[{"id":1291902,"name":"Da Ill Out","trackName":"Da Ill Out","artistName":"Redman","albumName":"Muddy Waters","duration":215.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(Erick Sermon)\nYo Reggie, I'mout\n\n(Jamal)\nT-ree F Squad\nMuddy Waters\nDon't get it twisted... nigga\n\n(Redman)\nAiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\nFuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\nRock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\nI beez that, freak of the week like I made Knee Deep\nHold up! Rotate around the solar, badder than Cobra\nComposure never sleeps, my stream pumps Folgers\nI'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\nWithout the MSG and chopped celery\nSee, I made it, my flavor situated\nFrom the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\nPlus, I'm thick like Quakers on papers\nBodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\nLettering, and the medicine, that I'm swallowin\nGet you hollerin, like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\nIn the chest, I roll with two stacks of Tecs\nAnd mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\nUHH! Mister Fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\nWhen I'm blasted, my Method magics get drastic\nThat you can't see with bifocals\nWatchin MC's go up and down like stock brokers\nI leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\nThat's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\nI'm poppin mad shit, plus I can back it\nYour man'll be like \"Yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\"\n\n(Keith Murray)\nIt ain't a test or quiz that my Squad can't win\nThose who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\nY'all digest, multiple stab wounds to the chest\nAnd I copycat kill the rest, with no Method to my madness\nPlus the apparatus with the baddest\nDetermined to be the last man, standin on the planet\nY'all get attached, like a blood-suckin leech\nWhen you fall into my rhythm of speech\nYour hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\nHead get wrapped up neck get thrown in a neck brace\nRough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\nWill ironically chronically murder you and your crew\nMy directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\nSee I get to the bottom of the problem, and make shit give\nStep in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\nCast to the masses grabs the mic\nTen dollar rappers, is what L.O.D. goes after\nTo my Squad, there's no matches, we bashes\nDo photo flashes on all flavor S-classes\nBomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\nTie you up, throw you in the act\nA public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\nCause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up\n\n(Jamal)\nMuddy Waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\nDrunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\nFuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\nPlayin that big shit get broke down microscopic\nFreak it back keep the track ringin, with the bassline\nIt's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\nFace the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\nAround and round, avoidin the time to put it down\nNow's the time here yeah\n\n(Erick Sermon)\nClown where, pick a spot\nNeutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\n\n(Jamal)\nGangsta, so called killin, cap peelin\nPlayalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\nPlay your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\nNight fall might call your life, shit is trife\nOn these evil streets after dark\nNiggaz gettin sparked left and outlined in chalk\nNew day, this whole shit's twisted (is it man)\nIt's me bombin on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\nOpen your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\nHopin to ride in the, industry with E\nThe villain's had it cause ahead (word up yeah)\nKillin my psychosomatic pattern mad (yeah)\n\n(Erick Sermon)\nY'all know, uhh, yeah, Muddy Waters\nWe out for nine-seven, word up, peace","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.88] (Erick Sermon)\n[00:01.70] Yo Reggie, I'mout\n[00:02.69] (Jamal)\n[00:03.66] T-ree F Squad\n[00:04.54] Muddy Waters\n[00:07.29] Don't get it twisted... nigga\n[00:10.89] (Redman)\n[00:11.73] Aiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\n[00:14.40] Fuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\n[00:17.16] Rock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\n[00:18.99] I beez that, freak of the week like I made Knee Deep\n[00:21.67] Hold up! Rotate around the solar, badder than Cobra\n[00:24.49] Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps Folgers\n[00:28.04] I'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\n[00:30.70] Without the MSG and chopped celery\n[00:33.41] See, I made it, my flavor situated\n[00:35.29] From the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\n[00:38.91] Plus, I'm thick like Quakers on papers\n[00:40.72] Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n[00:43.40] Lettering, and the medicine, that I'm swallowin\n[00:46.23] Get you hollerin, like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\n[00:49.85] In the chest, I roll with two stacks of Tecs\n[00:51.60] And mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n[00:54.32] UHH! Mister Fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\n[00:57.92] When I'm blasted, my Method magics get drastic\n[00:59.75] That you can't see with bifocals\n[01:02.42] Watchin MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n[01:05.16] I leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\n[01:07.80] That's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\n[01:10.69] I'm poppin mad shit, plus I can back it\n[01:13.36] Your man'll be like \"Yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\"\n[01:15.18] (Keith Murray)\n[01:16.09] It ain't a test or quiz that my Squad can't win\n[01:16.96] Those who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\n[01:20.64] Y'all digest, multiple stab wounds to the chest\n[01:23.34] And I copycat kill the rest, with no Method to my madness\n[01:26.94] Plus the apparatus with the baddest\n[01:28.74] Determined to be the last man, standin on the planet\n[01:31.48] Y'all get attached, like a blood-suckin leech\n[01:34.14] When you fall into my rhythm of speech\n[01:36.81] Your hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\n[01:39.67] Head get wrapped up neck get thrown in a neck brace\n[01:42.32] Rough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\n[01:45.02] Will ironically chronically murder you and your crew\n[01:47.74] My directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\n[01:50.46] See I get to the bottom of the problem, and make shit give\n[01:53.17] Step in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\n[01:54.99] Cast to the masses grabs the mic\n[01:55.88] Ten dollar rappers, is what L.O.D. goes after\n[01:58.52] To my Squad, there's no matches, we bashes\n[02:01.22] Do photo flashes on all flavor S-classes\n[02:03.08] Bomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\n[02:07.68] Tie you up, throw you in the act\n[02:09.40] A public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n[02:12.10] Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up\n[02:13.96] (Jamal)\n[02:14.83] Muddy Waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\n[02:17.66] Drunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\n[02:19.43] Fuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\n[02:22.15] Playin that big shit get broke down microscopic\n[02:24.85] Freak it back keep the track ringin, with the bassline\n[02:26.68] It's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\n[02:30.27] Face the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\n[02:32.97] Around and round, avoidin the time to put it down\n[02:35.67] Now's the time here yeah\n[02:36.56] (Erick Sermon)\n[02:37.43] Clown where, pick a spot\n[02:38.31] Neutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\n[02:41.05] (Jamal)\n[02:41.94] Gangsta, so called killin, cap peelin\n[02:43.78] Playalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n[02:46.45] Play your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\n[02:49.19] Night fall might call your life, shit is trife\n[02:51.82] On these evil streets after dark\n[02:52.78] Niggaz gettin sparked left and outlined in chalk\n[02:55.53] New day, this whole shit's twisted (is it man)\n[02:58.28] It's me bombin on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\n[03:02.75] Open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\n[03:05.43] Hopin to ride in the, industry with E\n[03:08.17] The villain's had it cause ahead (word up yeah)\n[03:09.97] Killin my psychosomatic pattern mad (yeah)\n[03:12.75] (Erick Sermon)\n[03:13.66] Y'all know, uhh, yeah, Muddy Waters\n[03:21.76] We out for nine-seven, word up, peace\n[03:23.65] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Da Ill Out\n  artist: Redman\n  album: Muddy Waters\n  duration_ms: 215000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: (Erick Sermon)\n  start_ms: 880\n  end_ms: 1700\n- text: Yo Reggie, I'mout\n  start_ms: 1700\n  end_ms: 2690\n- text: (Jamal)\n  start_ms: 2690\n  end_ms: 3660\n- text: T-ree F Squad\n  start_ms: 3660\n  end_ms: 4540\n- text: Muddy Waters\n  start_ms: 4540\n  end_ms: 7290\n- text: Don't get it twisted... nigga\n  start_ms: 7290\n  end_ms: 10890\n- text: (Redman)\n  start_ms: 10890\n  end_ms: 11730\n- text: Aiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\n  start_ms: 11730\n  end_ms: 14400\n- text: Fuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\n  start_ms: 14400\n  end_ms: 17160\n- text: Rock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\n  start_ms: 17160\n  end_ms: 18990\n- text: I beez that, freak of the week like I made Knee Deep\n  start_ms: 18990\n  end_ms: 21670\n- text: Hold up! Rotate around the solar, badder than Cobra\n  start_ms: 21670\n  end_ms: 24490\n- text: Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps Folgers\n  start_ms: 24490\n  end_ms: 28040\n- text: I'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\n  start_ms: 28040\n  end_ms: 30700\n- text: Without the MSG and chopped celery\n  start_ms: 30700\n  end_ms: 33410\n- text: See, I made it, my flavor situated\n  start_ms: 33410\n  end_ms: 35290\n- text: From the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\n  start_ms: 35290\n  end_ms: 38910\n- text: Plus, I'm thick like Quakers on papers\n  start_ms: 38910\n  end_ms: 40720\n- text: Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n  start_ms: 40720\n  end_ms: 43400\n- text: Lettering, and the medicine, that I'm swallowin\n  start_ms: 43400\n  end_ms: 46230\n- text: Get you hollerin, like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\n  start_ms: 46230\n  end_ms: 49850\n- text: In the chest, I roll with two stacks of Tecs\n  start_ms: 49850\n  end_ms: 51600\n- text: And mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n  start_ms: 51600\n  end_ms: 54320\n- text: UHH! Mister Fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\n  start_ms: 54320\n  end_ms: 57920\n- text: When I'm blasted, my Method magics get drastic\n  start_ms: 57920\n  end_ms: 59750\n- text: That you can't see with bifocals\n  start_ms: 59750\n  end_ms: 62420\n- text: Watchin MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n  start_ms: 62420\n  end_ms: 65160\n- text: I leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\n  start_ms: 65160\n  end_ms: 67800\n- text: That's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\n  start_ms: 67800\n  end_ms: 70690\n- text: I'm poppin mad shit, plus I can back it\n  start_ms: 70690\n  end_ms: 73360\n- text: Your man'll be like \"Yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\"\n  start_ms: 73360\n  end_ms: 75180\n- text: (Keith Murray)\n  start_ms: 75180\n  end_ms: 76090\n- text: It ain't a test or quiz that my Squad can't win\n  start_ms: 76090\n  end_ms: 76960\n- text: Those who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\n  start_ms: 76960\n  end_ms: 80640\n- text: Y'all digest, multiple stab wounds to the chest\n  start_ms: 80640\n  end_ms: 83340\n- text: And I copycat kill the rest, with no Method to my madness\n  start_ms: 83340\n  end_ms: 86940\n- text: Plus the apparatus with the baddest\n  start_ms: 86940\n  end_ms: 88740\n- text: Determined to be the last man, standin on the planet\n  start_ms: 88740\n  end_ms: 91480\n- text: Y'all get attached, like a blood-suckin leech\n  start_ms: 91480\n  end_ms: 94140\n- text: When you fall into my rhythm of speech\n  start_ms: 94140\n  end_ms: 96810\n- text: Your hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\n  start_ms: 96810\n  end_ms: 99670\n- text: Head get wrapped up neck get thrown in a neck brace\n  start_ms: 99670\n  end_ms: 102320\n- text: Rough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\n  start_ms: 102320\n  end_ms: 105020\n- text: Will ironically chronically murder you and your crew\n  start_ms: 105020\n  end_ms: 107740\n- text: My directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\n  start_ms: 107740\n  end_ms: 110460\n- text: See I get to the bottom of the problem, and make shit give\n  start_ms: 110460\n  end_ms: 113170\n- text: Step in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\n  start_ms: 113170\n  end_ms: 114990\n- text: Cast to the masses grabs the mic\n  start_ms: 114990\n  end_ms: 115880\n- text: Ten dollar rappers, is what L.O.D. goes after\n  start_ms: 115880\n  end_ms: 118520\n- text: To my Squad, there's no matches, we bashes\n  start_ms: 118520\n  end_ms: 121220\n- text: Do photo flashes on all flavor S-classes\n  start_ms: 121220\n  end_ms: 123080\n- text: Bomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\n  start_ms: 123080\n  end_ms: 127680\n- text: Tie you up, throw you in the act\n  start_ms: 127680\n  end_ms: 129400\n- text: A public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n  start_ms: 129400\n  end_ms: 132100\n- text: Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up\n  start_ms: 132100\n  end_ms: 133960\n- text: (Jamal)\n  start_ms: 133960\n  end_ms: 134830\n- text: Muddy Waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\n  start_ms: 134830\n  end_ms: 137660\n- text: Drunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\n  start_ms: 137660\n  end_ms: 139430\n- text: Fuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\n  start_ms: 139430\n  end_ms: 142150\n- text: Playin that big shit get broke down microscopic\n  start_ms: 142150\n  end_ms: 144850\n- text: Freak it back keep the track ringin, with the bassline\n  start_ms: 144850\n  end_ms: 146680\n- text: It's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\n  start_ms: 146680\n  end_ms: 150270\n- text: Face the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\n  start_ms: 150270\n  end_ms: 152970\n- text: Around and round, avoidin the time to put it down\n  start_ms: 152970\n  end_ms: 155670\n- text: Now's the time here yeah\n  start_ms: 155670\n  end_ms: 156560\n- text: (Erick Sermon)\n  start_ms: 156560\n  end_ms: 157430\n- text: Clown where, pick a spot\n  start_ms: 157430\n  end_ms: 158310\n- text: Neutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\n  start_ms: 158310\n  end_ms: 161050\n- text: (Jamal)\n  