text: Tryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\n  start_ms: 186320\n  end_ms: 188380\n- text: My best friend with them rednecks and them racists\n  start_ms: 188380\n  end_ms: 191640\n- text: Got twenty-one in them cages, nigga\n  start_ms: 191640\n  end_ms: 193290\n- text: Faith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\n  start_ms: 193290\n  end_ms: 195860\n- text: Father, I don't have the answer\n  start_ms: 195860\n  end_ms: 197640\n- text: Pissin' out methazine from the Phantom\n  start_ms: 197640\n  end_ms: 199270\n- text: Me and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\n  start_ms: 199270\n  end_ms: 202570\n- text: Afghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\n  start_ms: 202570\n  end_ms: 205650\n- text: Got a bitch that come from Atlanta\n  start_ms: 205650\n  end_ms: 207560\n- text: Bringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\n  start_ms: 207560\n  end_ms: 208960\n- text: Stamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\n  start_ms: 208960\n  end_ms: 210650\n- text: Add some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n  start_ms: 210650\n  end_ms: 213960\n- text: Yeah, damn Gunna\n  start_ms: 213960\n  end_ms: 216720\n- text: I know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n  start_ms: 216720\n  end_ms: 220190\n- text: We gon' disrespect your election date\n  start_ms: 220190\n  end_ms: 223030\n- text: Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  start_ms: 223030\n  end_ms: 225550\n- text: My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  start_ms: 225550\n  end_ms: 229140\n- text: Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  start_ms: 229140\n  end_ms: 232290\n- text: Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  start_ms: 232290\n  end_ms: 235130\n- text: Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  start_ms: 235130\n  end_ms: 238430\n- text: Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  start_ms: 238430\n  end_ms: 242140\n- text: Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n  start_ms: 242140\n  end_ms: 247300\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 247300\nplain: |-\n  One time for the one time\n  Ayy, check\n\n  Me and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\n  Ask my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\n  Don't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\n  Fell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\n  They say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\n  Hood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\n  Think I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\n  Gettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\n  If you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\n  If you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\n  Can't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\n  Bust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\n  Reason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\n  If you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\n  Niggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\n  If me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\n  What else?\n\n  We gon' disrespect your election date\n  Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  My team tight\n  But we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\n  Me and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\n  Nic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\n  My tester said it's pure\n  When it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\n  Granny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\n  Now I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\n  Got pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\n  Fifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\n  At least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\n  I guess it wasn't meant for us\n  Young niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\n  Seventeen hour drives in a rented truck\n  Take it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\n  Several bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\n  Duffel Bag and Bo Jackson\n  Run over niggas who ain't got no traction\n  Touch down in your city, we dope taxin'\n  Free lunches in Section 8\n  Pray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\n  Blood money in the church's collection plate\n\n  We gon' disrespect your election date\n  Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\n  Call it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\n  Have 'em raisin' the murder rate\n  While I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\n  Flushed away before they rush the plays\n  Before I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\n  Just give me another case, never told\n  Nobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\n  Gotta hustle to make these payments\n  Life on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\n  Tryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\n  My best friend with them rednecks and them racists\n  Got twenty-one in them cages, nigga\n  Faith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\n  Father, I don't have the answer\n  Pissin' out methazine from the Phantom\n  Me and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\n  Afghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\n  Got a bitch that come from Atlanta\n  Bringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\n  Stamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\n  Add some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n\n  Yeah, damn Gunna\n  I know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n\n  We gon' disrespect your election date\n  Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n"},{"id":35596600,"name":"COLLECTION PLATES (feat. Young Chris)","trackName":"COLLECTION PLATES (feat. Young Chris)","artistName":"Ransom, Boldy James, Nicholas Craven, Young Chris","albumName":"Salvation for the Wicked","duration":269.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"One time for the one time\nAyy, check\n\nMe and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\nAsk my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\nDon't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\nFell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\nThey say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\nHood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\nThink I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\nGettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\nIf you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\nIf you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\nCan't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\nBust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\nReason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\nIf you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\nNiggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\nIf me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\nWhat else?\n\nWe gon' disrespect your election date\nTwo bands worth of singles in the collection plate\nMy team tight\nBut we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\nDamn, respect your rations and bless your plates\nOur Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\nShaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\nRest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\nTwo bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\nMe and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\nNic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\nMy tester said it's pure\nWhen it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\nGranny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\nNow I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\nGot pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\nFifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\nAt least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\nI guess it wasn't meant for us\nYoung niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\nSeventeen hour drives in a rented truck\nTake it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\nSeveral bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\nDuffel Bag and Bo Jackson\nRun over niggas who ain't got no traction\nTouch down in your city, we dope taxin'\nFree lunches in Section 8\nPray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\nBlood money in the church's collection plate\n\nWe gon' disrespect your election date\nTwo bands worth of singles in the collection plate\nMy team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\nDamn, respect your rations and bless your plates\nOur Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\nShaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\nRest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\nTwo bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\nCall it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\nHave 'em raisin' the murder rate\nWhile I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\nFlushed away before they rush the plays\nBefore I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\nJust give me another case, never told\nNobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\nGotta hustle to make these payments\nLife on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\nTryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\nMy best friend with them rednecks and them racists\nGot twenty-one in them cages, nigga\nFaith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\nFather, I don't have the answer\nPissin' out methazine from the Phantom\nMe and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\nAfghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\nGot a bitch that come from Atlanta\nBringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\nStamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\nAdd some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n\nYeah, damn Gunna\nI know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n\nWe gon' disrespect your election date\nTwo bands worth of singles in the collection plate\nMy team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\nDamn, respect your rations and bless your plates\nOur Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\nShaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\nRest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\nTwo bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates","syncedLyrics":"[00:03.40] One time for the one time\n[00:08.47] Ayy, check\n[00:13.10] Me and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\n[00:16.38] Ask my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\n[00:19.59] Don't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\n[00:22.24] Fell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\n[00:25.71] They say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\n[00:28.61] Hood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\n[00:31.89] Think I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\n[00:35.01] Gettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\n[00:38.32] If you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\n[00:41.60] If you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\n[00:44.94] Can't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\n[00:47.95] Bust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\n[00:51.50] Reason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\n[00:54.23] If you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\n[00:57.83] Niggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\n[01:00.85] If me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\n[01:05.13] What else?\n[01:05.86] We gon' disrespect your election date\n[01:08.10] Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n[01:11.09] My team tight\n[01:11.75] But we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n[01:14.58] Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n[01:17.70] Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n[01:20.95] Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n[01:23.84] Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n[01:27.65] Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n[01:30.64] Me and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\n[01:33.74] Nic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\n[01:36.78] My tester said it's pure\n[01:37.84] When it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\n[01:39.91] Granny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\n[01:43.27] Now I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\n[01:46.23] Got pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\n[01:49.43] Fifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\n[01:52.64] At least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\n[01:55.97] I guess it wasn't meant for us\n[01:57.58] Young niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\n[01:59.99] Seventeen hour drives in a rented truck\n[02:02.38] Take it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\n[02:05.62] Several bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\n[02:09.02] Duffel Bag and Bo Jackson\n[02:10.69] Run over niggas who ain't got no traction\n[02:13.09] Touch down in your city, we dope taxin'\n[02:15.31] Free lunches in Section 8\n[02:16.90] Pray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\n[02:19.47] Blood money in the church's collection plate\n[02:22.83] We gon' disrespect your election date\n[02:25.27] Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n[02:28.42] My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n[02:31.96] Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n[02:34.85] Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n[02:37.88] Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n[02:41.08] Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n[02:45.06] Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n[02:47.88] Call it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\n[02:50.57] Have 'em raisin' the murder rate\n[02:51.83] While I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\n[02:53.52] Flushed away before they rush the plays\n[02:55.66] Before I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\n[02:57.44] Just give me another case, never told\n[02:59.68] Nobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\n[03:03.05] Gotta hustle to make these payments\n[03:04.59] Life on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\n[03:06.32] Tryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\n[03:08.38] My best friend with them rednecks and them racists\n[03:11.64] Got twenty-one in them cages, nigga\n[03:13.29] Faith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\n[03:15.86] Father, I don't have the answer\n[03:17.64] Pissin' out methazine from the Phantom\n[03:19.27] Me and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\n[03:22.57] Afghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\n[03:25.65] Got a bitch that come from Atlanta\n[03:27.56] Bringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\n[03:28.96] Stamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\n[03:30.65] Add some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n[03:33.96] Yeah, damn Gunna\n[03:36.72] I know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n[03:40.19] We gon' disrespect your election date\n[03:43.03] Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n[03:45.55] My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n[03:49.14] Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n[03:52.29] Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n[03:55.13] Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n[03:58.43] Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n[04:02.14] Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n[04:07.30] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: COLLECTION PLATES (feat. Young Chris)\n  artist: Ransom, Boldy James, Nicholas Craven, Young Chris\n  album: Salvation for the Wicked\n  duration_ms: 269000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: One time for the one time\n  start_ms: 3400\n  end_ms: 8470\n- text: Ayy, check\n  start_ms: 8470\n  end_ms: 13100\n- text: Me and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\n  start_ms: 13100\n  end_ms: 16380\n- text: Ask my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\n  start_ms: 16380\n  end_ms: 19590\n- text: Don't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\n  start_ms: 19590\n  end_ms: 22240\n- text: Fell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\n  start_ms: 22240\n  end_ms: 25710\n- text: They say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\n  start_ms: 25710\n  end_ms: 28610\n- text: Hood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\n  start_ms: 28610\n  end_ms: 31890\n- text: Think I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\n  start_ms: 31890\n  end_ms: 35010\n- text: Gettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\n  start_ms: 35010\n  end_ms: 38320\n- text: If you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\n  start_ms: 38320\n  end_ms: 41600\n- text: If you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\n  start_ms: 41600\n  end_ms: 44940\n- text: Can't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\n  start_ms: 44940\n  end_ms: 47950\n- text: Bust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\n  start_ms: 47950\n  end_ms: 51500\n- text: Reason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\n  start_ms: 51500\n  end_ms: 54230\n- text: If you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\n  start_ms: 54230\n  end_ms: 57830\n- text: Niggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\n  start_ms: 57830\n  end_ms: 60850\n- text: If me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\n  start_ms: 60850\n  end_ms: 65130\n- text: What else?