[{"id":33640149,"name":"Live from the Roxy (feat. Boldy James)","trackName":"Live from the Roxy (feat. Boldy James)","artistName":"Ransom","albumName":"Live from the Roxy (feat. Boldy James)","duration":166.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(La música de Harry Fraud)\n\nLive from the Roxy, we got pink teens and Oxys\nThorazine and morphine, blue jeans, no Versace\nBrickfield Donahue, no Joanie or Chachi\nCook it up right in front of you, somethin' like hibachi\nStreetlight, pocket full of bands, mariachi\n\nThree dice in my hand, look like I'm playin' Yahtzee\nPlain Jane Yachty, push a foreign like I'm Fivi\nWalkin' out of Neiman's like I inked a deal with Ghazi\nDon't love no thotties, sellin' birds, catchin' bodies\nOnly sport I ever played, only game, only hobby\n\nHope all is well, on that road, it get kind of rocky\nWe call it hell 'cause my block hotter than wasabi\nWhite hard as stucco, shit look like epoxy\nI know these niggas wanna rob me while I got my Glocky\nBut now we Somerset trippin', catchin' bricks from papi\nMoney over my ex-bitch, I put that shit on Moxie\n\nYeah, I don't know what you all want from me (At all)\nStay to myself 'cause misery loves company\nI know I turned my back on some people\nWho tried to front on me (I know)\nYeah, 'cause misery loves company\nScarred by a lil' nigga I treated just like a son to me (Ah)\nDamn, can't repeat what that nigga done to me (Nah)\nNah, but I'm livin' my life comfortably\nNo one can see 'cause I know misery loves company\n\nJust play my shit to start each morning (Yes)\nHere go a brief warning\nWhy don't you turn your back when the streets calling? (Damn)\nThe fiends movin' like they sleepwalkin'\nI don't sleep often (Nah)\nThe cousin of death is restin' a cheap coffin\n\nHeard through the wire that we keep warring (Yeah)\nBut the words of Christopher Wallace in\nOur heads are sayin', \"Keep scoring\" (Yes)\nPlaying Chris and Snoop in a hooptie while police swarmin'\nWe wanna be more, so we looked for Wallace to beat Jordan\n\nHuh, now we pile up in sweet foreigns\n\nStoic killers that sign peace offerings\n\nDivide each portion, savage, pourin' wine out of chic porcelain\nStay out my lane with that weak offense (Stay back)\nA lion never slept in the jungle (Never)\nUsed to be fair 'til I read the definition of humble\n\nNow I'm the greatest, I say it, never whisper or mumble (Shh)\nI stayed on the block when the stomach of my sister would rumble (Ah)\nThrough constant repetition and struggle (Yeah)\n\nSurvived the game without a coach, exhibition, or huddle\nMy mission is subtle, I motivate, you ain't supposed to wait\nYou'd rather live in shit than have us\nWitness you grippin' a shovel (That's real)\nI'm like Van Gogh when his hands flow\nBut in a bando, I'm like Rambo when he land blows\nY'all niggas Sambos, I'm a godfather like Brando (Yeah)\nOut in Sandro with a tanned ho in a Lambo'\n\nI think she Anglo, so I told her ass that she can't go (Hahaha)\nShe on the 'Gram 'stead of watchin' her lil' man grow\nCut from a different cloth, you can only\nReap what your hands sow (That's it)\nWhat's God-given is Ran's flow","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.26] (La música de Harry Fraud)\n[00:12.06] Live from the Roxy, we got pink teens and Oxys\n[00:14.43] Thorazine and morphine, blue jeans, no Versace\n[00:17.94] Brickfield Donahue, no Joanie or Chachi\n[00:20.64] Cook it up right in front of you, somethin' like hibachi\n[00:23.72] Streetlight, pocket full of bands, mariachi\n[00:26.67] Three dice in my hand, look like I'm playin' Yahtzee\n[00:29.58] Plain Jane Yachty, push a foreign like I'm Fivi\n[00:32.20] Walkin' out of Neiman's like I inked a deal with Ghazi\n[00:34.94] Don't love no thotties, sellin' birds, catchin' bodies\n[00:37.20] Only sport I ever played, only