start_ms: 161050\n  end_ms: 161940\n- text: Gangsta, so called killin, cap peelin\n  start_ms: 161940\n  end_ms: 163780\n- text: Playalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n  start_ms: 163780\n  end_ms: 166450\n- text: Play your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\n  start_ms: 166450\n  end_ms: 169190\n- text: Night fall might call your life, shit is trife\n  start_ms: 169190\n  end_ms: 171820\n- text: On these evil streets after dark\n  start_ms: 171820\n  end_ms: 172780\n- text: Niggaz gettin sparked left and outlined in chalk\n  start_ms: 172780\n  end_ms: 175530\n- text: New day, this whole shit's twisted (is it man)\n  start_ms: 175530\n  end_ms: 178280\n- text: It's me bombin on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\n  start_ms: 178280\n  end_ms: 182750\n- text: Open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\n  start_ms: 182750\n  end_ms: 185430\n- text: Hopin to ride in the, industry with E\n  start_ms: 185430\n  end_ms: 188170\n- text: The villain's had it cause ahead (word up yeah)\n  start_ms: 188170\n  end_ms: 189970\n- text: Killin my psychosomatic pattern mad (yeah)\n  start_ms: 189970\n  end_ms: 192750\n- text: (Erick Sermon)\n  start_ms: 192750\n  end_ms: 193660\n- text: Y'all know, uhh, yeah, Muddy Waters\n  start_ms: 193660\n  end_ms: 201760\n- text: We out for nine-seven, word up, peace\n  start_ms: 201760\n  end_ms: 203650\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 203650\nplain: |-\n  (Erick Sermon)\n  Yo Reggie, I'mout\n\n  (Jamal)\n  T-ree F Squad\n  Muddy Waters\n  Don't get it twisted... nigga\n\n  (Redman)\n  Aiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\n  Fuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\n  Rock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\n  I beez that, freak of the week like I made Knee Deep\n  Hold up! Rotate around the solar, badder than Cobra\n  Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps Folgers\n  I'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\n  Without the MSG and chopped celery\n  See, I made it, my flavor situated\n  From the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\n  Plus, I'm thick like Quakers on papers\n  Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n  Lettering, and the medicine, that I'm swallowin\n  Get you hollerin, like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\n  In the chest, I roll with two stacks of Tecs\n  And mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n  UHH! Mister Fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\n  When I'm blasted, my Method magics get drastic\n  That you can't see with bifocals\n  Watchin MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n  I leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\n  That's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\n  I'm poppin mad shit, plus I can back it\n  Your man'll be like \"Yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\"\n\n  (Keith Murray)\n  It ain't a test or quiz that my Squad can't win\n  Those who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\n  Y'all digest, multiple stab wounds to the chest\n  And I copycat kill the rest, with no Method to my madness\n  Plus the apparatus with the baddest\n  Determined to be the last man, standin on the planet\n  Y'all get attached, like a blood-suckin leech\n  When you fall into my rhythm of speech\n  Your hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\n  Head get wrapped up neck get thrown in a neck brace\n  Rough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\n  Will ironically chronically murder you and your crew\n  My directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\n  See I get to the bottom of the problem, and make shit give\n  Step in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\n  Cast to the masses grabs the mic\n  Ten dollar rappers, is what L.O.D. goes after\n  To my Squad, there's no matches, we bashes\n  Do photo flashes on all flavor S-classes\n  Bomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\n  Tie you up, throw you in the act\n  A public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n  Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up\n\n  (Jamal)\n  Muddy Waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\n  Drunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\n  Fuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\n  Playin that big shit get broke down microscopic\n  Freak it back keep the track ringin, with the bassline\n  It's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\n  Face the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\n  Around and round, avoidin the time to put it down\n  Now's the time here yeah\n\n  (Erick Sermon)\n  Clown where, pick a spot\n  Neutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\n\n  (Jamal)\n  Gangsta, so called killin, cap peelin\n  Playalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n  Play your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\n  Night fall might call your life, shit is trife\n  On these evil streets after dark\n  Niggaz gettin sparked left and outlined in chalk\n  New day, this whole shit's twisted (is it man)\n  It's me bombin on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\n  Open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\n  Hopin to ride in the, industry with E\n  The villain's had it cause ahead (word up yeah)\n  Killin my psychosomatic pattern mad (yeah)\n\n  (Erick Sermon)\n  Y'all know, uhh, yeah, Muddy Waters\n  We out for nine-seven, word up, peace\n"},{"id":17713399,"name":"Da Ill Out","trackName":"Da Ill Out","artistName":"Redman","albumName":"Muddy Water","duration":215.4579712,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(Erick Sermon)\nYo Reggie, I'mout\n\n(Jamal)\nT-ree F Squad\nMuddy Waters\nDon't get it twisted... nigga\n\n(Redman)\nAiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\nFuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\nRock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\nI beez that, freak of the week like I made Knee Deep\nHold up! Rotate around the solar, badder than Cobra\nComposure never sleeps, my stream pumps Folgers\nI'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\nwithout the MSG and chopped celery\nSee, I made it, my flavor situated\nfrom the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\nPlus, I'm thick like Quakers on papers\nBodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\nlettering, and the medicine, that I'm swallowin\nGet you hollerin, like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\nin the chest, I roll with two stacks of Tecs\nAnd mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\nUHH! Mister Fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\nWhen I'm blasted, my Method magics get drastic\nThat you can't see with bifocals\nWatchin MC's go up and down like stock brokers\nI leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\nThat's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\nI'm poppin mad shit, plus I can back it\nYour man'll be like \"Yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\"\n\n(Keith Murray)\nIt ain't a test or quiz that my Squad can't win\nThose who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\nY'all digest, multiple stab wounds to the chest\nAnd I copycat kill the rest, with no Method to my madness\nPlus the apparatus with the baddest\nDetermined to be the last man, standin on the planet\nY'all get attached, like a blood-suckin leech\nWhen you fall into my rhythm of speech\nYour hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\nHead get wrapped up neck get thrown in a neck brace\nRough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\nWill ironically chronically murder you and your crew\nMy directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\nSee I get to the bottom of the problem, and make shit give\nStep in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\ncast to the masses grabs the mic\nTen dollar rappers, is what L.O.D. goes after\nTo my Squad, there's no matches, we bashes\nDo photo flashes on all flavor S-classes\nBomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\nTie you up, throw you in the act\nA public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\nCause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up\n\n(Jamal)\nMuddy Waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\nDrunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\nFuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\nPlayin that big shit get broke down microscopic\nFreak it back keep the track ringin, with the bassline\nIt's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\nFace the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\nAround and round, avoidin the time to put it down\nNow's the time here yeah\n\n(Erick Sermon)\nClown where, pick a spot\nNeutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\n\n(Jamal)\nGangsta, so called killin, cap peelin\nPlayalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\nPlay your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\nNight fall might call your life, shit is trife\non these evil streets after dark\nNiggaz gettin sparked left and outlined in chalk\nNew day, this whole shit's twisted (is it man)\nIt's me bombin on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\nopen your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\nHopin to ride in the, industry with E\nThe villain's had it cause ahead (word up yeah)\nKillin my psychosomatic pattern mad (yeah)\n\n(Erick Sermon)\nY'all know, uhh, yeah, Muddy Waters\nWe out for nine-seven, word up, peace","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.88] (Erick Sermon)\n[00:01.70] Yo Reggie, I'mout\n[00:02.69] (Jamal)\n[00:03.66] T-ree F Squad\n[00:04.54] Muddy Waters\n[00:07.29] Don't get it twisted... nigga\n[00:10.89] (Redman)\n[00:11.73] Aiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\n[00:14.40] Fuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\n[00:17.16] Rock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\n[00:18.99] I beez that, freak of the week like I made Knee Deep\n[00:21.67] Hold up! Rotate around the solar, badder than Cobra\n[00:24.49] Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps Folgers\n[00:28.04] I'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\n[00:30.70] without the MSG and chopped celery\n[00:33.41] See, I made it, my flavor situated\n[00:35.29] from the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\n[00:38.91] Plus, I'm thick like Quakers on papers\n[00:40.72] Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n[00:43.40] lettering, and the medicine, that I'm swallowin\n[00:46.23] Get you hollerin, like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\n[00:49.85] in the chest, I roll with two stacks of Tecs\n[00:51.60] And mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n[00:54.32] UHH! Mister Fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\n[00:57.92] When I'm blasted, my Method magics get drastic\n[00:59.75] That you can't see with bifocals\n[01:02.42] Watchin MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n[01:05.16] I leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\n[01:07.80] That's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\n[01:10.69] I'm poppin mad shit, plus I can back it\n[01:13.36] Your man'll be like \"Yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\"\n[01:15.18] (Keith Murray)\n[01:16.09] It ain't a test or quiz that my Squad can't win\n[01:16.96] Those who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\n[01:20.64] Y'all digest, multiple stab wounds to the chest\n[01:23.34] And I copycat kill the rest, with no Method to my madness\n[01:26.94] Plus the apparatus with the baddest\n[01:28.74] Determined to be the last man, standin on the planet\n[01:31.48] Y'all get attached, like a blood-suckin leech\n[01:34.14] When you fall into my rhythm of speech\n[01:36.81] Your hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\n[01:39.67] Head get wrapped up neck get thrown in a neck brace\n[01:42.32] Rough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\n[01:45.02] Will ironically chronically murder you and your crew\n[01:47.74] My directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\n[01:50.46] See I get to the bottom of the problem, and make shit give\n[01:53.17] Step in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\n[01:54.99] cast to the masses grabs the mic\n[01:55.88] Ten dollar rappers, is what L.O.D. goes after\n[01:58.52] To my Squad, there's no matches, we bashes\n[02:01.22] Do photo flashes on all flavor S-classes\n[02:03.08] Bomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\n[02:07.68] Tie you up, throw you in the act\n[02:09.40] A public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n[02:12.10] Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up\n[02:13.96] (Jamal)\n[02:14.83] Muddy Waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\n[02:17.66] Drunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\n[02:19.43] Fuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\n[02:22.15] Playin that big shit get broke down microscopic\n[02:24.85] Freak it back keep the track ringin, with the bassline\n[02:26.68] It's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\n[02:30.27] Face the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\n[02:32.97] Around and round, avoidin the time to put it down\n[02:35.67] Now's the time here yeah\n[02:36.56] (Erick Sermon)\n[02:37.43] Clown where, pick a spot\n[02:38.31] Neutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\n[02:41.05] (Jamal)\n[02:41.94] Gangsta, so called killin, cap peelin\n[02:43.78] Playalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n[02:46.45] Play your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\n[02:49.19] Night fall might call your life, shit is trife\n[02:51.82] on these evil streets after dark\n[02:52.78] Niggaz gettin sparked left and outlined in chalk\n[02:55.53] New day, this whole shit's twisted (is it man)\n[02:58.28] It's me bombin on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\n[03:02.75] open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\n[03:05.43] Hopin to ride in the, industry with E\n[03:08.17] The villain's had it cause ahead (word up yeah)\n[03:09.97] Killin my psychosomatic pattern mad (yeah)\n[03:12.75] (Erick Sermon)\n[03:13.66] Y'all know, uhh, yeah, Muddy Waters\n[03:21.76] We out for nine-seven, word up, peace\n[03:23.65] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Da Ill Out\n  artist: Redman\n  album: Muddy Water\n  duration_ms: 215458\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: (Erick Sermon)\n  start_ms: 880\n  end_ms: 1700\n- text: Yo Reggie, I'mout\n  start_ms: 1700\n  end_ms: 2690\n- text: (Jamal)\n  start_ms: 2690\n  end_ms: 3660\n- text: T-ree F Squad\n  start_ms: 3660\n  end_ms: 4540\n- text: Muddy Waters\n  start_ms: 4540\n  end_ms: 7290\n- text: Don't get it twisted... nigga\n  start_ms: 7290\n  end_ms: 10890\n- text: (Redman)\n  start_ms: 10890\n  end_ms: 11730\n- text: Aiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\n  start_ms: 11730\n  end_ms: 14400\n- text: Fuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\n  start_ms: 14400\n  end_ms: 17160\n- text: Rock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\n  