\n  start_ms: 65130\n  end_ms: 65860\n- text: We gon' disrespect your election date\n  start_ms: 65860\n  end_ms: 68100\n- text: Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  start_ms: 68100\n  end_ms: 71090\n- text: My team tight\n  start_ms: 71090\n  end_ms: 71750\n- text: But we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  start_ms: 71750\n  end_ms: 74580\n- text: Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  start_ms: 74580\n  end_ms: 77700\n- text: Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  start_ms: 77700\n  end_ms: 80950\n- text: Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  start_ms: 80950\n  end_ms: 83840\n- text: Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  start_ms: 83840\n  end_ms: 87650\n- text: Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n  start_ms: 87650\n  end_ms: 90640\n- text: Me and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\n  start_ms: 90640\n  end_ms: 93740\n- text: Nic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\n  start_ms: 93740\n  end_ms: 96780\n- text: My tester said it's pure\n  start_ms: 96780\n  end_ms: 97840\n- text: When it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\n  start_ms: 97840\n  end_ms: 99910\n- text: Granny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\n  start_ms: 99910\n  end_ms: 103270\n- text: Now I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\n  start_ms: 103270\n  end_ms: 106230\n- text: Got pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\n  start_ms: 106230\n  end_ms: 109430\n- text: Fifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\n  start_ms: 109430\n  end_ms: 112640\n- text: At least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\n  start_ms: 112640\n  end_ms: 115970\n- text: I guess it wasn't meant for us\n  start_ms: 115970\n  end_ms: 117580\n- text: Young niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\n  start_ms: 117580\n  end_ms: 119990\n- text: Seventeen hour drives in a rented truck\n  start_ms: 119990\n  end_ms: 122380\n- text: Take it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\n  start_ms: 122380\n  end_ms: 125620\n- text: Several bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\n  start_ms: 125620\n  end_ms: 129020\n- text: Duffel Bag and Bo Jackson\n  start_ms: 129020\n  end_ms: 130690\n- text: Run over niggas who ain't got no traction\n  start_ms: 130690\n  end_ms: 133090\n- text: Touch down in your city, we dope taxin'\n  start_ms: 133090\n  end_ms: 135310\n- text: Free lunches in Section 8\n  start_ms: 135310\n  end_ms: 136900\n- text: Pray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\n  start_ms: 136900\n  end_ms: 139470\n- text: Blood money in the church's collection plate\n  start_ms: 139470\n  end_ms: 142830\n- text: We gon' disrespect your election date\n  start_ms: 142830\n  end_ms: 145270\n- text: Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  start_ms: 145270\n  end_ms: 148420\n- text: My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  start_ms: 148420\n  end_ms: 151960\n- text: Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  start_ms: 151960\n  end_ms: 154850\n- text: Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  start_ms: 154850\n  end_ms: 157880\n- text: Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  start_ms: 157880\n  end_ms: 161080\n- text: Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  start_ms: 161080\n  end_ms: 165060\n- text: Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n  start_ms: 165060\n  end_ms: 167880\n- text: Call it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\n  start_ms: 167880\n  end_ms: 170570\n- text: Have 'em raisin' the murder rate\n  start_ms: 170570\n  end_ms: 171830\n- text: While I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\n  start_ms: 171830\n  end_ms: 173520\n- text: Flushed away before they rush the plays\n  start_ms: 173520\n  end_ms: 175660\n- text: Before I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\n  start_ms: 175660\n  end_ms: 177440\n- text: Just give me another case, never told\n  start_ms: 177440\n  end_ms: 179680\n- text: Nobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\n  start_ms: 179680\n  end_ms: 183050\n- text: Gotta hustle to make these payments\n  start_ms: 183050\n  end_ms: 184590\n- text: Life on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\n  start_ms: 184590\n  end_ms: 186320\n- text: Tryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\n  start_ms: 186320\n  end_ms: 188380\n- text: My best friend with them rednecks and them racists\n  start_ms: 188380\n  end_ms: 191640\n- text: Got twenty-one in them cages, nigga\n  start_ms: 191640\n  end_ms: 193290\n- text: Faith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\n  start_ms: 193290\n  end_ms: 195860\n- text: Father, I don't have the answer\n  start_ms: 195860\n  end_ms: 197640\n- text: Pissin' out methazine from the Phantom\n  start_ms: 197640\n  end_ms: 199270\n- text: Me and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\n  start_ms: 199270\n  end_ms: 202570\n- text: Afghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\n  start_ms: 202570\n  end_ms: 205650\n- text: Got a bitch that come from Atlanta\n  start_ms: 205650\n  end_ms: 207560\n- text: Bringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\n  start_ms: 207560\n  end_ms: 208960\n- text: Stamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\n  start_ms: 208960\n  end_ms: 210650\n- text: Add some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n  start_ms: 210650\n  end_ms: 213960\n- text: Yeah, damn Gunna\n  start_ms: 213960\n  end_ms: 216720\n- text: I know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n  start_ms: 216720\n  end_ms: 220190\n- text: We gon' disrespect your election date\n  start_ms: 220190\n  end_ms: 223030\n- text: Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  start_ms: 223030\n  end_ms: 225550\n- text: My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  start_ms: 225550\n  end_ms: 229140\n- text: Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  start_ms: 229140\n  end_ms: 232290\n- text: Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  start_ms: 232290\n  end_ms: 235130\n- text: Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  start_ms: 235130\n  end_ms: 238430\n- text: Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  start_ms: 238430\n  end_ms: 242140\n- text: Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n  start_ms: 242140\n  end_ms: 247300\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 247300\nplain: |-\n  One time for the one time\n  Ayy, check\n\n  Me and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\n  Ask my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\n  Don't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\n  Fell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\n  They say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\n  Hood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\n  Think I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\n  Gettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\n  If you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\n  If you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\n  Can't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\n  Bust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\n  Reason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\n  If you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\n  Niggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\n  If me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\n  What else?\n\n  We gon' disrespect your election date\n  Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  My team tight\n  But we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\n  Me and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\n  Nic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\n  My tester said it's pure\n  When it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\n  Granny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\n  Now I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\n  Got pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\n  Fifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\n  At least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\n  I guess it wasn't meant for us\n  Young niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\n  Seventeen hour drives in a rented truck\n  Take it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\n  Several bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\n  Duffel Bag and Bo Jackson\n  Run over niggas who ain't got no traction\n  Touch down in your city, we dope taxin'\n  Free lunches in Section 8\n  Pray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\n  Blood money in the church's collection plate\n\n  We gon' disrespect your election date\n  Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\n  Call it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\n  Have 'em raisin' the murder rate\n  While I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\n  Flushed away before they rush the plays\n  Before I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\n  Just give me another case, never told\n  Nobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\n  Gotta hustle to make these payments\n  Life on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\n  Tryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\n  My best friend with them rednecks and them racists\n  Got twenty-one in them cages, nigga\n  Faith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\n  Father, I don't have the answer\n  Pissin' out methazine from the Phantom\n  Me and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\n  Afghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\n  Got a bitch that come from Atlanta\n  Bringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\n  Stamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\n  Add some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n\n  Yeah, damn Gunna\n  I know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n\n  We gon' disrespect your election date\n  Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n"},{"id":35596605,"name":"COLLECTION PLATES (feat. Young Chris)","trackName":"COLLECTION PLATES (feat. Young Chris)","artistName":"Ransom, Boldy James, Nicholas Craven, Young Chris","albumName":"Salvation for the Wicked","duration":266.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"One time for the one time\nAyy, check\n\nMe and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\nAsk my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\nDon't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\nFell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\nThey say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\nHood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\nThink I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\nGettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\nIf you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\nIf you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\nCan't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\nBust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\nReason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\nIf you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\nNiggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\nIf me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\nWhat else?\n\nWe gon' disrespect your election date\nTwo bands worth of singles in the collection plate\nMy team tight\nBut we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\nDamn, respect your rations and bless your plates\nOur Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\nShaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\nRest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\nTwo bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\nMe and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\nNic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\nMy tester said it's pure\nWhen it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\nGranny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\nNow I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\nGot pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\nFifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\nAt least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\nI guess it wasn't meant for us\nYoung niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\nSeventeen hour drives in a rented truck\nTake it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\nSeveral bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\nDuffel Bag and Bo Jackson\nRun over niggas who ain't got no traction\nTouch down in your city, we dope taxin'\nFree lunches in Section 8\nPray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\nBlood money in the church's collection plate\n\nWe gon' disrespect your election date\nTwo bands worth of singles in the collection plate\nMy team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\nDamn, respect your rations and bless your plates\nOur Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\nShaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\nRest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\nTwo bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\nCall it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\nHave 'em raisin' the murder rate\nWhile I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\nFlushed away before they rush the plays\nBefore I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\nJust give me another case, never told\nNobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\nGotta hustle to make these payments\nLife on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\nTryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\nMy best friend with them rednecks and them racists\nGot twenty-one in them cages, nigga\nFaith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\nFather, I don't have the answer\nPissin' out methazine from the Phantom\nMe and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\nAfghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\nGot a bitch that come from Atlanta\nBringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\nStamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\nAdd some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n\nYeah, damn Gunna\nI know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n\nWe gon' disrespect your election date\nTwo bands worth of singles in the collection plate\nMy team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\nDamn, respect your rations and bless your plates\nOur Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\nShaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\nRest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\nTwo bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates","syncedLyrics":"[00:03.40] One time for the one time\n[00:08.47] Ayy, check\n[00:13.10] Me and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\n[00:16.38] Ask my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\n[00:19.59] Don't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\n[00:22.24] Fell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\n[00:25.71] They say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\n[00:28.61] Hood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\n[00:31.89] Think I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\n[00:35.01] Gettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\n[00:38.32] If you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\n[00:41.60] If you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\n[00:44.94] Can't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\n[00:47.95] Bust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\n[00:51.50] Reason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\n[00:54.23] If you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\n[00:57.83] Niggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\n[01:00.85] If me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\n[01:05.13] What else?