game, only hobby\n[00:40.67] Hope all is well, on that road, it get kind of rocky\n[00:43.56] We call it hell 'cause my block hotter than wasabi\n[00:46.57] White hard as stucco, shit look like epoxy\n[00:49.37] I know these niggas wanna rob me while I got my Glocky\n[00:52.13] But now we Somerset trippin', catchin' bricks from papi\n[00:55.00] Money over my ex-bitch, I put that shit on Moxie\n[00:58.03] Yeah, I don't know what you all want from me (At all)\n[01:00.60] Stay to myself 'cause misery loves company\n[01:03.22] I know I turned my back on some people\n[01:04.93] Who tried to front on me (I know)\n[01:06.54] Yeah, 'cause misery loves company\n[01:08.84] Scarred by a lil' nigga I treated just like a son to me (Ah)\n[01:12.31] Damn, can't repeat what that nigga done to me (Nah)\n[01:15.16] Nah, but I'm livin' my life comfortably\n[01:17.58] No one can see 'cause I know misery loves company\n[01:20.66] Just play my shit to start each morning (Yes)\n[01:22.89] Here go a brief warning\n[01:24.17] Why don't you turn your back when the streets calling? (Damn)\n[01:26.45] The fiends movin' like they sleepwalkin'\n[01:28.48] I don't sleep often (Nah)\n[01:29.64] The cousin of death is restin' a cheap coffin\n[01:32.02] Heard through the wire that we keep warring (Yeah)\n[01:34.32] But the words of Christopher Wallace in\n[01:36.08] Our heads are sayin', \"Keep scoring\" (Yes)\n[01:37.87] Playing Chris and Snoop in a hooptie while police swarmin'\n[01:40.44] We wanna be more, so we looked for Wallace to beat Jordan\n[01:43.76] Huh, now we pile up in sweet foreigns\n[01:46.45] Stoic killers that sign peace offerings\n[01:48.64] Divide each portion, savage, pourin' wine out of chic porcelain\n[01:53.00] Stay out my lane with that weak offense (Stay back)\n[01:55.86] A lion never slept in the jungle (Never)\n[01:57.81] Used to be fair 'til I read the definition of humble\n[02:00.77] Now I'm the greatest, I say it, never whisper or mumble (Shh)\n[02:03.33] I stayed on the block when the stomach of my sister would rumble (Ah)\n[02:07.28] Through constant repetition and struggle (Yeah)\n[02:09.21] Survived the game without a coach, exhibition, or huddle\n[02:11.94] My mission is subtle, I motivate, you ain't supposed to wait\n[02:14.72] You'd rather live in shit than have us\n[02:16.21] Witness you grippin' a shovel (That's real)\n[02:18.66] I'm like Van Gogh when his hands flow\n[02:20.56] But in a bando, I'm like Rambo when he land blows\n[02:23.35] Y'all niggas Sambos, I'm a godfather like Brando (Yeah)\n[02:26.41] Out in Sandro with a tanned ho in a Lambo'\n[02:29.18] I think she Anglo, so I told her ass that she can't go (Hahaha)\n[02:32.13] She on the 'Gram 'stead of watchin' her lil' man grow\n[02:34.69] Cut from a different cloth, you can only\n[02:36.33] Reap what your hands sow (That's it)\n[02:38.72] What's God-given is Ran's flow\n[02:45.98] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Live from the Roxy (feat. Boldy James)\n artist: Ransom\n album: Live from the Roxy (feat. Boldy James)\n duration_ms: 166000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: (La música de Harry Fraud)\n start_ms: 1260\n end_ms: 12060\n- text: Live from the Roxy, we got pink teens and Oxys\n start_ms: 12060\n end_ms: 14430\n- text: Thorazine and morphine, blue jeans, no Versace\n start_ms: 14430\n end_ms: 17940\n- text: Brickfield Donahue, no Joanie or Chachi\n start_ms: 17940\n end_ms: 20640\n- text: Cook it up right in front of you, somethin' like hibachi\n start_ms: 20640\n end_ms: 23720\n- text: Streetlight, pocket full of bands, mariachi\n start_ms: 23720\n end_ms: 26670\n- text: Three dice in my hand, look like I'm playin' Yahtzee\n start_ms: 26670\n end_ms: 29580\n- text: Plain Jane Yachty, push a foreign like I'm Fivi\n start_ms: 29580\n end_ms: 