start_ms: 17160\n  end_ms: 18990\n- text: I beez that, freak of the week like I made Knee Deep\n  start_ms: 18990\n  end_ms: 21670\n- text: Hold up! Rotate around the solar, badder than Cobra\n  start_ms: 21670\n  end_ms: 24490\n- text: Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps Folgers\n  start_ms: 24490\n  end_ms: 28040\n- text: I'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\n  start_ms: 28040\n  end_ms: 30700\n- text: without the MSG and chopped celery\n  start_ms: 30700\n  end_ms: 33410\n- text: See, I made it, my flavor situated\n  start_ms: 33410\n  end_ms: 35290\n- text: from the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\n  start_ms: 35290\n  end_ms: 38910\n- text: Plus, I'm thick like Quakers on papers\n  start_ms: 38910\n  end_ms: 40720\n- text: Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n  start_ms: 40720\n  end_ms: 43400\n- text: lettering, and the medicine, that I'm swallowin\n  start_ms: 43400\n  end_ms: 46230\n- text: Get you hollerin, like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\n  start_ms: 46230\n  end_ms: 49850\n- text: in the chest, I roll with two stacks of Tecs\n  start_ms: 49850\n  end_ms: 51600\n- text: And mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n  start_ms: 51600\n  end_ms: 54320\n- text: UHH! Mister Fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\n  start_ms: 54320\n  end_ms: 57920\n- text: When I'm blasted, my Method magics get drastic\n  start_ms: 57920\n  end_ms: 59750\n- text: That you can't see with bifocals\n  start_ms: 59750\n  end_ms: 62420\n- text: Watchin MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n  start_ms: 62420\n  end_ms: 65160\n- text: I leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\n  start_ms: 65160\n  end_ms: 67800\n- text: That's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\n  start_ms: 67800\n  end_ms: 70690\n- text: I'm poppin mad shit, plus I can back it\n  start_ms: 70690\n  end_ms: 73360\n- text: Your man'll be like \"Yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\"\n  start_ms: 73360\n  end_ms: 75180\n- text: (Keith Murray)\n  start_ms: 75180\n  end_ms: 76090\n- text: It ain't a test or quiz that my Squad can't win\n  start_ms: 76090\n  end_ms: 76960\n- text: Those who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\n  start_ms: 76960\n  end_ms: 80640\n- text: Y'all digest, multiple stab wounds to the chest\n  start_ms: 80640\n  end_ms: 83340\n- text: And I copycat kill the rest, with no Method to my madness\n  start_ms: 83340\n  end_ms: 86940\n- text: Plus the apparatus with the baddest\n  start_ms: 86940\n  end_ms: 88740\n- text: Determined to be the last man, standin on the planet\n  start_ms: 88740\n  end_ms: 91480\n- text: Y'all get attached, like a blood-suckin leech\n  start_ms: 91480\n  end_ms: 94140\n- text: When you fall into my rhythm of speech\n  start_ms: 94140\n  end_ms: 96810\n- text: Your hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\n  start_ms: 96810\n  end_ms: 99670\n- text: Head get wrapped up neck get thrown in a neck brace\n  start_ms: 99670\n  end_ms: 102320\n- text: Rough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\n  start_ms: 102320\n  end_ms: 105020\n- text: Will ironically chronically murder you and your crew\n  start_ms: 105020\n  end_ms: 107740\n- text: My directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\n  start_ms: 107740\n  end_ms: 110460\n- text: See I get to the bottom of the problem, and make shit give\n  start_ms: 110460\n  end_ms: 113170\n- text: Step in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\n  start_ms: 113170\n  end_ms: 114990\n- text: cast to the masses grabs the mic\n  start_ms: 114990\n  end_ms: 115880\n- text: Ten dollar rappers, is what L.O.D. goes after\n  start_ms: 115880\n  end_ms: 118520\n- text: To my Squad, there's no matches, we bashes\n  start_ms: 118520\n  end_ms: 121220\n- text: Do photo flashes on all flavor S-classes\n  start_ms: 121220\n  end_ms: 123080\n- text: Bomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\n  start_ms: 123080\n  end_ms: 127680\n- text: Tie you up, throw you in the act\n  start_ms: 127680\n  end_ms: 129400\n- text: A public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n  start_ms: 129400\n  end_ms: 132100\n- text: Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up\n  start_ms: 132100\n  end_ms: 133960\n- text: (Jamal)\n  start_ms: 133960\n  end_ms: 134830\n- text: Muddy Waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\n  start_ms: 134830\n  end_ms: 137660\n- text: Drunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\n  start_ms: 137660\n  end_ms: 139430\n- text: Fuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\n  start_ms: 139430\n  end_ms: 142150\n- text: Playin that big shit get broke down microscopic\n  start_ms: 142150\n  end_ms: 144850\n- text: Freak it back keep the track ringin, with the bassline\n  start_ms: 144850\n  end_ms: 146680\n- text: It's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\n  start_ms: 146680\n  end_ms: 150270\n- text: Face the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\n  start_ms: 150270\n  end_ms: 152970\n- text: Around and round, avoidin the time to put it down\n  start_ms: 152970\n  end_ms: 155670\n- text: Now's the time here yeah\n  start_ms: 155670\n  end_ms: 156560\n- text: (Erick Sermon)\n  start_ms: 156560\n  end_ms: 157430\n- text: Clown where, pick a spot\n  start_ms: 157430\n  end_ms: 158310\n- text: Neutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\n  start_ms: 158310\n  end_ms: 161050\n- text: (Jamal)\n  start_ms: 161050\n  end_ms: 161940\n- text: Gangsta, so called killin, cap peelin\n  start_ms: 161940\n  end_ms: 163780\n- text: Playalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n  start_ms: 163780\n  end_ms: 166450\n- text: Play your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\n  start_ms: 166450\n  end_ms: 169190\n- text: Night fall might call your life, shit is trife\n  start_ms: 169190\n  end_ms: 171820\n- text: on these evil streets after dark\n  start_ms: 171820\n  end_ms: 172780\n- text: Niggaz gettin sparked left and outlined in chalk\n  start_ms: 172780\n  end_ms: 175530\n- text: New day, this whole shit's twisted (is it man)\n  start_ms: 175530\n  end_ms: 178280\n- text: It's me bombin on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\n  start_ms: 178280\n  end_ms: 182750\n- text: open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\n  start_ms: 182750\n  end_ms: 185430\n- text: Hopin to ride in the, industry with E\n  start_ms: 185430\n  end_ms: 188170\n- text: The villain's had it cause ahead (word up yeah)\n  start_ms: 188170\n  end_ms: 189970\n- text: Killin my psychosomatic pattern mad (yeah)\n  start_ms: 189970\n  end_ms: 192750\n- text: (Erick Sermon)\n  start_ms: 192750\n  end_ms: 193660\n- text: Y'all know, uhh, yeah, Muddy Waters\n  start_ms: 193660\n  end_ms: 201760\n- text: We out for nine-seven, word up, peace\n  start_ms: 201760\n  end_ms: 203650\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 203650\nplain: |-\n  (Erick Sermon)\n  Yo Reggie, I'mout\n\n  (Jamal)\n  T-ree F Squad\n  Muddy Waters\n  Don't get it twisted... nigga\n\n  (Redman)\n  Aiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\n  Fuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\n  Rock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\n  I beez that, freak of the week like I made Knee Deep\n  Hold up! Rotate around the solar, badder than Cobra\n  Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps Folgers\n  I'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\n  without the MSG and chopped celery\n  See, I made it, my flavor situated\n  from the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\n  Plus, I'm thick like Quakers on papers\n  Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n  lettering, and the medicine, that I'm swallowin\n  Get you hollerin, like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\n  in the chest, I roll with two stacks of Tecs\n  And mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n  UHH! Mister Fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\n  When I'm blasted, my Method magics get drastic\n  That you can't see with bifocals\n  Watchin MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n  I leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\n  That's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\n  I'm poppin mad shit, plus I can back it\n  Your man'll be like \"Yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\"\n\n  (Keith Murray)\n  It ain't a test or quiz that my Squad can't win\n  Those who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\n  Y'all digest, multiple stab wounds to the chest\n  And I copycat kill the rest, with no Method to my madness\n  Plus the apparatus with the baddest\n  Determined to be the last man, standin on the planet\n  Y'all get attached, like a blood-suckin leech\n  When you fall into my rhythm of speech\n  Your hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\n  Head get wrapped up neck get thrown in a neck brace\n  Rough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\n  Will ironically chronically murder you and your crew\n  My directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\n  See I get to the bottom of the problem, and make shit give\n  Step in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\n  cast to the masses grabs the mic\n  Ten dollar rappers, is what L.O.D. goes after\n  To my Squad, there's no matches, we bashes\n  Do photo flashes on all flavor S-classes\n  Bomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\n  Tie you up, throw you in the act\n  A public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n  Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up\n\n  (Jamal)\n  Muddy Waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\n  Drunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\n  Fuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\n  Playin that big shit get broke down microscopic\n  Freak it back keep the track ringin, with the bassline\n  It's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\n  Face the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\n  Around and round, avoidin the time to put it down\n  Now's the time here yeah\n\n  (Erick Sermon)\n  Clown where, pick a spot\n  Neutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\n\n  (Jamal)\n  Gangsta, so called killin, cap peelin\n  Playalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n  Play your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\n  Night fall might call your life, shit is trife\n  on these evil streets after dark\n  Niggaz gettin sparked left and outlined in chalk\n  New day, this whole shit's twisted (is it man)\n  It's me bombin on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\n  open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\n  Hopin to ride in the, industry with E\n  The villain's had it cause ahead (word up yeah)\n  Killin my psychosomatic pattern mad (yeah)\n\n  (Erick Sermon)\n  Y'all know, uhh, yeah, Muddy Waters\n  We out for nine-seven, word up, peace\n"},{"id":27197257,"name":"Da Ill Out","trackName":"Da Ill Out","artistName":"Redman","albumName":"Muddy Waters (Re-Rip)","duration":215.789083,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(Erick Sermon)\nYo Reggie, I'mout\n\n(Jamal)\nT-ree F Squad\nMuddy Waters\nDon't get it twisted... nigga\n\n(Redman)\nAiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\nFuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\nRock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\nI beez that, freak of the week like I made Knee Deep\nHold up! Rotate around the solar, badder than Cobra\nComposure never sleeps, my stream pumps Folgers\nI'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\nWithout the MSG and chopped celery\nSee, I made it, my flavor situated\nFrom the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\nPlus, I'm thick like Quakers on papers\nBodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\nLettering, and the medicine, that I'm swallowin\nGet you hollerin, like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\nIn the chest, I roll with two stacks of Tecs\nAnd mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\nUHH! Mister Fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\nWhen I'm blasted, my Method magics get drastic\nThat you can't see with bifocals\nWatchin MC's go up and down like stock brokers\nI leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\nThat's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\nI'm poppin mad shit, plus I can back it\nYour man'll be like \"Yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\"\n\n(Keith Murray)\nIt ain't a test or quiz that my Squad can't win\nThose who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\nY'all digest, multiple stab wounds to the chest\nAnd I copycat kill the rest, with no Method to my madness\nPlus the apparatus with the baddest\nDetermined to be the last man, standin on the planet\nY'all get attached, like a blood-suckin leech\nWhen you fall into my rhythm of speech\nYour hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\nHead get wrapped up neck get thrown in a neck brace\nRough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\nWill ironically chronically murder you and your crew\nMy directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\nSee I get to the bottom of the problem, and make shit give\nStep in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\nCast to the masses grabs the mic\nTen dollar rappers, is what L.O.D. goes after\nTo my Squad, there's no matches, we bashes\nDo photo flashes on all flavor S-classes\nBomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\nTie you up, throw you in the act\nA public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\nCause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up\n\n(Jamal)\nMuddy Waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\nDrunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\nFuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\nPlayin that big shit get broke down microscopic\nFreak it back keep the track ringin, with the bassline\nIt's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\nFace the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\nAround and round, avoidin the time to put it down\nNow's the time here yeah\n\n(Erick Sermon)\nClown where, pick a spot\nNeutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\n\n(Jamal)\nGangsta, so called killin, cap peelin\nPlayalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\nPlay your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\nNight fall might call your life, shit is trife\nOn these evil streets after dark\nNiggaz gettin sparked left and outlined in chalk\nNew day, this whole shit's twisted (is it man)\nIt's me bombin on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\nOpen your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\nHopin to ride in the, industry with E\nThe villain's had it cause ahead (word up yeah)\nKillin my psychosomatic pattern mad (yeah)\n\n(Erick Sermon)\nY'all know, uhh, yeah, Muddy Waters\nWe out for nine-seven, word up, peace","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.88] (Erick Sermon)\n[00:01.70] Yo Reggie, I'mout\n[00:02.69] (Jamal)\n[00:03.66] T-ree