\n[01:05.86] We gon' disrespect your election date\n[01:08.10] Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n[01:11.09] My team tight\n[01:11.75] But we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n[01:14.58] Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n[01:17.70] Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n[01:20.95] Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n[01:23.84] Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n[01:27.65] Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n[01:30.64] Me and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\n[01:33.74] Nic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\n[01:36.78] My tester said it's pure\n[01:37.84] When it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\n[01:39.91] Granny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\n[01:43.27] Now I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\n[01:46.23] Got pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\n[01:49.43] Fifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\n[01:52.64] At least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\n[01:55.97] I guess it wasn't meant for us\n[01:57.58] Young niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\n[01:59.99] Seventeen hour drives in a rented truck\n[02:02.38] Take it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\n[02:05.62] Several bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\n[02:09.02] Duffel Bag and Bo Jackson\n[02:10.69] Run over niggas who ain't got no traction\n[02:13.09] Touch down in your city, we dope taxin'\n[02:15.31] Free lunches in Section 8\n[02:16.90] Pray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\n[02:19.47] Blood money in the church's collection plate\n[02:22.83] We gon' disrespect your election date\n[02:25.27] Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n[02:28.42] My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n[02:31.96] Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n[02:34.85] Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n[02:37.88] Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n[02:41.08] Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n[02:45.06] Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n[02:47.88] Call it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\n[02:50.57] Have 'em raisin' the murder rate\n[02:51.83] While I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\n[02:53.52] Flushed away before they rush the plays\n[02:55.66] Before I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\n[02:57.44] Just give me another case, never told\n[02:59.68] Nobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\n[03:03.05] Gotta hustle to make these payments\n[03:04.59] Life on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\n[03:06.32] Tryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\n[03:08.38] My best friend with them rednecks and them racists\n[03:11.64] Got twenty-one in them cages, nigga\n[03:13.29] Faith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\n[03:15.86] Father, I don't have the answer\n[03:17.64] Pissin' out methazine from the Phantom\n[03:19.27] Me and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\n[03:22.57] Afghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\n[03:25.65] Got a bitch that come from Atlanta\n[03:27.56] Bringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\n[03:28.96] Stamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\n[03:30.65] Add some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n[03:33.96] Yeah, damn Gunna\n[03:36.72] I know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n[03:40.19] We gon' disrespect your election date\n[03:43.03] Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n[03:45.55] My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n[03:49.14] Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n[03:52.29] Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n[03:55.13] Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n[03:58.43] Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n[04:02.14] Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n[04:07.30] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: COLLECTION PLATES (feat. Young Chris)\n  artist: Ransom, Boldy James, Nicholas Craven, Young Chris\n  album: Salvation for the Wicked\n  duration_ms: 266000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: One time for the one time\n  start_ms: 3400\n  end_ms: 8470\n- text: Ayy, check\n  start_ms: 8470\n  end_ms: 13100\n- text: Me and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\n  start_ms: 13100\n  end_ms: 16380\n- text: Ask my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\n  start_ms: 16380\n  end_ms: 19590\n- text: Don't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\n  start_ms: 19590\n  end_ms: 22240\n- text: Fell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\n  start_ms: 22240\n  end_ms: 25710\n- text: They say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\n  start_ms: 25710\n  end_ms: 28610\n- text: Hood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\n  start_ms: 28610\n  end_ms: 31890\n- text: Think I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\n  start_ms: 31890\n  end_ms: 35010\n- text: Gettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\n  start_ms: 35010\n  end_ms: 38320\n- text: If you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\n  start_ms: 38320\n  end_ms: 41600\n- text: If you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\n  start_ms: 41600\n  end_ms: 44940\n- text: Can't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\n  start_ms: 44940\n  end_ms: 47950\n- text: Bust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\n  start_ms: 47950\n  end_ms: 51500\n- text: Reason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\n  start_ms: 51500\n  end_ms: 54230\n- text: If you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\n  start_ms: 54230\n  end_ms: 57830\n- text: Niggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\n  start_ms: 57830\n  end_ms: 60850\n- text: If me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\n  start_ms: 60850\n  end_ms: 65130\n- text: What else?\n  start_ms: 65130\n  end_ms: 65860\n- text: We gon' disrespect your election date\n  start_ms: 65860\n  end_ms: 68100\n- text: Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  start_ms: 68100\n  end_ms: 71090\n- text: My team tight\n  start_ms: 71090\n  end_ms: 71750\n- text: But we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  start_ms: 71750\n  end_ms: 74580\n- text: Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  start_ms: 74580\n  end_ms: 77700\n- text: Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  start_ms: 77700\n  end_ms: 80950\n- text: Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  start_ms: 80950\n  end_ms: 83840\n- text: Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  start_ms: 83840\n  end_ms: 87650\n- text: Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n  start_ms: 87650\n  end_ms: 90640\n- text: Me and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\n  start_ms: 90640\n  end_ms: 93740\n- text: Nic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\n  start_ms: 93740\n  end_ms: 96780\n- text: My tester said it's pure\n  start_ms: 96780\n  end_ms: 97840\n- text: When it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\n  start_ms: 97840\n  end_ms: 99910\n- text: Granny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\n  start_ms: 99910\n  end_ms: 103270\n- text: Now I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\n  start_ms: 103270\n  end_ms: 106230\n- text: Got pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\n  start_ms: 106230\n  end_ms: 109430\n- text: Fifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\n  start_ms: 109430\n  end_ms: 112640\n- text: At least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\n  start_ms: 112640\n  end_ms: 115970\n- text: I guess it wasn't meant for us\n  start_ms: 115970\n  end_ms: 117580\n- text: Young niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\n  start_ms: 117580\n  end_ms: 119990\n- text: Seventeen hour drives in a rented truck\n  start_ms: 119990\n  end_ms: 122380\n- text: Take it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\n  start_ms: 122380\n  end_ms: 125620\n- text: Several bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\n  start_ms: 125620\n  end_ms: 129020\n- text: Duffel Bag and Bo Jackson\n  start_ms: 129020\n  end_ms: 130690\n- text: Run over niggas who ain't got no traction\n  start_ms: 130690\n  end_ms: 133090\n- text: Touch down in your city, we dope taxin'\n  start_ms: 133090\n  end_ms: 135310\n- text: Free lunches in Section 8\n  start_ms: 135310\n  end_ms: 136900\n- text: Pray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\n  start_ms: 136900\n  end_ms: 139470\n- text: Blood money in the church's collection plate\n  start_ms: 139470\n  end_ms: 142830\n- text: We gon' disrespect your election date\n  start_ms: 142830\n  end_ms: 145270\n- text: Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  start_ms: 145270\n  end_ms: 148420\n- text: My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  start_ms: 148420\n  end_ms: 151960\n- text: Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  start_ms: 151960\n  end_ms: 154850\n- text: Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  start_ms: 154850\n  end_ms: 157880\n- text: Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  start_ms: 157880\n  end_ms: 161080\n- text: Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  start_ms: 161080\n  end_ms: 165060\n- text: Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n  start_ms: 165060\n  end_ms: 167880\n- text: Call it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\n  start_ms: 167880\n  end_ms: 170570\n- text: Have 'em raisin' the murder rate\n  start_ms: 170570\n  end_ms: 171830\n- text: While I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\n  start_ms: 171830\n  end_ms: 173520\n- text: Flushed away before they rush the plays\n  start_ms: 173520\n  end_ms: 175660\n- text: Before I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\n  start_ms: 175660\n  end_ms: 177440\n- text: Just give me another case, never told\n  start_ms: 177440\n  end_ms: 179680\n- text: Nobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\n  start_ms: 179680\n  end_ms: 183050\n- text: Gotta hustle to make these payments\n  start_ms: 183050\n  end_ms: 184590\n- text: Life on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\n  start_ms: 184590\n  end_ms: 186320\n- text: Tryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\n  start_ms: 186320\n  end_ms: 188380\n- text: My best friend with them rednecks and them racists\n  start_ms: 188380\n  end_ms: 191640\n- text: Got twenty-one in them cages, nigga\n  start_ms: 191640\n  end_ms: 193290\n- text: Faith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\n  start_ms: 193290\n  end_ms: 195860\n- text: Father, I don't have the answer\n  start_ms: 195860\n  end_ms: 197640\n- text: Pissin' out methazine from the Phantom\n  start_ms: 197640\n  end_ms: 199270\n- text: Me and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\n  start_ms: 199270\n  end_ms: 202570\n- text: Afghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\n  start_ms: 202570\n  end_ms: 205650\n- text: Got a bitch that come from Atlanta\n  start_ms: 205650\n  end_ms: 207560\n- text: Bringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\n  start_ms: 207560\n  end_ms: 208960\n- text: Stamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\n  start_ms: 208960\n  end_ms: 210650\n- text: Add some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n  start_ms: 210650\n  end_ms: 213960\n- text: Yeah, damn Gunna\n  start_ms: 213960\n  end_ms: 216720\n- text: I know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n  start_ms: 216720\n  end_ms: 220190\n- text: We gon' disrespect your election date\n  start_ms: 220190\n  end_ms: 223030\n- text: Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  start_ms: 223030\n  end_ms: 225550\n- text: My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  start_ms: 225550\n  end_ms: 229140\n- text: Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  start_ms: 229140\n  end_ms: 232290\n- text: Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  start_ms: 232290\n  end_ms: 235130\n- text: Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  start_ms: 235130\n  end_ms: 238430\n- text: Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  start_ms: 238430\n  end_ms: 242140\n- text: Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n  start_ms: 242140\n  end_ms: 247300\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 247300\nplain: |-\n  One time for the one time\n  Ayy, check\n\n  Me and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\n  Ask my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\n  Don't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\n  Fell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\n  They say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\n  Hood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\n  Think I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\n  Gettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\n  If you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\n  If you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\n  Can't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\n  Bust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\n  Reason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\n  If you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\n  Niggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\n  If me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\n  What else?\n\n  We gon' disrespect your election date\n  Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  My team tight\n  But we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\n  Me and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\n  Nic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\n  My tester said it's pure\n  When it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\n  Granny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\n  Now I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\n  Got pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\n  Fifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\n  At least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\n  I guess it wasn't meant for us\n  Young niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\n  Seventeen hour drives in a rented truck\n  Take it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\n  Several bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\n  Duffel Bag and Bo Jackson\n  Run over niggas who ain't got no traction\n  Touch down in your city, we dope taxin'\n  Free lunches in Section 8\n  Pray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\n  Blood money in the church's collection plate\n\n  We gon' disrespect your election date\n  Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\n  Call it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\n  Have 'em raisin' the murder rate\n  While I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\n  Flushed away before they rush the plays\n  Before I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\n  Just give me another case, never told\n  Nobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\n  Gotta hustle to make these payments\n  Life on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\n  Tryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\n  My best friend with them rednecks and them racists\n  Got twenty-one in them cages, nigga\n  Faith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\n  Father, I don't have the answer\n  Pissin' out methazine from the Phantom\n  Me and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\n  Afghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\n  Got a bitch that come from Atlanta\n  Bringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\n  Stamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\n  Add some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n\n  Yeah, damn Gunna\n  I know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n\n  We gon' disrespect your election date\n  Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n"},{"id":35596607,"name":"COLLECTION PLATES (feat. Young Chris)","trackName":"COLLECTION PLATES (feat. Young Chris)","artistName":"Ransom, Boldy James, Nicholas Craven, Young Chris","albumName":"Salvation for the Wicked","duration":274.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"One time for the one time\nAyy, check\n\nMe and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\nAsk my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\nDon't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\nFell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\nThey say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\nHood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\nThink I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\nGettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\nIf you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\nIf you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\nCan't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\nBust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\nReason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\nIf you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\nNiggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\nIf me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\nWhat else?