32200\n- text: Walkin' out of Neiman's like I inked a deal with Ghazi\n start_ms: 32200\n end_ms: 34940\n- text: Don't love no thotties, sellin' birds, catchin' bodies\n start_ms: 34940\n end_ms: 37200\n- text: Only sport I ever played, only game, only hobby\n start_ms: 37200\n end_ms: 40670\n- text: Hope all is well, on that road, it get kind of rocky\n start_ms: 40670\n end_ms: 43560\n- text: We call it hell 'cause my block hotter than wasabi\n start_ms: 43560\n end_ms: 46570\n- text: White hard as stucco, shit look like epoxy\n start_ms: 46570\n end_ms: 49370\n- text: I know these niggas wanna rob me while I got my Glocky\n start_ms: 49370\n end_ms: 52130\n- text: But now we Somerset trippin', catchin' bricks from papi\n start_ms: 52130\n end_ms: 55000\n- text: Money over my ex-bitch, I put that shit on Moxie\n start_ms: 55000\n end_ms: 58030\n- text: Yeah, I don't know what you all want from me (At all)\n start_ms: 58030\n end_ms: 60600\n- text: Stay to myself 'cause misery loves company\n start_ms: 60600\n end_ms: 63220\n- text: I know I turned my back on some people\n start_ms: 63220\n end_ms: 64930\n- text: Who tried to front on me (I know)\n start_ms: 64930\n end_ms: 66540\n- text: Yeah, 'cause misery loves company\n start_ms: 66540\n end_ms: 68840\n- text: Scarred by a lil' nigga I treated just like a son to me (Ah)\n start_ms: 68840\n end_ms: 72310\n- text: Damn, can't repeat what that nigga done to me (Nah)\n start_ms: 72310\n end_ms: 75160\n- text: Nah, but I'm livin' my life comfortably\n start_ms: 75160\n end_ms: 77580\n- text: No one can see 'cause I know misery loves company\n start_ms: 77580\n end_ms: 80660\n- text: Just play my shit to start each morning (Yes)\n start_ms: 80660\n end_ms: 82890\n- text: Here go a brief warning\n start_ms: 82890\n end_ms: 84170\n- text: Why don't you turn your back when the streets calling? (Damn)\n start_ms: 84170\n end_ms: 86450\n- text: The fiends movin' like they sleepwalkin'\n start_ms: 86450\n end_ms: 88480\n- text: I don't sleep often (Nah)\n start_ms: 88480\n end_ms: 89640\n- text: The cousin of death is restin' a cheap coffin\n start_ms: 89640\n end_ms: 92020\n- text: Heard through the wire that we keep warring (Yeah)\n start_ms: 92020\n end_ms: 94320\n- text: But the words of Christopher Wallace in\n start_ms: 94320\n end_ms: 96080\n- text: Our heads are sayin', \"Keep scoring\" (Yes)\n start_ms: 96080\n end_ms: 97870\n- text: Playing Chris and Snoop in a hooptie while police swarmin'\n start_ms: 97870\n end_ms: 100440\n- text: We wanna be more, so we looked for Wallace to beat Jordan\n start_ms: 100440\n end_ms: 103760\n- text: Huh, now we pile up in sweet foreigns\n start_ms: 103760\n end_ms: 106450\n- text: Stoic killers that sign peace offerings\n start_ms: 106450\n end_ms: 108640\n- text: Divide each portion, savage, pourin' wine out of chic porcelain\n start_ms: 108640\n end_ms: 113000\n- text: Stay out my lane with that weak offense (Stay back)\n start_ms: 113000\n end_ms: 115860\n- text: A lion never slept in the jungle (Never)\n start_ms: 115860\n end_ms: 117810\n- text: Used to be fair 'til I read the definition of humble\n start_ms: 117810\n end_ms: 120770\n- text: Now I'm the greatest, I say it, never whisper or mumble (Shh)\n start_ms: 120770\n end_ms: 123330\n- text: I stayed on the block when the stomach of my sister would rumble (Ah)\n start_ms: 123330\n end_ms: 127280\n- text: Through constant repetition and struggle (Yeah)\n start_ms: 127280\n end_ms: 129210\n- text: Survived the game without a coach, exhibition, or huddle\n start_ms: 129210\n end_ms: 131940\n- text: My mission is subtle, I motivate, you ain't supposed to wait\n start_ms: 131940\n end_ms: 134720\n- text: You'd rather live in shit than have us\n start_ms: 134720\n end_ms: 136210\n- text: Witness you grippin' a shovel (That's