F Squad\n[00:04.54] Muddy Waters\n[00:07.29] Don't get it twisted... nigga\n[00:10.89] (Redman)\n[00:11.73] Aiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\n[00:14.40] Fuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\n[00:17.16] Rock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\n[00:18.99] I beez that, freak of the week like I made Knee Deep\n[00:21.67] Hold up! Rotate around the solar, badder than Cobra\n[00:24.49] Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps Folgers\n[00:28.04] I'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\n[00:30.70] Without the MSG and chopped celery\n[00:33.41] See, I made it, my flavor situated\n[00:35.29] From the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\n[00:38.91] Plus, I'm thick like Quakers on papers\n[00:40.72] Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n[00:43.40] Lettering, and the medicine, that I'm swallowin\n[00:46.23] Get you hollerin, like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\n[00:49.85] In the chest, I roll with two stacks of Tecs\n[00:51.60] And mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n[00:54.32] UHH! Mister Fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\n[00:57.92] When I'm blasted, my Method magics get drastic\n[00:59.75] That you can't see with bifocals\n[01:02.42] Watchin MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n[01:05.16] I leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\n[01:07.80] That's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\n[01:10.69] I'm poppin mad shit, plus I can back it\n[01:13.36] Your man'll be like \"Yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\"\n[01:15.18] (Keith Murray)\n[01:16.09] It ain't a test or quiz that my Squad can't win\n[01:16.96] Those who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\n[01:20.64] Y'all digest, multiple stab wounds to the chest\n[01:23.34] And I copycat kill the rest, with no Method to my madness\n[01:26.94] Plus the apparatus with the baddest\n[01:28.74] Determined to be the last man, standin on the planet\n[01:31.48] Y'all get attached, like a blood-suckin leech\n[01:34.14] When you fall into my rhythm of speech\n[01:36.81] Your hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\n[01:39.67] Head get wrapped up neck get thrown in a neck brace\n[01:42.32] Rough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\n[01:45.02] Will ironically chronically murder you and your crew\n[01:47.74] My directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\n[01:50.46] See I get to the bottom of the problem, and make shit give\n[01:53.17] Step in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\n[01:54.99] Cast to the masses grabs the mic\n[01:55.88] Ten dollar rappers, is what L.O.D. goes after\n[01:58.52] To my Squad, there's no matches, we bashes\n[02:01.22] Do photo flashes on all flavor S-classes\n[02:03.08] Bomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\n[02:07.68] Tie you up, throw you in the act\n[02:09.40] A public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n[02:12.10] Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up\n[02:13.96] (Jamal)\n[02:14.83] Muddy Waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\n[02:17.66] Drunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\n[02:19.43] Fuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\n[02:22.15] Playin that big shit get broke down microscopic\n[02:24.85] Freak it back keep the track ringin, with the bassline\n[02:26.68] It's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\n[02:30.27] Face the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\n[02:32.97] Around and round, avoidin the time to put it down\n[02:35.67] Now's the time here yeah\n[02:36.56] (Erick Sermon)\n[02:37.43] Clown where, pick a spot\n[02:38.31] Neutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\n[02:41.05] (Jamal)\n[02:41.94] Gangsta, so called killin, cap peelin\n[02:43.78] Playalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n[02:46.45] Play your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\n[02:49.19] Night fall might call your life, shit is trife\n[02:51.82] On these evil streets after dark\n[02:52.78] Niggaz gettin sparked left and outlined in chalk\n[02:55.53] New day, this whole shit's twisted (is it man)\n[02:58.28] It's me bombin on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\n[03:02.75] Open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\n[03:05.43] Hopin to ride in the, industry with E\n[03:08.17] The villain's had it cause ahead (word up yeah)\n[03:09.97] Killin my psychosomatic pattern mad (yeah)\n[03:12.75] (Erick Sermon)\n[03:13.66] Y'all know, uhh, yeah, Muddy Waters\n[03:21.76] We out for nine-seven, word up, peace\n[03:23.65] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Da Ill Out\n  artist: Redman\n  album: Muddy Waters (Re-Rip)\n  duration_ms: 215789\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: (Erick Sermon)\n  start_ms: 880\n  end_ms: 1700\n- text: Yo Reggie, I'mout\n  start_ms: 1700\n  end_ms: 2690\n- text: (Jamal)\n  start_ms: 2690\n  end_ms: 3660\n- text: T-ree F Squad\n  start_ms: 3660\n  end_ms: 4540\n- text: Muddy Waters\n  start_ms: 4540\n  end_ms: 7290\n- text: Don't get it twisted... nigga\n  start_ms: 7290\n  end_ms: 10890\n- text: (Redman)\n  start_ms: 10890\n  end_ms: 11730\n- text: Aiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\n  start_ms: 11730\n  end_ms: 14400\n- text: Fuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\n  start_ms: 14400\n  end_ms: 17160\n- text: Rock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\n  start_ms: 17160\n  end_ms: 18990\n- text: I beez that, freak of the week like I made Knee Deep\n  start_ms: 18990\n  end_ms: 21670\n- text: Hold up! Rotate around the solar, badder than Cobra\n  start_ms: 21670\n  end_ms: 24490\n- text: Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps Folgers\n  start_ms: 24490\n  end_ms: 28040\n- text: I'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\n  start_ms: 28040\n  end_ms: 30700\n- text: Without the MSG and chopped celery\n  start_ms: 30700\n  end_ms: 33410\n- text: See, I made it, my flavor situated\n  start_ms: 33410\n  end_ms: 35290\n- text: From the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\n  start_ms: 35290\n  end_ms: 38910\n- text: Plus, I'm thick like Quakers on papers\n  start_ms: 38910\n  end_ms: 40720\n- text: Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n  start_ms: 40720\n  end_ms: 43400\n- text: Lettering, and the medicine, that I'm swallowin\n  start_ms: 43400\n  end_ms: 46230\n- text: Get you hollerin, like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\n  start_ms: 46230\n  end_ms: 49850\n- text: In the chest, I roll with two stacks of Tecs\n  start_ms: 49850\n  end_ms: 51600\n- text: And mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n  start_ms: 51600\n  end_ms: 54320\n- text: UHH! Mister Fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\n  start_ms: 54320\n  end_ms: 57920\n- text: When I'm blasted, my Method magics get drastic\n  start_ms: 57920\n  end_ms: 59750\n- text: That you can't see with bifocals\n  start_ms: 59750\n  end_ms: 62420\n- text: Watchin MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n  start_ms: 62420\n  end_ms: 65160\n- text: I leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\n  start_ms: 65160\n  end_ms: 67800\n- text: That's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\n  start_ms: 67800\n  end_ms: 70690\n- text: I'm poppin mad shit, plus I can back it\n  start_ms: 70690\n  end_ms: 73360\n- text: Your man'll be like \"Yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\"\n  start_ms: 73360\n  end_ms: 75180\n- text: (Keith Murray)\n  start_ms: 75180\n  end_ms: 76090\n- text: It ain't a test or quiz that my Squad can't win\n  start_ms: 76090\n  end_ms: 76960\n- text: Those who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\n  start_ms: 76960\n  end_ms: 80640\n- text: Y'all digest, multiple stab wounds to the chest\n  start_ms: 80640\n  end_ms: 83340\n- text: And I copycat kill the rest, with no Method to my madness\n  start_ms: 83340\n  end_ms: 86940\n- text: Plus the apparatus with the baddest\n  start_ms: 86940\n  end_ms: 88740\n- text: Determined to be the last man, standin on the planet\n  start_ms: 88740\n  end_ms: 91480\n- text: Y'all get attached, like a blood-suckin leech\n  start_ms: 91480\n  end_ms: 94140\n- text: When you fall into my rhythm of speech\n  start_ms: 94140\n  end_ms: 96810\n- text: Your hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\n  start_ms: 96810\n  end_ms: 99670\n- text: Head get wrapped up neck get thrown in a neck brace\n  start_ms: 99670\n  end_ms: 102320\n- text: Rough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\n  start_ms: 102320\n  end_ms: 105020\n- text: Will ironically chronically murder you and your crew\n  start_ms: 105020\n  end_ms: 107740\n- text: My directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\n  start_ms: 107740\n  end_ms: 110460\n- text: See I get to the bottom of the problem, and make shit give\n  start_ms: 110460\n  end_ms: 113170\n- text: Step in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\n  start_ms: 113170\n  end_ms: 114990\n- text: Cast to the masses grabs the mic\n  start_ms: 114990\n  end_ms: 115880\n- text: Ten dollar rappers, is what L.O.D. goes after\n  start_ms: 115880\n  end_ms: 118520\n- text: To my Squad, there's no matches, we bashes\n  start_ms: 118520\n  end_ms: 121220\n- text: Do photo flashes on all flavor S-classes\n  start_ms: 121220\n  end_ms: 123080\n- text: Bomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\n  start_ms: 123080\n  end_ms: 127680\n- text: Tie you up, throw you in the act\n  start_ms: 127680\n  end_ms: 129400\n- text: A public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n  start_ms: 129400\n  end_ms: 132100\n- text: Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up\n  start_ms: 132100\n  end_ms: 133960\n- text: (Jamal)\n  start_ms: 133960\n  end_ms: 134830\n- text: Muddy Waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\n  start_ms: 134830\n  end_ms: 137660\n- text: Drunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\n  start_ms: 137660\n  end_ms: 139430\n- text: Fuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\n  start_ms: 139430\n  end_ms: 142150\n- text: Playin that big shit get broke down microscopic\n  start_ms: 142150\n  end_ms: 144850\n- text: Freak it back keep the track ringin, with the bassline\n  start_ms: 144850\n  end_ms: 146680\n- text: It's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\n  start_ms: 146680\n  end_ms: 150270\n- text: Face the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\n  start_ms: 150270\n  end_ms: 152970\n- text: Around and round, avoidin the time to put it down\n  start_ms: 152970\n  end_ms: 155670\n- text: Now's the time here yeah\n  start_ms: 155670\n  end_ms: 156560\n- text: (Erick Sermon)\n  start_ms: 156560\n  end_ms: 157430\n- text: Clown where, pick a spot\n  start_ms: 157430\n  end_ms: 158310\n- text: Neutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\n  start_ms: 158310\n  end_ms: 161050\n- text: (Jamal)\n  start_ms: 161050\n  end_ms: 161940\n- text: Gangsta, so called killin, cap peelin\n  start_ms: 161940\n  end_ms: 163780\n- text: Playalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n  start_ms: 163780\n  end_ms: 166450\n- text: Play your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\n  start_ms: 166450\n  end_ms: 169190\n- text: Night fall might call your life, shit is trife\n  start_ms: 169190\n  end_ms: 171820\n- text: On these evil streets after dark\n  start_ms: 171820\n  end_ms: 172780\n- text: Niggaz gettin sparked left and outlined in chalk\n  start_ms: 172780\n  end_ms: 175530\n- text: New day, this whole shit's twisted (is it man)\n  start_ms: 175530\n  end_ms: 178280\n- text: It's me bombin on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\n  start_ms: 178280\n  end_ms: 182750\n- text: Open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\n  start_ms: 182750\n  end_ms: 185430\n- text: Hopin to ride in the, industry with E\n  start_ms: 185430\n  end_ms: 188170\n- text: The villain's had it cause ahead (word up yeah)\n  start_ms: 188170\n  end_ms: 189970\n- text: Killin my psychosomatic pattern mad (yeah)\n  start_ms: 189970\n  end_ms: 192750\n- text: (Erick Sermon)\n  start_ms: 192750\n  end_ms: 193660\n- text: Y'all know, uhh, yeah, Muddy Waters\n  start_ms: 193660\n  end_ms: 201760\n- text: We out for nine-seven, word up, peace\n  start_ms: 201760\n  end_ms: 203650\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 203650\nplain: |-\n  (Erick Sermon)\n  Yo Reggie, I'mout\n\n  (Jamal)\n  T-ree F Squad\n  Muddy Waters\n  Don't get it twisted... nigga\n\n  (Redman)\n  Aiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\n  Fuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\n  Rock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\n  I beez that, freak of the week like I made Knee Deep\n  Hold up! Rotate around the solar, badder than Cobra\n  Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps Folgers\n  I'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\n  Without the MSG and chopped celery\n  See, I made it, my flavor situated\n  From the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\n  Plus, I'm thick like Quakers on papers\n  Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n  Lettering, and the medicine, that I'm swallowin\n  Get you hollerin, like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\n  In the chest, I roll with two stacks of Tecs\n  And mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n  UHH! Mister Fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\n  When I'm blasted, my Method magics get drastic\n  That you can't see with bifocals\n  Watchin MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n  I leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\n  That's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\n  I'm poppin mad shit, plus I can back it\n  Your man'll be like \"Yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\"\n\n  (Keith Murray)\n  It ain't a test or quiz that my Squad can't win\n  Those who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\n  Y'all digest, multiple stab wounds to the chest\n  And I copycat kill the rest, with no Method to my madness\n  Plus the apparatus with the baddest\n  Determined to be the last man, standin on the planet\n  Y'all get attached, like a blood-suckin leech\n  When you fall into my rhythm of speech\n  Your hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\n  Head get wrapped up neck get thrown in a neck brace\n  Rough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\n  Will ironically chronically murder you and your crew\n  My directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\n  See I get to the bottom of the problem, and make shit give\n  Step in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\n  Cast to the masses grabs the mic\n  Ten dollar rappers, is what L.O.D. goes after\n  To my Squad, there's no matches, we bashes\n  Do photo flashes on all flavor S-classes\n  Bomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\n  Tie you up, throw you in the act\n  A public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n  Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up\n\n  (Jamal)\n  Muddy Waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\n  Drunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\n  Fuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\n  Playin that big shit get broke down microscopic\n  Freak it back keep the track ringin, with the bassline\n  It's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\n  Face the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\n  Around and round, avoidin the time to put it down\n  Now's the time here yeah\n\n  (Erick Sermon)\n  Clown where, pick a spot\n  Neutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\n\n  (Jamal)\n  Gangsta, so called killin, cap peelin\n  Playalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n  Play your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\n  Night fall might call your life, shit is trife\n  On these evil streets after dark\n  Niggaz gettin sparked left and outlined in chalk\n  New day, this whole shit's twisted (is it man)\n  It's me bombin on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\n  Open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\n  Hopin to ride in the, industry with E\n  The villain's had it cause ahead (word up yeah)\n  Killin my psychosomatic pattern mad (yeah)\n\n  (Erick Sermon)\n  Y'all know, uhh, yeah, Muddy Waters\n  We out for nine-seven, word up, peace\n"},{"id":9621961,"name":"Da Ill Out","trackName":"Da Ill Out","artistName":"Redman/Jamal/Keith Murray","albumName":"Muddy Waters","duration":215.