\n\nWe gon' disrespect your election date\nTwo bands worth of singles in the collection plate\nMy team tight\nBut we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\nDamn, respect your rations and bless your plates\nOur Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\nShaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\nRest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\nTwo bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\nMe and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\nNic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\nMy tester said it's pure\nWhen it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\nGranny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\nNow I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\nGot pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\nFifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\nAt least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\nI guess it wasn't meant for us\nYoung niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\nSeventeen hour drives in a rented truck\nTake it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\nSeveral bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\nDuffel Bag and Bo Jackson\nRun over niggas who ain't got no traction\nTouch down in your city, we dope taxin'\nFree lunches in Section 8\nPray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\nBlood money in the church's collection plate\n\nWe gon' disrespect your election date\nTwo bands worth of singles in the collection plate\nMy team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\nDamn, respect your rations and bless your plates\nOur Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\nShaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\nRest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\nTwo bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\nCall it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\nHave 'em raisin' the murder rate\nWhile I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\nFlushed away before they rush the plays\nBefore I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\nJust give me another case, never told\nNobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\nGotta hustle to make these payments\nLife on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\nTryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\nMy best friend with them rednecks and them racists\nGot twenty-one in them cages, nigga\nFaith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\nFather, I don't have the answer\nPissin' out methazine from the Phantom\nMe and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\nAfghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\nGot a bitch that come from Atlanta\nBringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\nStamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\nAdd some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n\nYeah, damn Gunna\nI know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n\nWe gon' disrespect your election date\nTwo bands worth of singles in the collection plate\nMy team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\nDamn, respect your rations and bless your plates\nOur Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\nShaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\nRest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\nTwo bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates","syncedLyrics":"[00:03.40] One time for the one time\n[00:08.47] Ayy, check\n[00:13.10] Me and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\n[00:16.38] Ask my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\n[00:19.59] Don't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\n[00:22.24] Fell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\n[00:25.71] They say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\n[00:28.61] Hood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\n[00:31.89] Think I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\n[00:35.01] Gettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\n[00:38.32] If you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\n[00:41.60] If you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\n[00:44.94] Can't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\n[00:47.95] Bust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\n[00:51.50] Reason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\n[00:54.23] If you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\n[00:57.83] Niggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\n[01:00.85] If me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\n[01:05.13] What else?\n[01:05.86] We gon' disrespect your election date\n[01:08.10] Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n[01:11.09] My team tight\n[01:11.75] But we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n[01:14.58] Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n[01:17.70] Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n[01:20.95] Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n[01:23.84] Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n[01:27.65] Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n[01:30.64] Me and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\n[01:33.74] Nic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\n[01:36.78] My tester said it's pure\n[01:37.84] When it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\n[01:39.91] Granny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\n[01:43.27] Now I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\n[01:46.23] Got pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\n[01:49.43] Fifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\n[01:52.64] At least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\n[01:55.97] I guess it wasn't meant for us\n[01:57.58] Young niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\n[01:59.99] Seventeen hour drives in a rented truck\n[02:02.38] Take it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\n[02:05.62] Several bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\n[02:09.02] Duffel Bag and Bo Jackson\n[02:10.69] Run over niggas who ain't got no traction\n[02:13.09] Touch down in your city, we dope taxin'\n[02:15.31] Free lunches in Section 8\n[02:16.90] Pray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\n[02:19.47] Blood money in the church's collection plate\n[02:22.83] We gon' disrespect your election date\n[02:25.27] Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n[02:28.42] My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n[02:31.96] Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n[02:34.85] Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n[02:37.88] Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n[02:41.08] Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n[02:45.06] Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n[02:47.88] Call it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\n[02:50.57] Have 'em raisin' the murder rate\n[02:51.83] While I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\n[02:53.52] Flushed away before they rush the plays\n[02:55.66] Before I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\n[02:57.44] Just give me another case, never told\n[02:59.68] Nobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\n[03:03.05] Gotta hustle to make these payments\n[03:04.59] Life on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\n[03:06.32] Tryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\n[03:08.38] My best friend with them rednecks and them racists\n[03:11.64] Got twenty-one in them cages, nigga\n[03:13.29] Faith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\n[03:15.86] Father, I don't have the answer\n[03:17.64] Pissin' out methazine from the Phantom\n[03:19.27] Me and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\n[03:22.57] Afghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\n[03:25.65] Got a bitch that come from Atlanta\n[03:27.56] Bringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\n[03:28.96] Stamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\n[03:30.65] Add some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n[03:33.96] Yeah, damn Gunna\n[03:36.72] I know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n[03:40.19] We gon' disrespect your election date\n[03:43.03] Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n[03:45.55] My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n[03:49.14] Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n[03:52.29] Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n[03:55.13] Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n[03:58.43] Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n[04:02.14] Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n[04:07.30] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: COLLECTION PLATES (feat. Young Chris)\n  artist: Ransom, Boldy James, Nicholas Craven, Young Chris\n  album: Salvation for the Wicked\n  duration_ms: 274000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: One time for the one time\n  start_ms: 3400\n  end_ms: 8470\n- text: Ayy, check\n  start_ms: 8470\n  end_ms: 13100\n- text: Me and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\n  start_ms: 13100\n  end_ms: 16380\n- text: Ask my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\n  start_ms: 16380\n  end_ms: 19590\n- text: Don't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\n  start_ms: 19590\n  end_ms: 22240\n- text: Fell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\n  start_ms: 22240\n  end_ms: 25710\n- text: They say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\n  start_ms: 25710\n  end_ms: 28610\n- text: Hood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\n  start_ms: 28610\n  end_ms: 31890\n- text: Think I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\n  start_ms: 31890\n  end_ms: 35010\n- text: Gettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\n  start_ms: 35010\n  end_ms: 38320\n- text: If you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\n  start_ms: 38320\n  end_ms: 41600\n- text: If you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\n  start_ms: 41600\n  end_ms: 44940\n- text: Can't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\n  start_ms: 44940\n  end_ms: 47950\n- text: Bust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\n  start_ms: 47950\n  end_ms: 51500\n- text: Reason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\n  start_ms: 51500\n  end_ms: 54230\n- text: If you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\n  start_ms: 54230\n  end_ms: 57830\n- text: Niggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\n  start_ms: 57830\n  end_ms: 60850\n- text: If me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\n  start_ms: 60850\n  end_ms: 65130\n- text: What else?\n  start_ms: 65130\n  end_ms: 65860\n- text: We gon' disrespect your election date\n  start_ms: 65860\n  end_ms: 68100\n- text: Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  start_ms: 68100\n  end_ms: 71090\n- text: My team tight\n  start_ms: 71090\n  end_ms: 71750\n- text: But we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  start_ms: 71750\n  end_ms: 74580\n- text: Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  start_ms: 74580\n  end_ms: 77700\n- text: Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  start_ms: 77700\n  end_ms: 80950\n- text: Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  start_ms: 80950\n  end_ms: 83840\n- text: Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  start_ms: 83840\n  end_ms: 87650\n- text: Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n  start_ms: 87650\n  end_ms: 90640\n- text: Me and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\n  start_ms: 90640\n  end_ms: 93740\n- text: Nic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\n  start_ms: 93740\n  end_ms: 96780\n- text: My tester said it's pure\n  start_ms: 96780\n  end_ms: 97840\n- text: When it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\n  start_ms: 97840\n  end_ms: 99910\n- text: Granny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\n  start_ms: 99910\n  end_ms: 103270\n- text: Now I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\n  start_ms: 103270\n  end_ms: 106230\n- text: Got pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\n  start_ms: 106230\n  end_ms: 109430\n- text: Fifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\n  start_ms: 109430\n  end_ms: 112640\n- text: At least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\n  start_ms: 112640\n  end_ms: 115970\n- text: I guess it wasn't meant for us\n  start_ms: 115970\n  end_ms: 117580\n- text: Young niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\n  start_ms: 117580\n  end_ms: 119990\n- text: Seventeen hour drives in a rented truck\n  start_ms: 119990\n  end_ms: 122380\n- text: Take it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\n  start_ms: 122380\n  end_ms: 125620\n- text: Several bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\n  start_ms: 125620\n  end_ms: 129020\n- text: Duffel Bag and Bo Jackson\n  start_ms: 129020\n  end_ms: 130690\n- text: Run over niggas who ain't got no traction\n  start_ms: 130690\n  end_ms: 133090\n- text: Touch down in your city, we dope taxin'\n  start_ms: 133090\n  end_ms: 135310\n- text: Free lunches in Section 8\n  start_ms: 135310\n  end_ms: 136900\n- text: Pray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\n  start_ms: 136900\n  end_ms: 139470\n- text: Blood money in the church's collection plate\n  start_ms: 139470\n  end_ms: 142830\n- text: We gon' disrespect your election date\n  start_ms: 142830\n  end_ms: 145270\n- text: Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  start_ms: 145270\n  end_ms: 148420\n- text: My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  start_ms: 148420\n  end_ms: 151960\n- text: Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  start_ms: 151960\n  end_ms: 154850\n- text: Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  start_ms: 154850\n  end_ms: 157880\n- text: Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  start_ms: 157880\n  end_ms: 161080\n- text: Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  start_ms: 161080\n  end_ms: 165060\n- text: Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n  start_ms: 165060\n  end_ms: 167880\n- text: Call it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\n  start_ms: 167880\n  end_ms: 170570\n- text: Have 'em raisin' the murder rate\n  start_ms: 170570\n  end_ms: 171830\n- text: While I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\n  start_ms: 171830\n  end_ms: 173520\n- text: Flushed away before they rush the plays\n  start_ms: 173520\n  end_ms: 175660\n- text: Before I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\n  start_ms: 175660\n  end_ms: 177440\n- text: Just give me another case, never told\n  start_ms: 177440\n  end_ms: 179680\n- text: Nobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\n  start_ms: 179680\n  end_ms: 183050\n- text: Gotta hustle to make these payments\n  start_ms: 183050\n  end_ms: 184590\n- text: Life on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\n  start_ms: 184590\n  end_ms: 186320\n- text: Tryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\n  start_ms: 186320\n  end_ms: 188380\n- text: My best friend with them rednecks and them racists\n  start_ms: 188380\n  end_ms: 191640\n- text: Got twenty-one in them cages, nigga\n  start_ms: 191640\n  end_ms: 193290\n- text: Faith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\n  start_ms: 193290\n  end_ms: 195860\n- text: Father, I don't have the answer\n  start_ms: 195860\n  end_ms: 197640\n- text: Pissin' out methazine from the Phantom\n  start_ms: 197640\n  end_ms: 199270\n- text: Me and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\n  start_ms: 199270\n  end_ms: 202570\n- text: Afghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\n  start_ms: 202570\n  end_ms: 205650\n- text: Got a bitch that come from Atlanta\n  start_ms: 205650\n  end_ms: 207560\n- text: Bringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\n  start_ms: 207560\n  end_ms: 208960\n- text: Stamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\n  start_ms: 208960\n  end_ms: 210650\n- text: Add some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n  start_ms: 210650\n  end_ms: 213960\n- text: Yeah, damn Gunna\n  start_ms: 213960\n  end_ms: 216720\n- text: I know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n  start_ms: 216720\n  end_ms: 220190\n- text: We gon' disrespect your election date\n  start_ms: 220190\n  end_ms: 223030\n- text: Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  start_ms: 223030\n  end_ms: 225550\n- text: My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  start_ms: 225550\n  end_ms: 229140\n- text: Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  start_ms: 229140\n  end_ms: 232290\n- text: Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  start_ms: 232290\n  end_ms: 235130\n- text: Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  start_ms: 235130\n  end_ms: 238430\n- text: Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  start_ms: 238430\n  end_ms: 242140\n- text: Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n  start_ms: 242140\n  end_ms: 247300\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 247300\nplain: |-\n  One time for the one time\n  Ayy, check\n\n  Me and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\n  Ask my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\n  Don't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\n  Fell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\n  They say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\n  Hood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\n  Think I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\n  Gettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\n  If you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\n  If you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\n  Can't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\n  Bust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\n  Reason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\n  If you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\n  Niggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\n  If me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\n  What else?