real)\n start_ms: 136210\n end_ms: 138660\n- text: I'm like Van Gogh when his hands flow\n start_ms: 138660\n end_ms: 140560\n- text: But in a bando, I'm like Rambo when he land blows\n start_ms: 140560\n end_ms: 143350\n- text: Y'all niggas Sambos, I'm a godfather like Brando (Yeah)\n start_ms: 143350\n end_ms: 146410\n- text: Out in Sandro with a tanned ho in a Lambo'\n start_ms: 146410\n end_ms: 149180\n- text: I think she Anglo, so I told her ass that she can't go (Hahaha)\n start_ms: 149180\n end_ms: 152130\n- text: She on the 'Gram 'stead of watchin' her lil' man grow\n start_ms: 152130\n end_ms: 154690\n- text: Cut from a different cloth, you can only\n start_ms: 154690\n end_ms: 156330\n- text: Reap what your hands sow (That's it)\n start_ms: 156330\n end_ms: 158720\n- text: What's God-given is Ran's flow\n start_ms: 158720\n end_ms: 165980\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 165980\nplain: |-\n (La música de Harry Fraud)\n\n Live from the Roxy, we got pink teens and Oxys\n Thorazine and morphine, blue jeans, no Versace\n Brickfield Donahue, no Joanie or Chachi\n Cook it up right in front of you, somethin' like hibachi\n Streetlight, pocket full of bands, mariachi\n\n Three dice in my hand, look like I'm playin' Yahtzee\n Plain Jane Yachty, push a foreign like I'm Fivi\n Walkin' out of Neiman's like I inked a deal with Ghazi\n Don't love no thotties, sellin' birds, catchin' bodies\n Only sport I ever played, only game, only hobby\n\n Hope all is well, on that road, it get kind of rocky\n We call it hell 'cause my block hotter than wasabi\n White hard as stucco, shit look like epoxy\n I know these niggas wanna rob me while I got my Glocky\n But now we Somerset trippin', catchin' bricks from papi\n Money over my ex-bitch, I put that shit on Moxie\n\n Yeah, I don't know what you all want from me (At all)\n Stay to myself 'cause misery loves company\n I know I turned my back on some people\n Who tried to front on me (I know)\n Yeah, 'cause misery loves company\n Scarred by a lil' nigga I treated just like a son to me (Ah)\n Damn, can't repeat what that nigga done to me (Nah)\n Nah, but I'm livin' my life comfortably\n No one can see 'cause I know misery loves company\n\n Just play my shit to start each morning (Yes)\n Here go a brief warning\n Why don't you turn your back when the streets calling? (Damn)\n The fiends movin' like they sleepwalkin'\n I don't sleep often (Nah)\n The cousin of death is restin' a cheap coffin\n\n Heard through the wire that we keep warring (Yeah)\n But the words of Christopher Wallace in\n Our heads are sayin', \"Keep scoring\" (Yes)\n Playing Chris and Snoop in a hooptie while police swarmin'\n We wanna be more, so we looked for Wallace to beat Jordan\n\n Huh, now we pile up in sweet foreigns\n\n Stoic killers that sign peace offerings\n\n Divide each portion, savage, pourin' wine out of chic porcelain\n Stay out my lane with that weak offense (Stay back)\n A lion never slept in the jungle (Never)\n Used to be fair 'til I read the definition of humble\n\n Now I'm the greatest, I say it, never whisper or mumble (Shh)\n I stayed on the block when the stomach of my sister would rumble (Ah)\n Through constant repetition and struggle (Yeah)\n\n Survived the game without a coach, exhibition, or huddle\n My mission is subtle, I motivate, you ain't supposed to wait\n You'd rather live in shit than have us\n Witness you grippin' a shovel (That's real)\n I'm like Van Gogh when his hands flow\n But in a bando, I'm like Rambo when he land blows\n Y'all niggas Sambos, I'm a godfather like Brando (Yeah)\n Out in Sandro with a tanned ho in a Lambo'\n\n I think she Anglo, so I told her ass that she can't go (Hahaha)\n She on the 'Gram 'stead of watchin' her lil' man grow\n Cut from a different cloth, you can only\n Reap what your hands sow (That's it)\n What's God-given is Ran's flow\n"},{"id":34940789,"name":"Live from the Roxy","trackName":"Live from the Roxy","artistName":"Ransom","albumName":"Lavish Misery","duration":166.