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo Reggie, I'm out\nT-ree F Squad\nMuddy Waters\nDon't get it twisted, nigga\n\nAiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\nFuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\nRock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\nI beez that, freak of the week like I made knee deep\n\nHold up, rotate around the solar, badder than cobra\nComposure never sleeps, my stream pumps folgers\nI'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\nWithout the MSG and chopped celery\n\nSee, I made it, my flavor situated\nFrom the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\nPlus, I'm thick like quakers on papers\nBodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n\nLetterin' and the medicine, that I'm swallowin'\nGet you hollerin', like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\nIn the chest, I roll with two stacks of tecs\nAnd mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n\nMister fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\nWhen I'm blasted, my method magics get drastic\nThat you can't see with bifocals\nWatchin' MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n\nI leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\nThat's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\nI'm poppin' mad shit, plus I can back it\nYour man'll be like, yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\n\nIt ain't a test or quiz that my squad can't win\nThose who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\nY'all digest multiple stab wounds to the chest\nAnd I copycat kill the rest, with no method to my madness\n\nPlus the apparatus with the baddest\nDetermined to be the last man, standin' on the planet\nY'all get attached, like a blood-suckin' leech\nWhen you fall into my rhythm of speech\n\nYour hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\nHead get wrapped up neck get throwin' in a neck brace\nRough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\nWill ironically, chronically murder you and your crew\n\nMy directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\nSee I get to the bottom of the problem and make shit give\nStep in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\nCast to the masses grabs the mic\nTen dollar rappers is what L.O.D. goes after\n\nTo my squad, there's no matches, we bashes\nDo photo flashes on all flavor s-classes\nBomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\nTie you up, throw you in the act\nA public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n'Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up\n\nMuddy waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\nDrunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\nFuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\nPlayin' that big shit get broke down microscopic\n\nFreak it back keep the track ringin', with the bassline\nIt's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\nFace the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\nAround and round, avoidin' the time to put it down\n\nNow's the time here yeah, clown where, pick a spot\nNeutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\nGangsta, so called killin', cap peelin'\nPlayalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n\nPlay your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\nNight fall might call your life, shit is trife\nOn these evil streets after dark\nNiggaz gettin' sparked left and outlined in chalk\n\nNew day, this whole shit's twisted is it man\nIt's me bombin' on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\nOpen your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\nHopin' to ride in the, industry with E\n\nThe villain's had it cause ahead, word up yeah\nKillin my psychosomatic pattern mad, yeah\nY'all know, uhh, yeah, muddy waters\nWe out for nine-seven, word up, peace","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.29] Yo Reggie, I'm out\n[00:02.87] T-ree F Squad\n[00:04.65] Muddy Waters\n[00:08.28] Don't get it twisted, nigga\n[00:11.04] Aiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\n[00:13.72] Fuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\n[00:16.52] Rock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\n[00:19.28] I beez that, freak of the week like I made knee deep\n[00:21.97] Hold up, rotate around the solar, badder than cobra\n[00:24.74] Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps folgers\n[00:27.46] I'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\n[00:31.05] Without the MSG and chopped celery\n[00:32.94] See, I made it, my flavor situated\n[00:35.60] From the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\n[00:38.46] Plus, I'm thick like quakers on papers\n[00:41.11] Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n[00:43.97] Letterin' and the medicine, that I'm swallowin'\n[00:45.73] Get you hollerin', like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\n[00:49.38] In the chest, I roll with two stacks of tecs\n[00:51.21] And mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n[00:53.94] Mister fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\n[00:57.62] When I'm blasted, my method magics get drastic\n[01:00.31] That you can't see with bifocals\n[01:02.16] Watchin' MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n[01:04.96] I leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\n[01:08.56] That's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\n[01:10.31] I'm poppin' mad shit, plus I can back it\n[01:13.17] Your man'll be like, yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\n[01:15.82] It ain't a test or quiz that my squad can't win\n[01:17.79] Those who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\n[01:21.33] Y'all digest multiple stab wounds to the chest\n[01:23.12] And I copycat kill the rest, with no method to my madness\n[01:26.87] Plus the apparatus with the baddest\n[01:28.69] Determined to be the last man, standin' on the planet\n[01:31.40] Y'all get attached, like a blood-suckin' leech\n[01:34.11] When you fall into my rhythm of speech\n[01:36.82] Your hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\n[01:39.62] Head get wrapped up neck get throwin' in a neck brace\n[01:42.30] Rough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\n[01:45.19] Will ironically, chronically murder you and your crew\n[01:47.86] My directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\n[01:50.56] See I get to the bottom of the problem and make shit give\n[01:53.34] Step in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\n[01:55.11] Cast to the masses grabs the mic\n[01:56.07] Ten dollar rappers is what L.O.D. goes after\n[01:58.81] To my squad, there's no matches, we bashes\n[02:00.62] Do photo flashes on all flavor s-classes\n[02:03.34] Bomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\n[02:07.84] Tie you up, throw you in the act\n[02:08.81] A public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n[02:12.45] 'Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up\n[02:15.18] Muddy waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\n[02:17.94] Drunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\n[02:19.77] Fuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\n[02:22.45] Playin' that big shit get broke down microscopic\n[02:25.20] Freak it back keep the track ringin', with the bassline\n[02:27.93] It's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\n[02:30.67] Face the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\n[02:33.48] Around and round, avoidin' the time to put it down\n[02:35.25] Now's the time here yeah, clown where, pick a spot\n[02:38.06] Neutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\n[02:40.70] Gangsta, so called killin', cap peelin'\n[02:43.57] Playalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n[02:46.23] Play your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\n[02:48.90] Night fall might call your life, shit is trife\n[02:51.77] On these evil streets after dark\n[02:53.75] Niggaz gettin' sparked left and outlined in chalk\n[02:56.52] New day, this whole shit's twisted is it man\n[03:00.10] It's me bombin' on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\n[03:02.95] Open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\n[03:05.61] Hopin' to ride in the, industry with E\n[03:08.37] The villain's had it cause ahead, word up yeah\n[03:10.61] Killin my psychosomatic pattern mad, yeah\n[03:15.26] Y'all know, uhh, yeah, muddy waters\n[03:20.78] We out for nine-seven, word up, peace\n[03:28.09] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Da Ill Out\n  artist: Redman/Jamal/Keith Murray\n  album: Muddy Waters\n  duration_ms: 215000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yo Reggie, I'm out\n  start_ms: 290\n  end_ms: 2870\n- text: T-ree F Squad\n  start_ms: 2870\n  end_ms: 4650\n- text: Muddy Waters\n  start_ms: 4650\n  end_ms: 8280\n- text: Don't get it twisted, nigga\n  start_ms: 8280\n  end_ms: 11040\n- text: Aiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\n  start_ms: 11040\n  end_ms: 13720\n- text: Fuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\n  start_ms: 13720\n  end_ms: 16520\n- text: Rock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\n  start_ms: 16520\n  end_ms: 19280\n- text: I beez that, freak of the week like I made knee deep\n  start_ms: 19280\n  end_ms: 21970\n- text: Hold up, rotate around the solar, badder than cobra\n  start_ms: 21970\n  end_ms: 24740\n- text: Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps folgers\n  start_ms: 24740\n  end_ms: 27460\n- text: I'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\n  start_ms: 27460\n  end_ms: 31050\n- text: Without the MSG and chopped celery\n  start_ms: 31050\n  end_ms: 32940\n- text: See, I made it, my flavor situated\n  start_ms: 32940\n  end_ms: 35600\n- text: From the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\n  start_ms: 35600\n  end_ms: 38460\n- text: Plus, I'm thick like quakers on papers\n  start_ms: 38460\n  end_ms: 41110\n- text: Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n  start_ms: 41110\n  end_ms: 43970\n- text: Letterin' and the medicine, that I'm swallowin'\n  start_ms: 43970\n  end_ms: 45730\n- text: Get you hollerin', like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\n  start_ms: 45730\n  end_ms: 49380\n- text: In the chest, I roll with two stacks of tecs\n  start_ms: 49380\n  end_ms: 51210\n- text: And mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n  start_ms: 51210\n  end_ms: 53940\n- text: Mister fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass 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110560\n  end_ms: 113340\n- text: Step in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\n  start_ms: 113340\n  end_ms: 115110\n- text: Cast to the masses grabs the mic\n  start_ms: 115110\n  end_ms: 116070\n- text: Ten dollar rappers is what L.O.D. goes after\n  start_ms: 116070\n  end_ms: 118810\n- text: To my squad, there's no matches, we bashes\n  start_ms: 118810\n  end_ms: 120620\n- text: Do photo flashes on all flavor s-classes\n  start_ms: 120620\n  end_ms: 123340\n- text: Bomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\n  start_ms: 123340\n  end_ms: 127840\n- text: Tie you up, throw you in the act\n  start_ms: 127840\n  end_ms: 128810\n- text: A public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n  start_ms: 128810\n  end_ms: 132450\n- text: '''Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up'\n  start_ms: 132450\n  end_ms: 135180\n- text: Muddy waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\n  start_ms: 135180\n  end_ms: 137940\n- text: Drunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\n  start_ms: 137940\n  end_ms: 139770\n- text: Fuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\n  start_ms: 139770\n  end_ms: 142450\n- text: Playin' that big shit get broke down microscopic\n  start_ms: 142450\n  end_ms: 145200\n- text: Freak it back keep the track ringin', with the bassline\n  start_ms: 145200\n  end_ms: 147930\n- text: It's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\n  start_ms: 147930\n  end_ms: 150670\n- text: Face the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\n  start_ms: 150670\n  end_ms: 153480\n- text: Around and round, avoidin' the time to put it down\n  start_ms: 153480\n  end_ms: 155250\n- text: Now's the time here yeah, clown where, pick a spot\n  start_ms: 155250\n  end_ms: 158060\n- text: Neutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\n  start_ms: 158060\n  end_ms: 160700\n- text: Gangsta, so called killin', cap peelin'\n  start_ms: 160700\n  end_ms: 163570\n- text: Playalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n  start_ms: 163570\n  end_ms: 166230\n- text: Play your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\n  start_ms: 166230\n  end_ms: 168900\n- text: Night fall might call your life, shit is trife\n  start_ms: 168900\n  end_ms: 171770\n- text: On these evil streets after dark\n  start_ms: 171770\n  end_ms: 173750\n- text: Niggaz gettin' sparked left and outlined in chalk\n  start_ms: 173750\n  end_ms: 176520\n- text: New day, this whole shit's twisted is it man\n  start_ms: 176520\n  end_ms: 180100\n- text: It's me bombin' on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\n  start_ms: 180100\n  end_ms: 182950\n- text: Open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\n  start_ms: 182950\n  end_ms: 185610\n- text: Hopin' to ride in the, industry with E\n  start_ms: 185610\n  end_ms: 188370\n- text: The villain's had it cause ahead, word up yeah\n  start_ms: 188370\n  end_ms: 190610\n- text: Killin my psychosomatic pattern mad, yeah\n  start_ms: 190610\n  end_ms: 195260\n- text: Y'all know, uhh, yeah, muddy waters\n  start_ms: 195260\n  end_ms: 200780\n- text: We out for nine-seven, word