\n\n  We gon' disrespect your election date\n  Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  My team tight\n  But we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\n  Me and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\n  Nic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\n  My tester said it's pure\n  When it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\n  Granny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\n  Now I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\n  Got pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\n  Fifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\n  At least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\n  I guess it wasn't meant for us\n  Young niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\n  Seventeen hour drives in a rented truck\n  Take it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\n  Several bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\n  Duffel Bag and Bo Jackson\n  Run over niggas who ain't got no traction\n  Touch down in your city, we dope taxin'\n  Free lunches in Section 8\n  Pray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\n  Blood money in the church's collection plate\n\n  We gon' disrespect your election date\n  Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\n  Call it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\n  Have 'em raisin' the murder rate\n  While I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\n  Flushed away before they rush the plays\n  Before I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\n  Just give me another case, never told\n  Nobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\n  Gotta hustle to make these payments\n  Life on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\n  Tryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\n  My best friend with them rednecks and them racists\n  Got twenty-one in them cages, nigga\n  Faith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\n  Father, I don't have the answer\n  Pissin' out methazine from the Phantom\n  Me and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\n  Afghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\n  Got a bitch that come from Atlanta\n  Bringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\n  Stamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\n  Add some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n\n  Yeah, damn Gunna\n  I know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n\n  We gon' disrespect your election date\n  Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n"},{"id":35596601,"name":"COLLECTION PLATES (feat. Young Chris)","trackName":"COLLECTION PLATES (feat. Young Chris)","artistName":"Ransom, Boldy James, Nicholas Craven, Young Chris","albumName":"Salvation for the Wicked","duration":268.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"One time for the one time\nAyy, check\n\nMe and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\nAsk my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\nDon't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\nFell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\nThey say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\nHood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\nThink I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\nGettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\nIf you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\nIf you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\nCan't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\nBust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\nReason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\nIf you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\nNiggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\nIf me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\nWhat else?\n\nWe gon' disrespect your election date\nTwo bands worth of singles in the collection plate\nMy team tight\nBut we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\nDamn, respect your rations and bless your plates\nOur Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\nShaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\nRest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\nTwo bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\nMe and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\nNic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\nMy tester said it's pure\nWhen it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\nGranny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\nNow I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\nGot pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\nFifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\nAt least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\nI guess it wasn't meant for us\nYoung niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\nSeventeen hour drives in a rented truck\nTake it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\nSeveral bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\nDuffel Bag and Bo Jackson\nRun over niggas who ain't got no traction\nTouch down in your city, we dope taxin'\nFree lunches in Section 8\nPray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\nBlood money in the church's collection plate\n\nWe gon' disrespect your election date\nTwo bands worth of singles in the collection plate\nMy team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\nDamn, respect your rations and bless your plates\nOur Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\nShaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\nRest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\nTwo bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\nCall it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\nHave 'em raisin' the murder rate\nWhile I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\nFlushed away before they rush the plays\nBefore I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\nJust give me another case, never told\nNobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\nGotta hustle to make these payments\nLife on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\nTryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\nMy best friend with them rednecks and them racists\nGot twenty-one in them cages, nigga\nFaith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\nFather, I don't have the answer\nPissin' out methazine from the Phantom\nMe and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\nAfghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\nGot a bitch that come from Atlanta\nBringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\nStamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\nAdd some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n\nYeah, damn Gunna\nI know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n\nWe gon' disrespect your election date\nTwo bands worth of singles in the collection plate\nMy team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\nDamn, respect your rations and bless your plates\nOur Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\nShaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\nRest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\nTwo bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates","syncedLyrics":"[00:03.40] One time for the one time\n[00:08.47] Ayy, check\n[00:13.10] Me and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\n[00:16.38] Ask my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\n[00:19.59] Don't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\n[00:22.24] Fell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\n[00:25.71] They say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\n[00:28.61] Hood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\n[00:31.89] Think I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\n[00:35.01] Gettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\n[00:38.32] If you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\n[00:41.60] If you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\n[00:44.94] Can't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\n[00:47.95] Bust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\n[00:51.50] Reason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\n[00:54.23] If you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\n[00:57.83] Niggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\n[01:00.85] If me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\n[01:05.13] What else?\n[01:05.86] We gon' disrespect your election date\n[01:08.10] Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n[01:11.09] My team tight\n[01:11.75] But we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n[01:14.58] Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n[01:17.70] Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n[01:20.95] Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n[01:23.84] Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n[01:27.65] Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n[01:30.64] Me and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\n[01:33.74] Nic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\n[01:36.78] My tester said it's pure\n[01:37.84] When it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\n[01:39.91] Granny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\n[01:43.27] Now I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\n[01:46.23] Got pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\n[01:49.43] Fifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\n[01:52.64] At least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\n[01:55.97] I guess it wasn't meant for us\n[01:57.58] Young niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\n[01:59.99] Seventeen hour drives in a rented truck\n[02:02.38] Take it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\n[02:05.62] Several bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\n[02:09.02] Duffel Bag and Bo Jackson\n[02:10.69] Run over niggas who ain't got no traction\n[02:13.09] Touch down in your city, we dope taxin'\n[02:15.31] Free lunches in Section 8\n[02:16.90] Pray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\n[02:19.47] Blood money in the church's collection plate\n[02:22.83] We gon' disrespect your election date\n[02:25.27] Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n[02:28.42] My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n[02:31.96] Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n[02:34.85] Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n[02:37.88] Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n[02:41.08] Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n[02:45.06] Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n[02:47.88] Call it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\n[02:50.57] Have 'em raisin' the murder rate\n[02:51.83] While I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\n[02:53.52] Flushed away before they rush the plays\n[02:55.66] Before I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\n[02:57.44] Just give me another case, never told\n[02:59.68] Nobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\n[03:03.05] Gotta hustle to make these payments\n[03:04.59] Life on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\n[03:06.32] Tryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\n[03:08.38] My best friend with them rednecks and them racists\n[03:11.64] Got twenty-one in them cages, nigga\n[03:13.29] Faith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\n[03:15.86] Father, I don't have the answer\n[03:17.64] Pissin' out methazine from the Phantom\n[03:19.27] Me and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\n[03:22.57] Afghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\n[03:25.65] Got a bitch that come from Atlanta\n[03:27.56] Bringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\n[03:28.96] Stamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\n[03:30.65] Add some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n[03:33.96] Yeah, damn Gunna\n[03:36.72] I know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n[03:40.19] We gon' disrespect your election date\n[03:43.03] Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n[03:45.55] My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n[03:49.14] Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n[03:52.29] Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n[03:55.13] Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n[03:58.43] Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n[04:02.14] Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n[04:07.30] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: COLLECTION PLATES (feat. Young Chris)\n  artist: Ransom, Boldy James, Nicholas Craven, Young Chris\n  album: Salvation for the Wicked\n  duration_ms: 268000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: One time for the one time\n  start_ms: 3400\n  end_ms: 8470\n- text: Ayy, check\n  start_ms: 8470\n  end_ms: 13100\n- text: Me and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\n  start_ms: 13100\n  end_ms: 16380\n- text: Ask my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\n  start_ms: 16380\n  end_ms: 19590\n- text: Don't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\n  start_ms: 19590\n  end_ms: 22240\n- text: Fell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\n  start_ms: 22240\n  end_ms: 25710\n- text: They say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\n  start_ms: 25710\n  end_ms: 28610\n- text: Hood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\n  start_ms: 28610\n  end_ms: 31890\n- text: Think I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\n  start_ms: 31890\n  end_ms: 35010\n- text: Gettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\n  start_ms: 35010\n  end_ms: 38320\n- text: If you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\n  start_ms: 38320\n  end_ms: 41600\n- text: If you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\n  start_ms: 41600\n  end_ms: 44940\n- text: Can't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\n  start_ms: 44940\n  end_ms: 47950\n- text: Bust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\n  start_ms: 47950\n  end_ms: 51500\n- text: Reason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\n  start_ms: 51500\n  end_ms: 54230\n- text: If you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\n  start_ms: 54230\n  end_ms: 57830\n- text: Niggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\n  start_ms: 57830\n  end_ms: 60850\n- text: If me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\n  start_ms: 60850\n  end_ms: 65130\n- text: What else?