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(La música de Harry Fraud)\n\nLive from the Roxy, we got pink teens and Oxys\nThorazine and morphine, blue jeans, no Versace\nBrickfield Donahue, no Joanie or Chachi\nCook it up right in front of you, somethin' like hibachi\nStreetlight, pocket full of bands, mariachi\n\nThree dice in my hand, look like I'm playin' Yahtzee\nPlain Jane Yachty, push a foreign like I'm Fivi\nWalkin' out of Neiman's like I inked a deal with Ghazi\nDon't love no thotties, sellin' birds, catchin' bodies\nOnly sport I ever played, only game, only hobby\n\nHope all is well, on that road, it get kind of rocky\nWe call it hell 'cause my block hotter than wasabi\nWhite hard as stucco, shit look like epoxy\nI know these niggas wanna rob me while I got my Glocky\nBut now we Somerset trippin', catchin' bricks from papi\nMoney over my ex-bitch, I put that shit on Moxie\n\nYeah, I don't know what you all want from me (At all)\nStay to myself 'cause misery loves company\nI know I turned my back on some people\nWho tried to front on me (I know)\nYeah, 'cause misery loves company\nScarred by a lil' nigga I treated just like a son to me (Ah)\nDamn, can't repeat what that nigga done to me (Nah)\nNah, but I'm livin' my life comfortably\nNo one can see 'cause I know misery loves company\n\nJust play my shit to start each morning (Yes)\nHere go a brief warning\nWhy don't you turn your back when the streets calling? (Damn)\nThe fiends movin' like they sleepwalkin'\nI don't sleep often (Nah)\nThe cousin of death is restin' a cheap coffin\n\nHeard through the wire that we keep warring (Yeah)\nBut the words of Christopher Wallace in\nOur heads are sayin', \"Keep scoring\" (Yes)\nPlaying Chris and Snoop in a hooptie while police swarmin'\nWe wanna be more, so we looked for Wallace to beat Jordan\n\nHuh, now we pile up in sweet foreigns\n\nStoic killers that sign peace offerings\n\nDivide each portion, savage, pourin' wine out of chic porcelain\nStay out my lane with that weak offense (Stay back)\nA lion never slept in the jungle (Never)\nUsed to be fair 'til I read the definition of humble\n\nNow I'm the greatest, I say it, never whisper or mumble (Shh)\nI stayed on the block when the stomach of my sister would rumble (Ah)\nThrough constant repetition and struggle (Yeah)\n\nSurvived the game without a coach, exhibition, or huddle\nMy mission is subtle, I motivate, you ain't supposed to wait\nYou'd rather live in shit than have us\nWitness you grippin' a shovel (That's real)\nI'm like Van Gogh when his hands flow\nBut in a bando, I'm like Rambo when he land blows\nY'all niggas Sambos, I'm a godfather like Brando (Yeah)\nOut in Sandro with a tanned ho in a Lambo'\n\nI think she Anglo, so I told her ass that she can't go (Hahaha)\nShe on the 'Gram 'stead of watchin' her lil' man grow\nCut from a different cloth, you can only\nReap what your hands sow (That's it)\nWhat's God-given is Ran's flow","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.26] (La música de Harry Fraud)\n[00:12.06] Live from the Roxy, we got pink teens and Oxys\n[00:14.43] Thorazine and morphine, blue jeans, no Versace\n[00:17.94] Brickfield Donahue, no Joanie or Chachi\n[00:20.64] Cook it up right in front of you, somethin' like hibachi\n[00:23.72] Streetlight, pocket full of bands, mariachi\n[00:26.67] Three dice in my hand, look like I'm playin' Yahtzee\n[00:29.58] Plain Jane Yachty, push a foreign like I'm Fivi\n[00:32.20] Walkin' out of Neiman's like I inked a deal with Ghazi\n[00:34.94] Don't love no thotties, sellin' birds, catchin' bodies\n[00:37.20] Only sport I ever played, only