up, peace\n  start_ms: 200780\n  end_ms: 208090\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 208090\nplain: |-\n  Yo Reggie, I'm out\n  T-ree F Squad\n  Muddy Waters\n  Don't get it twisted, nigga\n\n  Aiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\n  Fuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\n  Rock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\n  I beez that, freak of the week like I made knee deep\n\n  Hold up, rotate around the solar, badder than cobra\n  Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps folgers\n  I'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\n  Without the MSG and chopped celery\n\n  See, I made it, my flavor situated\n  From the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\n  Plus, I'm thick like quakers on papers\n  Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n\n  Letterin' and the medicine, that I'm swallowin'\n  Get you hollerin', like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\n  In the chest, I roll with two stacks of tecs\n  And mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n\n  Mister fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\n  When I'm blasted, my method magics get drastic\n  That you can't see with bifocals\n  Watchin' MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n\n  I leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\n  That's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\n  I'm poppin' mad shit, plus I can back it\n  Your man'll be like, yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\n\n  It ain't a test or quiz that my squad can't win\n  Those who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\n  Y'all digest multiple stab wounds to the chest\n  And I copycat kill the rest, with no method to my madness\n\n  Plus the apparatus with the baddest\n  Determined to be the last man, standin' on the planet\n  Y'all get attached, like a blood-suckin' leech\n  When you fall into my rhythm of speech\n\n  Your hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\n  Head get wrapped up neck get throwin' in a neck brace\n  Rough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\n  Will ironically, chronically murder you and your crew\n\n  My directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\n  See I get to the bottom of the problem and make shit give\n  Step in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\n  Cast to the masses grabs the mic\n  Ten dollar rappers is what L.O.D. goes after\n\n  To my squad, there's no matches, we bashes\n  Do photo flashes on all flavor s-classes\n  Bomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\n  Tie you up, throw you in the act\n  A public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n  'Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up\n\n  Muddy waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\n  Drunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\n  Fuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\n  Playin' that big shit get broke down microscopic\n\n  Freak it back keep the track ringin', with the bassline\n  It's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\n  Face the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\n  Around and round, avoidin' the time to put it down\n\n  Now's the time here yeah, clown where, pick a spot\n  Neutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\n  Gangsta, so called killin', cap peelin'\n  Playalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n\n  Play your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\n  Night fall might call your life, shit is trife\n  On these evil streets after dark\n  Niggaz gettin' sparked left and outlined in chalk\n\n  New day, this whole shit's twisted is it man\n  It's me bombin' on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\n  Open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\n  Hopin' to ride in the, industry with E\n\n  The villain's had it cause ahead, word up yeah\n  Killin my psychosomatic pattern mad, yeah\n  Y'all know, uhh, yeah, muddy waters\n  We out for nine-seven, word up, peace\n"},{"id":39263351,"name":"Da Ill Out","trackName":"Da Ill Out","artistName":"Redman, Jamal, Keith Murray","albumName":"Compil Pierre D Auto","duration":215.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo Reggie, I'm out\nT-ree F Squad\nMuddy Waters\nDon't get it twisted, nigga\n\nAiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\nFuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\nRock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\nI beez that, freak of the week like I made knee deep\n\nHold up, rotate around the solar, badder than cobra\nComposure never sleeps, my stream pumps folgers\nI'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\nWithout the MSG and chopped celery\n\nSee, I made it, my flavor situated\nFrom the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\nPlus, I'm thick like quakers on papers\nBodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n\nLetterin' and the medicine, that I'm swallowin'\nGet you hollerin', like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\nIn the chest, I roll with two stacks of tecs\nAnd mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n\nMister fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\nWhen I'm blasted, my method magics get drastic\nThat you can't see with bifocals\nWatchin' MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n\nI leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\nThat's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\nI'm poppin' mad shit, plus I can back it\nYour man'll be like, yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\n\nIt ain't a test or quiz that my squad can't win\nThose who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\nY'all digest multiple stab wounds to the chest\nAnd I copycat kill the rest, with no method to my madness\n\nPlus the apparatus with the baddest\nDetermined to be the last man, standin' on the planet\nY'all get attached, like a blood-suckin' leech\nWhen you fall into my rhythm of speech\n\nYour hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\nHead get wrapped up neck get throwin' in a neck brace\nRough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\nWill ironically, chronically murder you and your crew\n\nMy directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\nSee I get to the bottom of the problem and make shit give\nStep in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\nCast to the masses grabs the mic\nTen dollar rappers is what L.O.D. goes after\n\nTo my squad, there's no matches, we bashes\nDo photo flashes on all flavor s-classes\nBomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\nTie you up, throw you in the act\nA public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n'Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up\n\nMuddy waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\nDrunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\nFuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\nPlayin' that big shit get broke down microscopic\n\nFreak it back keep the track ringin', with the bassline\nIt's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\nFace the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\nAround and round, avoidin' the time to put it down\n\nNow's the time here yeah, clown where, pick a spot\nNeutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\nGangsta, so called killin', cap peelin'\nPlayalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n\nPlay your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\nNight fall might call your life, shit is trife\nOn these evil streets after dark\nNiggaz gettin' sparked left and outlined in chalk\n\nNew day, this whole shit's twisted is it man\nIt's me bombin' on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\nOpen your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\nHopin' to ride in the, industry with E\n\nThe villain's had it cause ahead, word up yeah\nKillin my psychosomatic pattern mad, yeah\nY'all know, uhh, yeah, muddy waters\nWe out for nine-seven, word up, peace","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.29]Yo Reggie, I'm out\n[00:02.87]T-ree F Squad\n[00:04.65]Muddy Waters\n[00:08.28]Don't get it twisted, nigga\n[00:11.04]Aiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\n[00:13.72]Fuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\n[00:16.52]Rock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\n[00:19.28]I beez that, freak of the week like I made knee deep\n[00:21.97]Hold up, rotate around the solar, badder than cobra\n[00:24.74]Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps folgers\n[00:27.46]I'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\n[00:31.05]Without the MSG and chopped celery\n[00:32.94]See, I made it, my flavor situated\n[00:35.60]From the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\n[00:38.46]Plus, I'm thick like quakers on papers\n[00:41.11]Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n[00:43.97]Letterin' and the medicine, that I'm swallowin'\n[00:45.73]Get you hollerin', like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\n[00:49.38]In the chest, I roll with two stacks of tecs\n[00:51.21]And mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n[00:53.94]Mister fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\n[00:57.62]When I'm blasted, my method magics get drastic\n[01:00.31]That you can't see with bifocals\n[01:02.16]Watchin' MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n[01:04.96]I leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\n[01:08.56]That's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\n[01:10.31]I'm poppin' mad shit, plus I can back it\n[01:13.17]Your man'll be like, yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\n[01:15.82]It ain't a test or quiz that my squad can't win\n[01:17.79]Those who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\n[01:21.33]Y'all digest multiple stab wounds to the chest\n[01:23.12]And I copycat kill the rest, with no method to my madness\n[01:26.87]Plus the apparatus with the baddest\n[01:28.69]Determined to be the last man, standin' on the planet\n[01:31.40]Y'all get attached, like a blood-suckin' leech\n[01:34.11]When you fall into my rhythm of speech\n[01:36.82]Your hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\n[01:39.62]Head get wrapped up neck get throwin' in a neck brace\n[01:42.30]Rough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\n[01:45.19]Will ironically, chronically murder you and your crew\n[01:47.86]My directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\n[01:50.56]See I get to the bottom of the problem and make shit give\n[01:53.34]Step in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\n[01:55.11]Cast to the masses grabs the mic\n[01:56.07]Ten dollar rappers is what L.O.D. goes after\n[01:58.81]To my squad, there's no matches, we bashes\n[02:00.62]Do photo flashes on all flavor s-classes\n[02:03.34]Bomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\n[02:07.84]Tie you up, throw you in the act\n[02:08.81]A public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n[02:12.45]'Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up\n[02:15.18]Muddy waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\n[02:17.94]Drunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\n[02:19.77]Fuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\n[02:22.45]Playin' that big shit get broke down microscopic\n[02:25.20]Freak it back keep the track ringin', with the bassline\n[02:27.93]It's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\n[02:30.67]Face the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\n[02:33.48]Around and round, avoidin' the time to put it down\n[02:35.25]Now's the time here yeah, clown where, pick a spot\n[02:38.06]Neutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\n[02:40.70]Gangsta, so called killin', cap peelin'\n[02:43.57]Playalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n[02:46.23]Play your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\n[02:48.90]Night fall might call your life, shit is trife\n[02:51.77]On these evil streets after dark\n[02:53.75]Niggaz gettin' sparked left and outlined in chalk\n[02:56.52]New day, this whole shit's twisted is it man\n[03:00.10]It's me bombin' on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\n[03:02.95]Open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\n[03:05.61]Hopin' to ride in the, industry with E\n[03:08.37]The villain's had it cause ahead, word up yeah\n[03:10.61]Killin my psychosomatic pattern mad, yeah\n[03:15.26]Y'all know, uhh, yeah, muddy waters\n[03:20.78]We out for nine-seven, word up, peace\n[03:28.09]","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Da Ill Out\n  artist: Redman, Jamal, Keith Murray\n  album: Compil Pierre D Auto\n  duration_ms: 215293\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yo Reggie, I'm out\n  start_ms: 290\n  end_ms: 2870\n- text: T-ree F Squad\n  start_ms: 2870\n  end_ms: 4650\n- text: Muddy Waters\n  start_ms: 4650\n  end_ms: 8280\n- text: Don't get it twisted, nigga\n  start_ms: 8280\n  end_ms: 11040\n- text: Aiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\n  start_ms: 11040\n  end_ms: 13720\n- text: Fuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\n  start_ms: 13720\n  end_ms: 16520\n- text: Rock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\n  start_ms: 16520\n  end_ms: 19280\n- text: I beez that, freak of the week like I made knee deep\n  start_ms: 19280\n  end_ms: 21970\n- text: Hold up, rotate around the solar, badder than cobra\n  start_ms: 21970\n  end_ms: 24740\n- text: Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps folgers\n  start_ms: 24740\n  end_ms: 27460\n- text: I'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\n  start_ms: 27460\n  end_ms: 31050\n- text: Without the MSG and chopped celery\n  start_ms: 31050\n  end_ms: 32940\n- text: See, I made it, my flavor situated\n  start_ms: 32940\n  end_ms: 35600\n- text: From the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\n  start_ms: 35600\n  end_ms: 38460\n- text: Plus, I'm thick like quakers on papers\n  start_ms: 38460\n  end_ms: 41110\n- text: Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n  start_ms: 41110\n  end_ms: 43970\n- text: Letterin' and the medicine, that I'm swallowin'\n  start_ms: 43970\n  end_ms: 45730\n- text: Get you hollerin', like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\n  start_ms: 45730\n  end_ms: 49380\n- text: In the chest, I roll with two stacks of tecs\n  start_ms: 49380\n  end_ms: 51210\n- text: And mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n  start_ms: 51210\n  end_ms: 53940\n- text: Mister fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\n  start_ms: 53940\n  end_ms: 57620\n- text: When I'm blasted, my method magics get drastic\n  start_ms: 57620\n  end_ms: 60310\n- text: That you can't see with bifocals\n  start_ms: 60310\n  end_ms: 62160\n- text: Watchin' MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n  start_ms: 62160\n  end_ms: 64960\n- text: I leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\n  start_ms: 64960\n  end_ms: 68560\n- text: That's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\n  start_ms: 68560\n  end_ms: 70310\n- text: I'm poppin' mad