\n  start_ms: 65130\n  end_ms: 65860\n- text: We gon' disrespect your election date\n  start_ms: 65860\n  end_ms: 68100\n- text: Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  start_ms: 68100\n  end_ms: 71090\n- text: My team tight\n  start_ms: 71090\n  end_ms: 71750\n- text: But we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  start_ms: 71750\n  end_ms: 74580\n- text: Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  start_ms: 74580\n  end_ms: 77700\n- text: Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  start_ms: 77700\n  end_ms: 80950\n- text: Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  start_ms: 80950\n  end_ms: 83840\n- text: Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  start_ms: 83840\n  end_ms: 87650\n- text: Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n  start_ms: 87650\n  end_ms: 90640\n- text: Me and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\n  start_ms: 90640\n  end_ms: 93740\n- text: Nic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\n  start_ms: 93740\n  end_ms: 96780\n- text: My tester said it's pure\n  start_ms: 96780\n  end_ms: 97840\n- text: When it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\n  start_ms: 97840\n  end_ms: 99910\n- text: Granny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\n  start_ms: 99910\n  end_ms: 103270\n- text: Now I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\n  start_ms: 103270\n  end_ms: 106230\n- text: Got pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\n  start_ms: 106230\n  end_ms: 109430\n- text: Fifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\n  start_ms: 109430\n  end_ms: 112640\n- text: At least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\n  start_ms: 112640\n  end_ms: 115970\n- text: I guess it wasn't meant for us\n  start_ms: 115970\n  end_ms: 117580\n- text: Young niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\n  start_ms: 117580\n  end_ms: 119990\n- text: Seventeen hour drives in a rented truck\n  start_ms: 119990\n  end_ms: 122380\n- text: Take it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\n  start_ms: 122380\n  end_ms: 125620\n- text: Several bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\n  start_ms: 125620\n  end_ms: 129020\n- text: Duffel Bag and Bo Jackson\n  start_ms: 129020\n  end_ms: 130690\n- text: Run over niggas who ain't got no traction\n  start_ms: 130690\n  end_ms: 133090\n- text: Touch down in your city, we dope taxin'\n  start_ms: 133090\n  end_ms: 135310\n- text: Free lunches in Section 8\n  start_ms: 135310\n  end_ms: 136900\n- text: Pray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\n  start_ms: 136900\n  end_ms: 139470\n- text: Blood money in the church's collection plate\n  start_ms: 139470\n  end_ms: 142830\n- text: We gon' disrespect your election date\n  start_ms: 142830\n  end_ms: 145270\n- text: Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  start_ms: 145270\n  end_ms: 148420\n- text: My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  start_ms: 148420\n  end_ms: 151960\n- text: Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  start_ms: 151960\n  end_ms: 154850\n- text: Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  start_ms: 154850\n  end_ms: 157880\n- text: Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  start_ms: 157880\n  end_ms: 161080\n- text: Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  start_ms: 161080\n  end_ms: 165060\n- text: Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n  start_ms: 165060\n  end_ms: 167880\n- text: Call it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\n  start_ms: 167880\n  end_ms: 170570\n- text: Have 'em raisin' the murder rate\n  start_ms: 170570\n  end_ms: 171830\n- text: While I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\n  start_ms: 171830\n  end_ms: 173520\n- text: Flushed away before they rush the plays\n  start_ms: 173520\n  end_ms: 175660\n- text: Before I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\n  start_ms: 175660\n  end_ms: 177440\n- text: Just give me another case, never told\n  start_ms: 177440\n  end_ms: 179680\n- text: Nobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\n  start_ms: 179680\n  end_ms: 183050\n- text: Gotta hustle to make these payments\n  start_ms: 183050\n  end_ms: 184590\n- text: Life on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\n  start_ms: 184590\n  end_ms: 186320\n- text: Tryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\n  start_ms: 186320\n  end_ms: 188380\n- text: My best friend with them rednecks and them racists\n  start_ms: 188380\n  end_ms: 191640\n- text: Got twenty-one in them cages, nigga\n  start_ms: 191640\n  end_ms: 193290\n- text: Faith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\n  start_ms: 193290\n  end_ms: 195860\n- text: Father, I don't have the answer\n  start_ms: 195860\n  end_ms: 197640\n- text: Pissin' out methazine from the Phantom\n  start_ms: 197640\n  end_ms: 199270\n- text: Me and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\n  start_ms: 199270\n  end_ms: 202570\n- text: Afghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\n  start_ms: 202570\n  end_ms: 205650\n- text: Got a bitch that come from Atlanta\n  start_ms: 205650\n  end_ms: 207560\n- text: Bringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\n  start_ms: 207560\n  end_ms: 208960\n- text: Stamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\n  start_ms: 208960\n  end_ms: 210650\n- text: Add some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n  start_ms: 210650\n  end_ms: 213960\n- text: Yeah, damn Gunna\n  start_ms: 213960\n  end_ms: 216720\n- text: I know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n  start_ms: 216720\n  end_ms: 220190\n- text: We gon' disrespect your election date\n  start_ms: 220190\n  end_ms: 223030\n- text: Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  start_ms: 223030\n  end_ms: 225550\n- text: My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  start_ms: 225550\n  end_ms: 229140\n- text: Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  start_ms: 229140\n  end_ms: 232290\n- text: Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  start_ms: 232290\n  end_ms: 235130\n- text: Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  start_ms: 235130\n  end_ms: 238430\n- text: Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  start_ms: 238430\n  end_ms: 242140\n- text: Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n  start_ms: 242140\n  end_ms: 247300\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 247300\nplain: |-\n  One time for the one time\n  Ayy, check\n\n  Me and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\n  Ask my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\n  Don't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\n  Fell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\n  They say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\n  Hood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\n  Think I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\n  Gettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\n  If you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\n  If you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\n  Can't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\n  Bust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\n  Reason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\n  If you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\n  Niggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\n  If me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\n  What else?\n\n  We gon' disrespect your election date\n  Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  My team tight\n  But we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\n  Me and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\n  Nic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\n  My tester said it's pure\n  When it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\n  Granny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\n  Now I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\n  Got pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\n  Fifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\n  At least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\n  I guess it wasn't meant for us\n  Young niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\n  Seventeen hour drives in a rented truck\n  Take it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\n  Several bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\n  Duffel Bag and Bo Jackson\n  Run over niggas who ain't got no traction\n  Touch down in your city, we dope taxin'\n  Free lunches in Section 8\n  Pray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\n  Blood money in the church's collection plate\n\n  We gon' disrespect your election date\n  Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\n  Call it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\n  Have 'em raisin' the murder rate\n  While I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\n  Flushed away before they rush the plays\n  Before I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\n  Just give me another case, never told\n  Nobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\n  Gotta hustle to make these payments\n  Life on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\n  Tryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\n  My best friend with them rednecks and them racists\n  Got twenty-one in them cages, nigga\n  Faith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\n  Father, I don't have the answer\n  Pissin' out methazine from the Phantom\n  Me and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\n  Afghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\n  Got a bitch that come from Atlanta\n  Bringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\n  Stamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\n  Add some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n\n  Yeah, damn Gunna\n  I know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n\n  We gon' disrespect your election date\n  Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n"},{"id":35596599,"name":"COLLECTION PLATES (feat. Young Chris)","trackName":"COLLECTION PLATES (feat. Young Chris)","artistName":"Ransom, Boldy James, Nicholas Craven, Young Chris","albumName":"Salvation for the Wicked","duration":270.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"One time for the one time\nAyy, check\n\nMe and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\nAsk my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\nDon't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\nFell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\nThey say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\nHood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\nThink I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\nGettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\nIf you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\nIf you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\nCan't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\nBust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\nReason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\nIf you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\nNiggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\nIf me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\nWhat else?\n\nWe gon' disrespect your election date\nTwo bands worth of singles in the collection plate\nMy team tight\nBut we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\nDamn, respect your rations and bless your plates\nOur Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\nShaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\nRest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\nTwo bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\nMe and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\nNic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\nMy tester said it's pure\nWhen it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\nGranny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\nNow I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\nGot pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\nFifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\nAt least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\nI guess it wasn't meant for us\nYoung niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\nSeventeen hour drives in a rented truck\nTake it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\nSeveral bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\nDuffel Bag and Bo Jackson\nRun over niggas who ain't got no traction\nTouch down in your city, we dope taxin'\nFree lunches in Section 8\nPray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\nBlood money in the church's collection plate\n\nWe gon' disrespect your election date\nTwo bands worth of singles in the collection plate\nMy team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\nDamn, respect your rations and bless your plates\nOur Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\nShaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\nRest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\nTwo bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\nCall it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\nHave 'em raisin' the murder rate\nWhile I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\nFlushed away before they rush the plays\nBefore I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\nJust give me another case, never told\nNobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\nGotta hustle to make these payments\nLife on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\nTryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\nMy best friend with them rednecks and them racists\nGot twenty-one in them cages, nigga\nFaith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\nFather, I don't have the answer\nPissin' out methazine from the Phantom\nMe and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\nAfghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\nGot a bitch that come from Atlanta\nBringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\nStamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\nAdd some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n\nYeah, damn Gunna\nI know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n\nWe gon' disrespect your election date\nTwo bands worth of singles in the collection plate\nMy team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\nDamn, respect your rations and bless your plates\nOur Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\nShaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\nRest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\nTwo bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates","syncedLyrics":"[00:03.40] One time for the one time\n[00:08.47] Ayy, check\n[00:13.10] Me and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\n[00:16.38] Ask my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\n[00:19.59] Don't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\n[00:22.24] Fell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\n[00:25.71] They say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\n[00:28.61] Hood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\n[00:31.89] Think I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\n[00:35.01] Gettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\n[00:38.32] If you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\n[00:41.60] If you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\n[00:44.94] Can't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\n[00:47.95] Bust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\n[00:51.50] Reason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\n[00:54.23] If you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\n[00:57.83] Niggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\n[01:00.85] If me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\n[01:05.13] What else?\n[01:05.86] We gon' disrespect your election date\n[01:08.10] Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n[01:11.09] My team tight\n[01:11.75] But we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n[01:14.58] Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n[01:17.70] Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n[01:20.95] Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n[01:23.84] Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n[01:27.65] Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n[01:30.64] Me and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\n[01:33.74] Nic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\n[01:36.78] My tester said it's pure\n[01:37.84] When it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\n[01:39.91] Granny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\n[01:43.27] Now I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\n[01:46.23] Got pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\n[01:49.43] Fifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\n[01:52.64] At least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\n[01:55.97] I guess it wasn't meant for us\n[01:57.58] Young niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\n[01:59.99] Seventeen hour drives in a rented truck\n[02:02.38] Take it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\n[02:05.62] Several bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\n[02:09.02] Duffel Bag and Bo Jackson\n[02:10.69] Run over niggas who ain't got no traction\n[02:13.09] Touch down in your city, we dope taxin'\n[02:15.31] Free lunches in Section 8\n[02:16.90] Pray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\n[02:19.47] Blood money in the church's collection plate\n[02:22.83] We gon' disrespect your election date\n[02:25.27] Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n[02:28.42] My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n[02:31.96] Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n[02:34.85] Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n[02:37.88] Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n[02:41.08] Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n[02:45.06] Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n[02:47.88] Call it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\n[02:50.57] Have 'em raisin' the murder rate\n[02:51.83] While I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\n[02:53.52] Flushed away before they rush the plays\n[02:55.66] Before I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\n[02:57.44] Just give me another case, never told\n[02:59.68] Nobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\n[03:03.05] Gotta hustle to make these payments\n[03:04.59] Life on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\n[03:06.32] Tryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\n[03:08.38] My best friend with them rednecks and them racists\n[03:11.64] Got twenty-one in them cages, nigga\n[03:13.29] Faith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\n[03:15.86] Father, I don't have the answer\n[03:17.64] Pissin' out methazine from the Phantom\n[03:19.27] Me and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\n[03:22.57] Afghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\n[03:25.65] Got a bitch that come from Atlanta\n[03:27.56] Bringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\n[03:28.96] Stamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\n[03:30.65] Add some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n[03:33.96] Yeah, damn Gunna\n[03:36.72] I know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n[03:40.19] We gon' disrespect your election date\n[03:43.03] Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n[03:45.55] My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n[03:49.14] Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n[03:52.29] Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n[03:55.13] Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n[03:58.43] Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n[04:02.14] Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n[04:07.30] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: COLLECTION PLATES (feat. Young Chris)\n  artist: Ransom, Boldy James, Nicholas Craven, Young Chris\n  album: Salvation for the Wicked\n  duration_ms: 270000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: One time for the one time\n  start_ms: 3400\n  end_ms: 8470\n- text: Ayy, check\n  start_ms: 8470\n  end_ms: 13100\n- text: Me and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\n  start_ms: 13100\n  end_ms: 16380\n- text: Ask my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\n  start_ms: 16380\n  end_ms: 19590\n- text: Don't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\n  start_ms: 19590\n  end_ms: 22240\n- text: Fell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\n  start_ms: 22240\n  end_ms: 25710\n- text: They say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\n  start_ms: 25710\n  end_ms: 28610\n- text: Hood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\n  start_ms: 28610\n  end_ms: 31890\n- text: Think I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\n  start_ms: 31890\n  end_ms: 35010\n- text: Gettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\n  start_ms: 35010\n  end_ms: 38320\n- text: If you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\n  start_ms: 38320\n  end_ms: 41600\n- text: If you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\n  start_ms: 41600\n  end_ms: 44940\n- text: Can't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\n  start_ms: 44940\n  end_ms: 47950\n- text: Bust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\n  start_ms: 47950\n  end_ms: 51500\n- text: Reason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\n  start_ms: 51500\n  end_ms: 54230\n- text: If you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\n  start_ms: 54230\n  end_ms: 57830\n- text: Niggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\n  start_ms: 57830\n  end_ms: 60850\n- text: If me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\n  start_ms: 60850\n  end_ms: 65130\n- text: What else?