game, only hobby\n[00:40.67] Hope all is well, on that road, it get kind of rocky\n[00:43.56] We call it hell 'cause my block hotter than wasabi\n[00:46.57] White hard as stucco, shit look like epoxy\n[00:49.37] I know these niggas wanna rob me while I got my Glocky\n[00:52.13] But now we Somerset trippin', catchin' bricks from papi\n[00:55.00] Money over my ex-bitch, I put that shit on Moxie\n[00:58.03] Yeah, I don't know what you all want from me (At all)\n[01:00.60] Stay to myself 'cause misery loves company\n[01:03.22] I know I turned my back on some people\n[01:04.93] Who tried to front on me (I know)\n[01:06.54] Yeah, 'cause misery loves company\n[01:08.84] Scarred by a lil' nigga I treated just like a son to me (Ah)\n[01:12.31] Damn, can't repeat what that nigga done to me (Nah)\n[01:15.16] Nah, but I'm livin' my life comfortably\n[01:17.58] No one can see 'cause I know misery loves company\n[01:20.66] Just play my shit to start each morning (Yes)\n[01:22.89] Here go a brief warning\n[01:24.17] Why don't you turn your back when the streets calling? (Damn)\n[01:26.45] The fiends movin' like they sleepwalkin'\n[01:28.48] I don't sleep often (Nah)\n[01:29.64] The cousin of death is restin' a cheap coffin\n[01:32.02] Heard through the wire that we keep warring (Yeah)\n[01:34.32] But the words of Christopher Wallace in\n[01:36.08] Our heads are sayin', \"Keep scoring\" (Yes)\n[01:37.87] Playing Chris and Snoop in a hooptie while police swarmin'\n[01:40.44] We wanna be more, so we looked for Wallace to beat Jordan\n[01:43.76] Huh, now we pile up in sweet foreigns\n[01:46.45] Stoic killers that sign peace offerings\n[01:48.64] Divide each portion, savage, pourin' wine out of chic porcelain\n[01:53.00] Stay out my lane with that weak offense (Stay back)\n[01:55.86] A lion never slept in the jungle (Never)\n[01:57.81] Used to be fair 'til I read the definition of humble\n[02:00.77] Now I'm the greatest, I say it, never whisper or mumble (Shh)\n[02:03.33] I stayed on the block when the stomach of my sister would rumble (Ah)\n[02:07.28] Through constant repetition and struggle (Yeah)\n[02:09.21] Survived the game without a coach, exhibition, or huddle\n[02:11.94] My mission is subtle, I motivate, you ain't supposed to wait\n[02:14.72] You'd rather live in shit than have us\n[02:16.21] Witness you grippin' a shovel (That's real)\n[02:18.66] I'm like Van Gogh when his hands flow\n[02:20.56] But in a bando, I'm like Rambo when he land blows\n[02:23.35] Y'all niggas Sambos, I'm a godfather like Brando (Yeah)\n[02:26.41] Out in Sandro with a tanned ho in a Lambo'\n[02:29.18] I think she Anglo, so I told her ass that she can't go (Hahaha)\n[02:32.13] She on the 'Gram 'stead of watchin' her lil' man grow\n[02:34.69] Cut from a different cloth, you can only\n[02:36.33] Reap what your hands sow (That's it)\n[02:38.72] What's God-given is Ran's flow\n[02:45.98] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Live from the Roxy\n artist: Ransom\n album: Lavish Misery\n duration_ms: 166000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: (La música de Harry Fraud)\n start_ms: 1260\n end_ms: 12060\n- text: Live from the Roxy, we got pink teens and Oxys\n start_ms: 12060\n end_ms: 14430\n- text: Thorazine and morphine, blue jeans, no Versace\n start_ms: 14430\n end_ms: 17940\n- text: Brickfield Donahue, no Joanie or Chachi\n start_ms: 17940\n end_ms: 20640\n- text: Cook it up right in front of you, somethin' like hibachi\n start_ms: 20640\n end_ms: 23720\n- text: Streetlight, pocket full of bands, mariachi\n start_ms: 23720\n end_ms: 26670\n- text: Three dice in my hand, look like I'm playin' Yahtzee\n start_ms: 26670\n end_ms: 29580\n- text: Plain Jane Yachty, push a foreign like I'm Fivi\n start_ms: 29580\n end_ms: 32200\n- text: Walkin' out of Neiman's like I inked a deal with