\n  start_ms: 65130\n  end_ms: 65860\n- text: We gon' disrespect your election date\n  start_ms: 65860\n  end_ms: 68100\n- text: Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  start_ms: 68100\n  end_ms: 71090\n- text: My team tight\n  start_ms: 71090\n  end_ms: 71750\n- text: But we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  start_ms: 71750\n  end_ms: 74580\n- text: Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  start_ms: 74580\n  end_ms: 77700\n- text: Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  start_ms: 77700\n  end_ms: 80950\n- text: Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  start_ms: 80950\n  end_ms: 83840\n- text: Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  start_ms: 83840\n  end_ms: 87650\n- text: Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n  start_ms: 87650\n  end_ms: 90640\n- text: Me and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\n  start_ms: 90640\n  end_ms: 93740\n- text: Nic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\n  start_ms: 93740\n  end_ms: 96780\n- text: My tester said it's pure\n  start_ms: 96780\n  end_ms: 97840\n- text: When it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\n  start_ms: 97840\n  end_ms: 99910\n- text: Granny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\n  start_ms: 99910\n  end_ms: 103270\n- text: Now I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\n  start_ms: 103270\n  end_ms: 106230\n- text: Got pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\n  start_ms: 106230\n  end_ms: 109430\n- text: Fifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\n  start_ms: 109430\n  end_ms: 112640\n- text: At least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\n  start_ms: 112640\n  end_ms: 115970\n- text: I guess it wasn't meant for us\n  start_ms: 115970\n  end_ms: 117580\n- text: Young niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\n  start_ms: 117580\n  end_ms: 119990\n- text: Seventeen hour drives in a rented truck\n  start_ms: 119990\n  end_ms: 122380\n- text: Take it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\n  start_ms: 122380\n  end_ms: 125620\n- text: Several bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\n  start_ms: 125620\n  end_ms: 129020\n- text: Duffel Bag and Bo Jackson\n  start_ms: 129020\n  end_ms: 130690\n- text: Run over niggas who ain't got no traction\n  start_ms: 130690\n  end_ms: 133090\n- text: Touch down in your city, we dope taxin'\n  start_ms: 133090\n  end_ms: 135310\n- text: Free lunches in Section 8\n  start_ms: 135310\n  end_ms: 136900\n- text: Pray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\n  start_ms: 136900\n  end_ms: 139470\n- text: Blood money in the church's collection plate\n  start_ms: 139470\n  end_ms: 142830\n- text: We gon' disrespect your election date\n  start_ms: 142830\n  end_ms: 145270\n- text: Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  start_ms: 145270\n  end_ms: 148420\n- text: My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  start_ms: 148420\n  end_ms: 151960\n- text: Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  start_ms: 151960\n  end_ms: 154850\n- text: Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  start_ms: 154850\n  end_ms: 157880\n- text: Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  start_ms: 157880\n  end_ms: 161080\n- text: Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  start_ms: 161080\n  end_ms: 165060\n- text: Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n  start_ms: 165060\n  end_ms: 167880\n- text: Call it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\n  start_ms: 167880\n  end_ms: 170570\n- text: Have 'em raisin' the murder rate\n  start_ms: 170570\n  end_ms: 171830\n- text: While I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\n  start_ms: 171830\n  end_ms: 173520\n- text: Flushed away before they rush the plays\n  start_ms: 173520\n  end_ms: 175660\n- text: Before I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\n  start_ms: 175660\n  end_ms: 177440\n- text: Just give me another case, never told\n  start_ms: 177440\n  end_ms: 179680\n- text: Nobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\n  start_ms: 179680\n  end_ms: 183050\n- text: Gotta hustle to make these payments\n  start_ms: 183050\n  end_ms: 184590\n- text: Life on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\n  start_ms: 184590\n  end_ms: 186320\n- text: Tryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\n  start_ms: 186320\n  end_ms: 188380\n- text: My best friend with them rednecks and them racists\n  start_ms: 188380\n  end_ms: 191640\n- text: Got twenty-one in them cages, nigga\n  start_ms: 191640\n  end_ms: 193290\n- text: Faith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\n  start_ms: 193290\n  end_ms: 195860\n- text: Father, I don't have the answer\n  start_ms: 195860\n  end_ms: 197640\n- text: Pissin' out methazine from the Phantom\n  start_ms: 197640\n  end_ms: 199270\n- text: Me and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\n  start_ms: 199270\n  end_ms: 202570\n- text: Afghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\n  start_ms: 202570\n  end_ms: 205650\n- text: Got a bitch that come from Atlanta\n  start_ms: 205650\n  end_ms: 207560\n- text: Bringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\n  start_ms: 207560\n  end_ms: 208960\n- text: Stamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\n  start_ms: 208960\n  end_ms: 210650\n- text: Add some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n  start_ms: 210650\n  end_ms: 213960\n- text: Yeah, damn Gunna\n  start_ms: 213960\n  end_ms: 216720\n- text: I know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n  start_ms: 216720\n  end_ms: 220190\n- text: We gon' disrespect your election date\n  start_ms: 220190\n  end_ms: 223030\n- text: Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  start_ms: 223030\n  end_ms: 225550\n- text: My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  start_ms: 225550\n  end_ms: 229140\n- text: Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  start_ms: 229140\n  end_ms: 232290\n- text: Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  start_ms: 232290\n  end_ms: 235130\n- text: Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  start_ms: 235130\n  end_ms: 238430\n- text: Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  start_ms: 238430\n  end_ms: 242140\n- text: Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n  start_ms: 242140\n  end_ms: 247300\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 247300\nplain: |-\n  One time for the one time\n  Ayy, check\n\n  Me and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\n  Ask my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\n  Don't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\n  Fell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\n  They say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\n  Hood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\n  Think I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\n  Gettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\n  If you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\n  If you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\n  Can't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\n  Bust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\n  Reason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\n  If you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\n  Niggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\n  If me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\n  What else?\n\n  We gon' disrespect your election date\n  Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  My team tight\n  But we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\n  Me and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\n  Nic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\n  My tester said it's pure\n  When it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\n  Granny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\n  Now I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\n  Got pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\n  Fifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\n  At least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\n  I guess it wasn't meant for us\n  Young niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\n  Seventeen hour drives in a rented truck\n  Take it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\n  Several bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\n  Duffel Bag and Bo Jackson\n  Run over niggas who ain't got no traction\n  Touch down in your city, we dope taxin'\n  Free lunches in Section 8\n  Pray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\n  Blood money in the church's collection plate\n\n  We gon' disrespect your election date\n  Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\n  Call it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\n  Have 'em raisin' the murder rate\n  While I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\n  Flushed away before they rush the plays\n  Before I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\n  Just give me another case, never told\n  Nobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\n  Gotta hustle to make these payments\n  Life on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\n  Tryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\n  My best friend with them rednecks and them racists\n  Got twenty-one in them cages, nigga\n  Faith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\n  Father, I don't have the answer\n  Pissin' out methazine from the Phantom\n  Me and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\n  Afghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\n  Got a bitch that come from Atlanta\n  Bringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\n  Stamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\n  Add some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n\n  Yeah, damn Gunna\n  I know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n\n  We gon' disrespect your election date\n  Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n"},{"id":29205503,"name":"COLLECTION PLATES (feat. Young Chris)","trackName":"COLLECTION PLATES (feat. Young Chris)","artistName":"Boldy James, Nicholas Craven, Ransom, Young Chris","albumName":"Salvation for the Wicked","duration":271.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"One time for the one time\nAyy, check\n\nMe and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\nAsk my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\nDon't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\nFell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\nThey say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\nHood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\nThink I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\nGettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\nIf you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\nIf you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\nCan't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\nBust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\nReason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\nIf you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\nNiggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\nIf me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\nWhat else?\n\nWe gon' disrespect your election date\nTwo bands worth of singles in the collection plate\nMy team tight\nBut we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\nDamn, respect your rations and bless your plates\nOur Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\nShaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\nRest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\nTwo bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\nMe and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\nNic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\nMy tester said it's pure\nWhen it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\nGranny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\nNow I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\nGot pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\nFifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\nAt least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\nI guess it wasn't meant for us\nYoung niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\nSeventeen hour drives in a rented truck\nTake it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\nSeveral bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\nDuffel Bag and Bo Jackson\nRun over niggas who ain't got no traction\nTouch down in your city, we dope taxin'\nFree lunches in Section 8\nPray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\nBlood money in the church's collection plate\n\nWe gon' disrespect your election date\nTwo bands worth of singles in the collection plate\nMy team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\nDamn, respect your rations and bless your plates\nOur Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\nShaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\nRest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\nTwo bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\nCall it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\nHave 'em raisin' the murder rate\nWhile I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\nFlushed away before they rush the plays\nBefore I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\nJust give me another case, never told\nNobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\nGotta hustle to make these payments\nLife on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\nTryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\nMy best friend with them rednecks and them racists\nGot twenty-one in them cages, nigga\nFaith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\nFather, I don't have the answer\nPissin' out methazine from the Phantom\nMe and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\nAfghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\nGot a bitch that come from Atlanta\nBringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\nStamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\nAdd some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n\nYeah, damn Gunna\nI know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n\nWe gon' disrespect your election date\nTwo bands worth of singles in the collection plate\nMy team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\nDamn, respect your rations and bless your plates\nOur Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\nShaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\nRest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\nTwo bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates","syncedLyrics":"[00:03.40] One time for the one time\n[00:08.47] Ayy, check\n[00:13.10] Me and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\n[00:16.38] Ask my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\n[00:19.59] Don't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\n[00:22.24] Fell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\n[00:25.71] They say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\n[00:28.61] Hood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\n[00:31.89] Think I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\n[00:35.01] Gettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\n[00:38.32] If you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\n[00:41.60] If you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\n[00:44.94] Can't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\n[00:47.95] Bust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\n[00:51.50] Reason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\n[00:54.23] If you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\n[00:57.83] Niggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\n[01:00.85] If me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\n[01:05.13] What else?\n[01:05.86] We gon' disrespect your election date\n[01:08.10] Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n[01:11.09] My team tight\n[01:11.75] But we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n[01:14.58] Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n[01:17.70] Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n[01:20.95] Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n[01:23.84] Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n[01:27.65] Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n[01:30.64] Me and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\n[01:33.74] Nic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\n[01:36.78] My tester said it's pure\n[01:37.84] When it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\n[01:39.91] Granny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\n[01:43.27] Now I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\n[01:46.23] Got pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\n[01:49.43] Fifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\n[01:52.64] At least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\n[01:55.97] I guess it wasn't meant for us\n[01:57.58] Young niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\n[01:59.99] Seventeen hour drives in a rented truck\n[02:02.38] Take it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\n[02:05.62] Several bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\n[02:09.02] Duffel Bag and Bo Jackson\n[02:10.69] Run over niggas who ain't got no traction\n[02:13.09] Touch down in your city, we dope taxin'\n[02:15.31] Free lunches in Section 8\n[02:16.90] Pray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\n[02:19.47] Blood money in the church's collection plate\n[02:22.83] We gon' disrespect your election date\n[02:25.27] Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n[02:28.42] My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n[02:31.96] Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n[02:34.85] Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n[02:37.88] Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n[02:41.08] Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n[02:45.06] Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n[02:47.88] Call it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\n[02:50.57] Have 'em raisin' the murder rate\n[02:51.83] While I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\n[02:53.52] Flushed away before they rush the plays\n[02:55.66] Before I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\n[02:57.44] Just give me another case, never told\n[02:59.68] Nobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\n[03:03.05] Gotta hustle to make these payments\n[03:04.59] Life on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\n[03:06.32] Tryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\n[03:08.38] My best friend with them rednecks and them racists\n[03:11.64] Got twenty-one in them cages, nigga\n[03:13.29] Faith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\n[03:15.86] Father, I don't have the answer\n[03:17.64] Pissin' out methazine from the Phantom\n[03:19.27] Me and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\n[03:22.57] Afghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\n[03:25.65] Got a bitch that come from Atlanta\n[03:27.56] Bringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\n[03:28.96] Stamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\n[03:30.65] Add some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n[03:33.96] Yeah, damn Gunna\n[03:36.72] I know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n[03:40.19] We gon' disrespect your election date\n[03:43.03] Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n[03:45.55] My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n[03:49.14] Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n[03:52.29] Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n[03:55.13] Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n[03:58.43] Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n[04:02.14] Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n[04:07.30] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: COLLECTION PLATES (feat. Young Chris)\n  artist: Boldy James, Nicholas Craven, Ransom, Young Chris\n  album: Salvation for the Wicked\n  duration_ms: 271000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: One time for the one time\n  start_ms: 3400\n  end_ms: 8470\n- text: Ayy, check\n  start_ms: 8470\n  end_ms: 13100\n- text: Me and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\n  start_ms: 13100\n  end_ms: 16380\n- text: Ask my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\n  start_ms: 16380\n  end_ms: 19590\n- text: Don't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\n  start_ms: 19590\n  end_ms: 22240\n- text: Fell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\n  start_ms: 22240\n  end_ms: 25710\n- text: They say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\n  start_ms: 25710\n  end_ms: 28610\n- text: Hood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\n  start_ms: 28610\n  end_ms: 31890\n- text: Think I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\n  start_ms: 31890\n  end_ms: 35010\n- text: Gettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\n  start_ms: 35010\n  end_ms: 38320\n- text: If you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\n  start_ms: 38320\n  end_ms: 41600\n- text: If you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\n  start_ms: 41600\n  end_ms: 44940\n- text: Can't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\n  start_ms: 44940\n  end_ms: 47950\n- text: Bust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\n  start_ms: 47950\n  end_ms: 51500\n- text: Reason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\n  start_ms: 51500\n  end_ms: 54230\n- text: If you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\n  start_ms: 54230\n  end_ms: 57830\n- text: Niggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\n  start_ms: 57830\n  end_ms: 60850\n- text: If me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\n  start_ms: 60850\n  end_ms: 65130\n- text: What else?\n  start_ms: 65130\n  end_ms: 65860\n- text: We gon' disrespect your election date\n  start_ms: 65860\n  end_ms: 68100\n- text: Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  start_ms: 68100\n  end_ms: 71090\n- text: My team tight\n  start_ms: 71090\n  end_ms: 71750\n- text: But we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  start_ms: 71750\n  end_ms: 74580\n- text: Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  start_ms: 74580\n  end_ms: 77700\n- text: Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  start_ms: 77700\n  end_ms: 80950\n- text: Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  start_ms: 80950\n  end_ms: 83840\n- text: Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  start_ms: 83840\n  end_ms: 87650\n- text: Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n  start_ms: 87650\n  end_ms: 90640\n- text: Me and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\n  start_ms: 90640\n  end_ms: 93740\n- text: Nic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\n  start_ms: 93740\n  end_ms: 96780\n- text: My tester said it's pure\n  start_ms: 96780\n  end_ms: 97840\n- text: When it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\n  start_ms: 97840\n  end_ms: 99910\n- text: Granny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\n  start_ms: 99910\n  end_ms: 103270\n- text: Now I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\n  start_ms: 103270\n  end_ms: 106230\n- text: Got pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\n  start_ms: 106230\n  end_ms: 109430\n- text: Fifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\n  start_ms: 109430\n  end_ms: 112640\n- text: At least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\n  start_ms: 112640\n  end_ms: 115970\n- text: I guess it wasn't meant for us\n  start_ms: 115970\n  end_ms: 117580\n- text: Young niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\n  start_ms: 117580\n  end_ms: 119990\n- text: Seventeen hour drives in a rented truck\n  start_ms: 119990\n  end_ms: 122380\n- text: Take it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\n  start_ms: 122380\n  end_ms: 125620\n- text: Several bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\n  start_ms: 125620\n  end_ms: 129020\n- text: Duffel Bag and Bo Jackson\n  start_ms: 129020\n  end_ms: 130690\n- text: Run over niggas who ain't got no traction\n  start_ms: 130690\n  end_ms: 133090\n- text: Touch down in your city, we dope taxin'\n  start_ms: 133090\n  end_ms: 135310\n- text: Free lunches in Section 8\n  start_ms: 135310\n  end_ms: 136900\n- text: Pray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\n  start_ms: 136900\n  end_ms: 139470\n- text: Blood money in the church's collection plate\n  start_ms: 139470\n  end_ms: 142830\n- text: We gon' disrespect your election date\n  start_ms: 142830\n  end_ms: 145270\n- text: Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  start_ms: 145270\n  end_ms: 148420\n- text: My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  start_ms: 148420\n  end_ms: 151960\n- text: Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  start_ms: 151960\n  end_ms: 154850\n- text: Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  start_ms: 154850\n  end_ms: 157880\n- text: Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  start_ms: 157880\n  end_ms: 161080\n- text: Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  start_ms: 161080\n  end_ms: 165060\n- text: Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n  start_ms: 165060\n  end_ms: 167880\n- text: Call it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\n  start_ms: 167880\n  end_ms: 170570\n- text: Have 'em raisin' the murder rate\n  start_ms: 170570\n  end_ms: 171830\n- text: While I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\n  start_ms: 171830\n  end_ms: 173520\n- text: Flushed away before they rush the plays\n  start_ms: 173520\n  end_ms: 175660\n- text: Before I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\n  start_ms: 175660\n  end_ms: 177440\n- text: Just give me another case, never told\n  start_ms: 177440\n  end_ms: 179680\n- text: Nobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\n  start_ms: 179680\n  end_ms: 183050\n- text: Gotta hustle to make these payments\n  start_ms: 183050\n  end_ms: 184590\n- text: Life on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\n  start_ms: 184590\n  end_ms: 186320\n- text: Tryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\n  start_ms: 186320\n  end_ms: 188380\n- text: My best friend with them rednecks and them racists\n  start_ms: 188380\n  end_ms: 191640\n- text: Got twenty-one in them cages, nigga\n  start_ms: 191640\n  end_ms: 193290\n- text: Faith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\n  start_ms: 193290\n  end_ms: 195860\n- text: Father, I don't have the answer\n  start_ms: 195860\n  end_ms: 197640\n- text: Pissin' out methazine from the Phantom\n  start_ms: 197640\n  end_ms: 199270\n- text: Me and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\n  start_ms: 199270\n  end_ms: 202570\n- text: Afghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\n  start_ms: 202570\n  end_ms: 205650\n- text: Got a bitch that come from Atlanta\n  start_ms: 205650\n  end_ms: 207560\n- text: Bringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\n  start_ms: 207560\n  end_ms: 208960\n- text: Stamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\n  start_ms: 208960\n  end_ms: 210650\n- text: Add some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n  start_ms: 210650\n  end_ms: 213960\n- text: Yeah, damn Gunna\n  start_ms: 213960\n  end_ms: 216720\n- text: I know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n  start_ms: 216720\n  end_ms: 220190\n- text: We gon' disrespect your election date\n  start_ms: 220190\n  end_ms: 223030\n- text: Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  start_ms: 223030\n  end_ms: 225550\n- text: My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  start_ms: 225550\n  end_ms: 229140\n- text: Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  start_ms: 229140\n  end_ms: 232290\n- text: Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  start_ms: 232290\n  end_ms: 235130\n- text: Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  start_ms: 235130\n  end_ms: 238430\n- text: Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  start_ms: 238430\n  end_ms: 242140\n- text: Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n  start_ms: 242140\n  end_ms: 247300\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 247300\nplain: |-\n  One time for the one time\n  Ayy, check\n\n  Me and Ran' both did what we had to do to feed the fam\n  Ask my cousin Peanut, did I come up off that Peter Pan?\n  Don't eat no dinner on that dish before you bleach it\n  Fell asleep durin' church, I never listened to the preacher\n  They say music saved my life, maybe, really a believer\n  Hood flicked me with the work but I had hid it in the speaker\n  Think I'm headed back to jail every time I tap a beat\n  Gettin' better at performin', standin' at the kitchen sink\n  If you standin' on B-I and really have it, we should link\n  If you woke up broke this mornin', shouldn't have never went to sleep\n  Can't get mad, can see a CI, he was never in the street\n  Bust presi' on my wrist look like I'm finna get impeached\n  Reason I teach, always taught to practice what I preach\n  If you feed a sucker, he just grow to be a bigger leech\n  Niggas ain't cut, they only tough when they a million deep\n  If me and bro shoot him at the same time, is that a jinx?\n  What else?\n\n  We gon' disrespect your election date\n  Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  My team tight\n  But we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\n  Me and Boldy in a Suburban thumbin' three hundred grand\n  Nic' conjurin' them demons, this beat done summoned the Son of Sam\n  My tester said it's pure\n  When it froze his gums and then numbed his hands\n  Granny said, \"What you don't overcome, you won't understand\"\n  Now I'm ridin' filthy, a loaded gun and a hundred grams\n  Got pulled over, nerves so jumpy that I got stomach cramps\n  Fifty bundles with our names on 'em and every one is stamped\n  At least ten years if them pigs decided to run this van\n  I guess it wasn't meant for us\n  Young niggas wild, brave, and adventurous\n  Seventeen hour drives in a rented truck\n  Take it back to U-Haul, dent it up, we'd send it up\n  Several bottles and empty cups, just tipped 'em twenty bucks\n  Duffel Bag and Bo Jackson\n  Run over niggas who ain't got no traction\n  Touch down in your city, we dope taxin'\n  Free lunches in Section 8\n  Pray over scales in hopes that we bless the weight\n  Blood money in the church's collection plate\n\n  We gon' disrespect your election date\n  Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n\n  Call it chef debate, Raekwon with The Purple Tape\n  Have 'em raisin' the murder rate\n  While I'm chillin' in Turks and Caic's\n  Flushed away before they rush the plays\n  Before I fall, don't tell 'em, don't fuck the states\n  Just give me another case, never told\n  Nobody incarcerated, never dropped a statement, still on the pavement\n  Gotta hustle to make these payments\n  Life on the line while I'm duckin' these agents\n  Tryna survive off minimum wages, nigga\n  My best friend with them rednecks and them racists\n  Got twenty-one in them cages, nigga\n  Faith be with us, God, my momma fightin' cancer\n  Father, I don't have the answer\n  Pissin' out methazine from the Phantom\n  Me and my hammer, cannon between, we doin' 'em dirty, country grammar\n  Afghani', bringin' the smoke down that chimney, come see Santa\n  Got a bitch that come from Atlanta\n  Bringin' the grams, I cook her like nana\n  Stamp that pot with Boldy and Ransom\n  Add some Gunna, we got us an anthem, motherfuckers\n\n  Yeah, damn Gunna\n  I know they gon' feel this shit here, that's facts\n\n  We gon' disrespect your election date\n  Two bands worth of singles in the collection plate\n  My team tight, but we rather catch a pass than to catch a case\n  Damn, respect your rations and bless your plates\n  Our Father, please bless this food and whatever else at stake\n  Shaheem's in the box when he could've made it at welterweight\n  Rest in peace to niggas you felt was great but then fell from grace\n  Two bands wrapped in rubber bands in collection plates\n"}]