Ghazi\n start_ms: 32200\n end_ms: 34940\n- text: Don't love no thotties, sellin' birds, catchin' bodies\n start_ms: 34940\n end_ms: 37200\n- text: Only sport I ever played, only game, only hobby\n start_ms: 37200\n end_ms: 40670\n- text: Hope all is well, on that road, it get kind of rocky\n start_ms: 40670\n end_ms: 43560\n- text: We call it hell 'cause my block hotter than wasabi\n start_ms: 43560\n end_ms: 46570\n- text: White hard as stucco, shit look like epoxy\n start_ms: 46570\n end_ms: 49370\n- text: I know these niggas wanna rob me while I got my Glocky\n start_ms: 49370\n end_ms: 52130\n- text: But now we Somerset trippin', catchin' bricks from papi\n start_ms: 52130\n end_ms: 55000\n- text: Money over my ex-bitch, I put that shit on Moxie\n start_ms: 55000\n end_ms: 58030\n- text: Yeah, I don't know what you all want from me (At all)\n start_ms: 58030\n end_ms: 60600\n- text: Stay to myself 'cause misery loves company\n start_ms: 60600\n end_ms: 63220\n- text: I know I turned my back on some people\n start_ms: 63220\n end_ms: 64930\n- text: Who tried to front on me (I know)\n start_ms: 64930\n end_ms: 66540\n- text: Yeah, 'cause misery loves company\n start_ms: 66540\n end_ms: 68840\n- text: Scarred by a lil' nigga I treated just like a son to me (Ah)\n start_ms: 68840\n end_ms: 72310\n- text: Damn, can't repeat what that nigga done to me (Nah)\n start_ms: 72310\n end_ms: 75160\n- text: Nah, but I'm livin' my life comfortably\n start_ms: 75160\n end_ms: 77580\n- text: No one can see 'cause I know misery loves company\n start_ms: 77580\n end_ms: 80660\n- text: Just play my shit to start each morning (Yes)\n start_ms: 80660\n end_ms: 82890\n- text: Here go a brief warning\n start_ms: 82890\n end_ms: 84170\n- text: Why don't you turn your back when the streets calling? (Damn)\n start_ms: 84170\n end_ms: 86450\n- text: The fiends movin' like they sleepwalkin'\n start_ms: 86450\n end_ms: 88480\n- text: I don't sleep often (Nah)\n start_ms: 88480\n end_ms: 89640\n- text: The cousin of death is restin' a cheap coffin\n start_ms: 89640\n end_ms: 92020\n- text: Heard through the wire that we keep warring (Yeah)\n start_ms: 92020\n end_ms: 94320\n- text: But the words of Christopher Wallace in\n start_ms: 94320\n end_ms: 96080\n- text: Our heads are sayin', \"Keep scoring\" (Yes)\n start_ms: 96080\n end_ms: 97870\n- text: Playing Chris and Snoop in a hooptie while police swarmin'\n start_ms: 97870\n end_ms: 100440\n- text: We wanna be more, so we looked for Wallace to beat Jordan\n start_ms: 100440\n end_ms: 103760\n- text: Huh, now we pile up in sweet foreigns\n start_ms: 103760\n end_ms: 106450\n- text: Stoic killers that sign peace offerings\n start_ms: 106450\n end_ms: 108640\n- text: Divide each portion, savage, pourin' wine out of chic porcelain\n start_ms: 108640\n end_ms: 113000\n- text: Stay out my lane with that weak offense (Stay back)\n start_ms: 113000\n end_ms: 115860\n- text: A lion never slept in the jungle (Never)\n start_ms: 115860\n end_ms: 117810\n- text: Used to be fair 'til I read the definition of humble\n start_ms: 117810\n end_ms: 120770\n- text: Now I'm the greatest, I say it, never whisper or mumble (Shh)\n start_ms: 120770\n end_ms: 123330\n- text: I stayed on the block when the stomach of my sister would rumble (Ah)\n start_ms: 123330\n end_ms: 127280\n- text: Through constant repetition and struggle (Yeah)\n start_ms: 127280\n end_ms: 129210\n- text: Survived the game without a coach, exhibition, or huddle\n start_ms: 129210\n end_ms: 131940\n- text: My mission is subtle, I motivate, you ain't supposed to wait\n start_ms: 131940\n end_ms: 134720\n- text: You'd rather live in shit than have us\n start_ms: 134720\n end_ms: 136210\n- text: Witness you grippin' a shovel (That's real)\n start_ms: 136210\n end_ms: 138660\n- text: I'm like Van Gogh when his hands flow\n start_ms: 138660\n end_ms: 140560\n- text: But in a bando, I'm like Rambo when he land blows\n start_ms: 140560\n end_ms: 143350\n- text: Y'all niggas Sambos, I'm a godfather like Brando (Yeah)\n start_ms: 143350\n end_ms: 146410\n- text: Out in Sandro with a tanned ho in a Lambo'\n start_ms: 146410\n end_ms: 149180\n- text: I think she Anglo, so I told her ass that she can't go (Hahaha)\n start_ms: 149180\n end_ms: 152130\n- text: She on the 'Gram 'stead of watchin' her lil' man grow\n start_ms: 152130\n end_ms: 154690\n- text: Cut from a different cloth, you can only\n start_ms: 154690\n end_ms: 156330\n- text: Reap what your hands sow (That's it)\n start_ms: 156330\n end_ms: 158720\n- text: What's God-given is Ran's flow\n start_ms: 158720\n end_ms: 165980\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 165980\nplain: |-\n (La música de Harry Fraud)\n\n Live from the Roxy, we got pink teens and Oxys\n Thorazine and morphine, blue jeans, no Versace\n Brickfield Donahue, no Joanie or Chachi\n Cook it up right in front of you, somethin' like hibachi\n Streetlight, pocket full of bands, mariachi\n\n Three dice in my hand, look like I'm playin' Yahtzee\n Plain Jane Yachty, push a foreign like I'm Fivi\n Walkin' out of Neiman's like I inked a deal with Ghazi\n Don't love no thotties, sellin' birds, catchin' bodies\n Only sport I ever played, only game, only hobby\n\n Hope all is well, on that road, it get kind of rocky\n We call it hell 'cause my block hotter than wasabi\n White hard as stucco, shit look like epoxy\n I know these niggas wanna rob me while I got my Glocky\n But now we Somerset trippin', catchin' bricks from papi\n Money over my ex-bitch, I put that shit on Moxie\n\n Yeah, I don't know what you all want from me (At all)\n Stay to myself 'cause misery loves company\n I know I turned my back on some people\n Who tried to front on me (I know)\n Yeah, 'cause misery loves company\n Scarred by a lil' nigga I treated just like a son to me (Ah)\n Damn, can't repeat what that nigga done to me (Nah)\n Nah, but I'm livin' my life comfortably\n No one can see 'cause I know misery loves company\n\n Just play my shit to start each morning (Yes)\n Here go a brief warning\n Why don't you turn your back when the streets calling? (Damn)\n The fiends movin' like they sleepwalkin'\n I don't sleep often (Nah)\n The cousin of death is restin' a cheap coffin\n\n Heard through the wire that we keep warring (Yeah)\n But the words of Christopher Wallace in\n Our heads are sayin', \"Keep scoring\" (Yes)\n Playing Chris and Snoop in a hooptie while police swarmin'\n We wanna be more, so we looked for Wallace to beat Jordan\n\n Huh, now we pile up in sweet foreigns\n\n Stoic killers that sign peace offerings\n\n Divide each portion, savage, pourin' wine out of chic porcelain\n Stay out my lane with that weak offense (Stay back)\n A lion never slept in the jungle (Never)\n Used to be fair 'til I read the definition of humble\n\n Now I'm the greatest, I say it, never whisper or mumble (Shh)\n I stayed on the block when the stomach of my sister would rumble (Ah)\n Through constant repetition and struggle (Yeah)\n\n Survived the game without a coach, exhibition, or huddle\n My mission is subtle, I motivate, you ain't supposed to wait\n You'd rather live in shit than have us\n Witness you grippin' a shovel (That's real)\n I'm like Van Gogh when his hands flow\n But in a bando, I'm like Rambo when he land blows\n Y'all niggas Sambos, I'm a godfather like Brando (Yeah)\n Out in Sandro with a tanned ho in a Lambo'\n\n I think she Anglo, so I told her ass that she can't go (Hahaha)\n She on the 'Gram 'stead of watchin' her lil' man grow\n Cut from a different cloth, you can only\n Reap what your hands sow (That's it)\n What's God-given is Ran's flow\n"}]