shit, plus I can back it\n  start_ms: 70310\n  end_ms: 73170\n- text: Your man'll be like, yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\n  start_ms: 73170\n  end_ms: 75820\n- text: It ain't a test or quiz that my squad can't win\n  start_ms: 75820\n  end_ms: 77790\n- text: Those who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\n  start_ms: 77790\n  end_ms: 81330\n- text: Y'all digest multiple stab wounds to the chest\n  start_ms: 81330\n  end_ms: 83120\n- text: And I copycat kill the rest, with no method to my madness\n  start_ms: 83120\n  end_ms: 86870\n- text: Plus the apparatus with the baddest\n  start_ms: 86870\n  end_ms: 88690\n- text: Determined to be the last man, standin' on the planet\n  start_ms: 88690\n  end_ms: 91400\n- text: Y'all get attached, like a blood-suckin' leech\n  start_ms: 91400\n  end_ms: 94110\n- text: When you fall into my rhythm of speech\n  start_ms: 94110\n  end_ms: 96820\n- text: Your hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\n  start_ms: 96820\n  end_ms: 99620\n- text: Head get wrapped up neck get throwin' in a neck brace\n  start_ms: 99620\n  end_ms: 102300\n- text: Rough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\n  start_ms: 102300\n  end_ms: 105190\n- text: Will ironically, chronically murder you and your crew\n  start_ms: 105190\n  end_ms: 107860\n- text: My directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\n  start_ms: 107860\n  end_ms: 110560\n- text: See I get to the bottom of the problem and make shit give\n  start_ms: 110560\n  end_ms: 113340\n- text: Step in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\n  start_ms: 113340\n  end_ms: 115110\n- text: Cast to the masses grabs the mic\n  start_ms: 115110\n  end_ms: 116070\n- text: Ten dollar rappers is what L.O.D. goes after\n  start_ms: 116070\n  end_ms: 118810\n- text: To my squad, there's no matches, we bashes\n  start_ms: 118810\n  end_ms: 120620\n- text: Do photo flashes on all flavor s-classes\n  start_ms: 120620\n  end_ms: 123340\n- text: Bomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\n  start_ms: 123340\n  end_ms: 127840\n- text: Tie you up, throw you in the act\n  start_ms: 127840\n  end_ms: 128810\n- text: A public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n  start_ms: 128810\n  end_ms: 132450\n- text: '''Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up'\n  start_ms: 132450\n  end_ms: 135180\n- text: Muddy waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\n  start_ms: 135180\n  end_ms: 137940\n- text: Drunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\n  start_ms: 137940\n  end_ms: 139770\n- text: Fuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\n  start_ms: 139770\n  end_ms: 142450\n- text: Playin' that big shit get broke down microscopic\n  start_ms: 142450\n  end_ms: 145200\n- text: Freak it back keep the track ringin', with the bassline\n  start_ms: 145200\n  end_ms: 147930\n- text: It's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\n  start_ms: 147930\n  end_ms: 150670\n- text: Face the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\n  start_ms: 150670\n  end_ms: 153480\n- text: Around and round, avoidin' the time to put it down\n  start_ms: 153480\n  end_ms: 155250\n- text: Now's the time here yeah, clown where, pick a spot\n  start_ms: 155250\n  end_ms: 158060\n- text: Neutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\n  start_ms: 158060\n  end_ms: 160700\n- text: Gangsta, so called killin', cap peelin'\n  start_ms: 160700\n  end_ms: 163570\n- text: Playalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n  start_ms: 163570\n  end_ms: 166230\n- text: Play your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\n  start_ms: 166230\n  end_ms: 168900\n- text: Night fall might call your life, shit is trife\n  start_ms: 168900\n  end_ms: 171770\n- text: On these evil streets after dark\n  start_ms: 171770\n  end_ms: 173750\n- text: Niggaz gettin' sparked left and outlined in chalk\n  start_ms: 173750\n  end_ms: 176520\n- text: New day, this whole shit's twisted is it man\n  start_ms: 176520\n  end_ms: 180100\n- text: It's me bombin' on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\n  start_ms: 180100\n  end_ms: 182950\n- text: Open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\n  start_ms: 182950\n  end_ms: 185610\n- text: Hopin' to ride in the, industry with E\n  start_ms: 185610\n  end_ms: 188370\n- text: The villain's had it cause ahead, word up yeah\n  start_ms: 188370\n  end_ms: 190610\n- text: Killin my psychosomatic pattern mad, yeah\n  start_ms: 190610\n  end_ms: 195260\n- text: Y'all know, uhh, yeah, muddy waters\n  start_ms: 195260\n  end_ms: 200780\n- text: We out for nine-seven, word up, peace\n  start_ms: 200780\n  end_ms: 208090\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 208090\nplain: |-\n  Yo Reggie, I'm out\n  T-ree F Squad\n  Muddy Waters\n  Don't get it twisted, nigga\n\n  Aiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\n  Fuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\n  Rock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\n  I beez that, freak of the week like I made knee deep\n\n  Hold up, rotate around the solar, badder than cobra\n  Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps folgers\n  I'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\n  Without the MSG and chopped celery\n\n  See, I made it, my flavor situated\n  From the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\n  Plus, I'm thick like quakers on papers\n  Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n\n  Letterin' and the medicine, that I'm swallowin'\n  Get you hollerin', like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\n  In the chest, I roll with two stacks of tecs\n  And mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n\n  Mister fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\n  When I'm blasted, my method magics get drastic\n  That you can't see with bifocals\n  Watchin' MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n\n  I leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\n  That's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\n  I'm poppin' mad shit, plus I can back it\n  Your man'll be like, yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\n\n  It ain't a test or quiz that my squad can't win\n  Those who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\n  Y'all digest multiple stab wounds to the chest\n  And I copycat kill the rest, with no method to my madness\n\n  Plus the apparatus with the baddest\n  Determined to be the last man, standin' on the planet\n  Y'all get attached, like a blood-suckin' leech\n  When you fall into my rhythm of speech\n\n  Your hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\n  Head get wrapped up neck get throwin' in a neck brace\n  Rough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\n  Will ironically, chronically murder you and your crew\n\n  My directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\n  See I get to the bottom of the problem and make shit give\n  Step in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\n  Cast to the masses grabs the mic\n  Ten dollar rappers is what L.O.D. goes after\n\n  To my squad, there's no matches, we bashes\n  Do photo flashes on all flavor s-classes\n  Bomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\n  Tie you up, throw you in the act\n  A public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n  'Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up\n\n  Muddy waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\n  Drunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\n  Fuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\n  Playin' that big shit get broke down microscopic\n\n  Freak it back keep the track ringin', with the bassline\n  It's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\n  Face the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\n  Around and round, avoidin' the time to put it down\n\n  Now's the time here yeah, clown where, pick a spot\n  Neutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\n  Gangsta, so called killin', cap peelin'\n  Playalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n\n  Play your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\n  Night fall might call your life, shit is trife\n  On these evil streets after dark\n  Niggaz gettin' sparked left and outlined in chalk\n\n  New day, this whole shit's twisted is it man\n  It's me bombin' on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\n  Open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\n  Hopin' to ride in the, industry with E\n\n  The villain's had it cause ahead, word up yeah\n  Killin my psychosomatic pattern mad, yeah\n  Y'all know, uhh, yeah, muddy waters\n  We out for nine-seven, word up, peace\n"},{"id":38017614,"name":"Da Ill Out","trackName":"Da Ill Out","artistName":"Jamal, Keith Murray, Redman","albumName":"Muddy Waters","duration":215.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo Reggie, I'm out\nT-ree F Squad\nMuddy Waters\nDon't get it twisted, nigga\n\nAiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\nFuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\nRock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\nI beez that, freak of the week like I made knee deep\n\nHold up, rotate around the solar, badder than cobra\nComposure never sleeps, my stream pumps folgers\nI'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\nWithout the MSG and chopped celery\n\nSee, I made it, my flavor situated\nFrom the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\nPlus, I'm thick like quakers on papers\nBodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n\nLetterin' and the medicine, that I'm swallowin'\nGet you hollerin', like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\nIn the chest, I roll with two stacks of tecs\nAnd mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n\nMister fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\nWhen I'm blasted, my method magics get drastic\nThat you can't see with bifocals\nWatchin' MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n\nI leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\nThat's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\nI'm poppin' mad shit, plus I can back it\nYour man'll be like, yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\n\nIt ain't a test or quiz that my squad can't win\nThose who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\nY'all digest multiple stab wounds to the chest\nAnd I copycat kill the rest, with no method to my madness\n\nPlus the apparatus with the baddest\nDetermined to be the last man, standin' on the planet\nY'all get attached, like a blood-suckin' leech\nWhen you fall into my rhythm of speech\n\nYour hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\nHead get wrapped up neck get throwin' in a neck brace\nRough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\nWill ironically, chronically murder you and your crew\n\nMy directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\nSee I get to the bottom of the problem and make shit give\nStep in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\nCast to the masses grabs the mic\nTen dollar rappers is what L.O.D. goes after\n\nTo my squad, there's no matches, we bashes\nDo photo flashes on all flavor s-classes\nBomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\nTie you up, throw you in the act\nA public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n'Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up\n\nMuddy waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\nDrunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\nFuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\nPlayin' that big shit get broke down microscopic\n\nFreak it back keep the track ringin', with the bassline\nIt's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\nFace the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\nAround and round, avoidin' the time to put it down\n\nNow's the time here yeah, clown where, pick a spot\nNeutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\nGangsta, so called killin', cap peelin'\nPlayalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n\nPlay your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\nNight fall might call your life, shit is trife\nOn these evil streets after dark\nNiggaz gettin' sparked left and outlined in chalk\n\nNew day, this whole shit's twisted is it man\nIt's me bombin' on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\nOpen your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\nHopin' to ride in the, industry with E\n\nThe villain's had it cause ahead, word up yeah\nKillin my psychosomatic pattern mad, yeah\nY'all know, uhh, yeah, muddy waters\nWe out for nine-seven, word up, peace","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.29] Yo Reggie, I'm out\n[00:02.87] T-ree F Squad\n[00:04.65] Muddy Waters\n[00:08.28] Don't get it twisted, nigga\n[00:11.04] Aiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\n[00:13.72] Fuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\n[00:16.52] Rock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\n[00:19.28] I beez that, freak of the week like I made knee deep\n[00:21.97] Hold up, rotate around the solar, badder than cobra\n[00:24.74] Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps folgers\n[00:27.46] I'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\n[00:31.05] Without the MSG and chopped celery\n[00:32.94] See, I made it, my flavor situated\n[00:35.60] From the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\n[00:38.46] Plus, I'm thick like quakers on papers\n[00:41.11] Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n[00:43.97] Letterin' and the medicine, that I'm swallowin'\n[00:45.73] Get you hollerin', like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\n[00:49.38] In the chest, I roll with two stacks of tecs\n[00:51.21] And mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n[00:53.94] Mister fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\n[00:57.62] When I'm blasted, my method magics get drastic\n[01:00.31] That you can't see with bifocals\n[01:02.16] Watchin' MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n[01:04.96] I leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\n[01:08.56] That's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\n[01:10.31] I'm poppin' mad shit, plus I can back it\n[01:13.17] Your man'll be like, yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\n[01:15.82] It ain't a test or quiz that my squad can't win\n[01:17.79] Those who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\n[01:21.33] Y'all digest multiple stab wounds to the chest\n[01:23.12] And I copycat kill the rest, with no method to my madness\n[01:26.87] Plus the apparatus with the baddest\n[01:28.69] Determined to be the last man, standin' on the planet\n[01:31.40] Y'all get attached, like a blood-suckin' leech\n[01:34.11] When you fall into my rhythm of speech\n[01:36.82] Your hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\n[01:39.62] Head get wrapped up neck get throwin' in a neck brace\n[01:42.30] Rough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\n[01:45.19] Will ironically, chronically murder you and your crew\n[01:47.86] My directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\n[01:50.56] See I get to the bottom of the problem and make shit give\n[01:53.34] Step in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\n[01:55.11] Cast to the masses grabs the mic\n[01:56.07] Ten dollar rappers is what L.O.D. goes after\n[01:58.81] To my squad, there's no matches, we bashes\n[02:00.62] Do photo flashes on all flavor s-classes\n[02:03.34] Bomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\n[02:07.84] Tie you up, throw you in the act\n[02:08.81] A public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n[02:12.45] 'Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up\n[02:15.18] Muddy waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\n[02:17.94] Drunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\n[02:19.77] Fuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\n[02:22.45] Playin' that big shit get broke down microscopic\n[02:25.20] Freak it back keep the track ringin', with the bassline\n[02:27.93] It's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\n[02:30.67] Face the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\n[02:33.48] Around and round, avoidin' the time to put it down\n[02:35.25] Now's the time here yeah, clown where, pick a spot\n[02:38.06] Neutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\n[02:40.70] Gangsta, so called killin', cap peelin'\n[02:43.57] Playalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n[02:46.23] Play your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\n[02:48.90] Night fall might call your life, shit is trife\n[02:51.77] On these evil streets after dark\n[02:53.75] Niggaz gettin' sparked left and outlined in chalk\n[02:56.52] New day, this whole shit's twisted is it man\n[03:00.10] It's me bombin' on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\n[03:02.95] Open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\n[03:05.61] Hopin' to ride in the, industry with E\n[03:08.37] The villain's had it cause ahead, word up yeah\n[03:10.61] Killin my psychosomatic pattern mad, yeah\n[03:15.26] Y'all know, uhh, yeah, muddy waters\n[03:20.78] We out for nine-seven, word up, peace\n[03:28.09] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Da Ill Out\n  artist: Jamal, Keith Murray, Redman\n  album: Muddy Waters\n  duration_ms: 215000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yo Reggie, I'm out\n  start_ms: 290\n  end_ms: 2870\n- text: T-ree F Squad\n  start_ms: 2870\n  end_ms: 4650\n- text: Muddy Waters\n  start_ms: 4650\n  end_ms: 8280\n- text: Don't get it twisted, nigga\n  start_ms: 8280\n  end_ms: 11040\n- text: Aiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\n  start_ms: 11040\n  end_ms: 13720\n- text: Fuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\n  start_ms: 13720\n  end_ms: 16520\n- text: Rock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\n  start_ms: 16520\n  end_ms: 19280\n- text: I beez that, freak of the week like I made knee deep\n  start_ms: 19280\n  end_ms: 21970\n- text: Hold up, rotate around the solar, badder than cobra\n  start_ms: 21970\n  end_ms: 24740\n- text: Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps folgers\n  start_ms: 24740\n  end_ms: 27460\n- text: I'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\n  start_ms: 27460\n  end_ms: 31050\n- text: Without the MSG and chopped celery\n  start_ms: 31050\n  end_ms: 32940\n- text: See, I made it, my flavor situated\n  start_ms: 32940\n  end_ms: 35600\n- text: From the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\n  start_ms: 35600\n  end_ms: 38460\n- text: Plus, I'm thick like quakers on papers\n  start_ms: 38460\n  end_ms: 41110\n- text: Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n  start_ms: 41110\n  end_ms: 43970\n- text: Letterin' and the medicine, that I'm swallowin'\n  start_ms: 43970\n  end_ms: 45730\n- text: Get you hollerin', like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\n  start_ms: 45730\n  end_ms: 49380\n- text: In the chest, I roll with two stacks of tecs\n  start_ms: 49380\n  end_ms: 51210\n- text: And mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n  start_ms: 51210\n  end_ms: 53940\n- text: Mister fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\n  start_ms: 53940\n  end_ms: 57620\n- text: When I'm blasted, my method magics get drastic\n  start_ms: 57620\n  end_ms: 60310\n- text: That you can't see with bifocals\n  start_ms: 60310\n  end_ms: 62160\n- text: Watchin' MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n  start_ms: 62160\n  end_ms: 64960\n- text: I leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\n  start_ms: 64960\n  end_ms: 68560\n- text: That's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\n  start_ms: 68560\n  end_ms: 70310\n- text: I'm poppin' mad shit, plus I can back it\n  start_ms: 70310\n  end_ms: 73170\n- text: Your man'll be like, yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\n  start_ms: 73170\n  end_ms: 75820\n- text: It ain't a test or quiz that my squad can't win\n  start_ms: 75820\n  end_ms: 77790\n- text: Those who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\n  start_ms: 77790\n  end_ms: 81330\n- text: Y'all digest multiple stab wounds to the chest\n  start_ms: 81330\n  end_ms: 83120\n- text: And I copycat kill the rest, with no method to my madness\n  start_ms: 83120\n  end_ms: 86870\n- text: Plus the apparatus with the baddest\n  start_ms: 86870\n  end_ms: 88690\n- text: Determined to be the last man, standin' on the planet\n  start_ms: 88690\n  end_ms: 91400\n- text: Y'all get attached, like a blood-suckin' leech\n  start_ms: 91400\n  end_ms: 94110\n- text: When you fall into my rhythm of speech\n  start_ms: 94110\n  end_ms: 96820\n- text: Your hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\n  start_ms: 96820\n  end_ms: 99620\n- text: Head get wrapped up neck get throwin' in a neck brace\n  start_ms: 99620\n  end_ms: 102300\n- text: Rough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\n  start_ms: 102300\n  end_ms: 105190\n- text: Will ironically, chronically murder you and your crew\n  start_ms: 105190\n  end_ms: 107860\n- text: My directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\n  start_ms: 107860\n  end_ms: 110560\n- text: See I get to the bottom of the problem and make shit give\n  start_ms: 110560\n  end_ms: 113340\n- text: Step in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\n  start_ms: 113340\n  end_ms: 115110\n- text: Cast to the masses grabs the mic\n  start_ms: 115110\n  end_ms: 116070\n- text: Ten dollar rappers is what L.O.D. goes after\n  start_ms: 116070\n  end_ms: 118810\n- text: To my squad, there's no matches, we bashes\n  start_ms: 118810\n  end_ms: 120620\n- text: Do photo flashes on all flavor s-classes\n  start_ms: 120620\n  end_ms: 123340\n- text: Bomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\n  start_ms: 123340\n  end_ms: 127840\n- text: Tie you up, throw you in the act\n  start_ms: 127840\n  end_ms: 128810\n- text: A public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n  start_ms: 128810\n  end_ms: 132450\n- text: '''Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up'\n  start_ms: 132450\n  end_ms: 135180\n- text: Muddy waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\n  start_ms: 135180\n  end_ms: 137940\n- text: Drunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\n  start_ms: 137940\n  end_ms: 139770\n- text: Fuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\n  start_ms: 139770\n  end_ms: 142450\n- text: Playin' that big shit get broke down microscopic\n  start_ms: 142450\n  end_ms: 145200\n- text: Freak it back keep the track ringin', with the bassline\n  start_ms: 145200\n  end_ms: 147930\n- text: It's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\n  start_ms: 147930\n  end_ms: 150670\n- text: Face the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\n  start_ms: 150670\n  end_ms: 153480\n- text: Around and round, avoidin' the time to put it down\n  start_ms: 153480\n  end_ms: 155250\n- text: Now's the time here yeah, clown where, pick a spot\n  start_ms: 155250\n  end_ms: 158060\n- text: Neutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\n  start_ms: 158060\n  end_ms: 160700\n- text: Gangsta, so called killin', cap peelin'\n  start_ms: 160700\n  end_ms: 163570\n- text: Playalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n  start_ms: 163570\n  end_ms: 166230\n- text: Play your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\n  start_ms: 166230\n  end_ms: 168900\n- text: Night fall might call your life, shit is trife\n  start_ms: 168900\n  end_ms: 171770\n- text: On these evil streets after dark\n  start_ms: 171770\n  end_ms: 173750\n- text: Niggaz gettin' sparked left and outlined in chalk\n  start_ms: 173750\n  end_ms: 176520\n- text: New day, this whole shit's twisted is it man\n  start_ms: 176520\n  end_ms: 180100\n- text: It's me bombin' on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\n  start_ms: 180100\n  end_ms: 182950\n- text: Open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\n  start_ms: 182950\n  end_ms: 185610\n- text: Hopin' to ride in the, industry with E\n  start_ms: 185610\n  end_ms: 188370\n- text: The villain's had it cause ahead, word up yeah\n  start_ms: 188370\n  end_ms: 190610\n- text: Killin my psychosomatic pattern mad, yeah\n  start_ms: 190610\n  end_ms: 195260\n- text: Y'all know, uhh, yeah, muddy waters\n  start_ms: 195260\n  end_ms: 200780\n- text: We out for nine-seven, word up, peace\n  start_ms: 200780\n  end_ms: 208090\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 208090\nplain: |-\n  Yo Reggie, I'm out\n  T-ree F Squad\n  Muddy Waters\n  Don't get it twisted, nigga\n\n  Aiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\n  Fuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\n  Rock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\n  I beez that, freak of the week like I made knee deep\n\n  Hold up, rotate around the solar, badder than cobra\n  Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps folgers\n  I'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\n  Without the MSG and chopped celery\n\n  See, I made it, my flavor situated\n  From the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\n  Plus, I'm thick like quakers on papers\n  Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n\n  Letterin' and the medicine, that I'm swallowin'\n  Get you hollerin', like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\n  In the chest, I roll with two stacks of tecs\n  And mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n\n  Mister fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\n  When I'm blasted, my method magics get drastic\n  That you can't see with bifocals\n  Watchin' MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n\n  I leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\n  That's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\n  I'm poppin' mad shit, plus I can back it\n  Your man'll be like, yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\n\n  It ain't a test or quiz that my squad can't win\n  Those who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\n  Y'all digest multiple stab wounds to the chest\n  And I copycat kill the rest, with no method to my madness\n\n  Plus the apparatus with the baddest\n  Determined to be the last man, standin' on the planet\n  Y'all get attached, like a blood-suckin' leech\n  When you fall into my rhythm of speech\n\n  Your hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\n  Head get wrapped up neck get throwin' in a neck brace\n  Rough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\n  Will ironically, chronically murder you and your crew\n\n  My directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\n  See I get to the bottom of the problem and make shit give\n  Step in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\n  Cast to the masses grabs the mic\n  Ten dollar rappers is what L.O.D. goes after\n\n  To my squad, there's no matches, we bashes\n  Do photo flashes on all flavor s-classes\n  Bomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\n  Tie you up, throw you in the act\n  A public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n  'Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up\n\n  Muddy waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\n  Drunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\n  Fuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\n  Playin' that big shit get broke down microscopic\n\n  Freak it back keep the track ringin', with the bassline\n  It's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\n  Face the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\n  Around and round, avoidin' the time to put it down\n\n  Now's the time here yeah, clown where, pick a spot\n  Neutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\n  Gangsta, so called killin', cap peelin'\n  Playalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n\n  Play your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\n  Night fall might call your life, shit is trife\n  On these evil streets after dark\n  Niggaz gettin' sparked left and outlined in chalk\n\n  New day, this whole shit's twisted is it man\n  It's me bombin' on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\n  Open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\n  Hopin' to ride in the, industry with E\n\n  The villain's had it cause ahead, word up yeah\n  Killin my psychosomatic pattern mad, yeah\n  Y'all know, uhh, yeah, muddy waters\n  We out for nine-seven, word up, peace\n"},{"id":15544259,"name":"Da Ill Out Feat. Keith Murray","trackName":"Da Ill Out Feat. Keith Murray","artistName":"Redman","albumName":"Muddy Waters","duration":215.666939,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo Reggie, I'm out\nT-ree F Squad\nMuddy Waters\nDon't get it twisted, nigga\n\nAiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\nFuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\nRock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\nI beez that, freak of the week like I made knee deep\n\nHold up, rotate around the solar, badder than cobra\nComposure never sleeps, my stream pumps folgers\nI'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\nWithout the MSG and chopped celery\n\nSee, I made it, my flavor situated\nFrom the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\nPlus, I'm thick like quakers on papers\nBodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n\nLetterin' and the medicine, that I'm swallowin'\nGet you hollerin', like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\nIn the chest, I roll with two stacks of tecs\nAnd mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n\nMister fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\nWhen I'm blasted, my method magics get drastic\nThat you can't see with bifocals\nWatchin' MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n\nI leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\nThat's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\nI'm poppin' mad shit, plus I can back it\nYour man'll be like, yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\n\nIt ain't a test or quiz that my squad can't win\nThose who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\nY'all digest multiple stab wounds to the chest\nAnd I copycat kill the rest, with no method to my madness\n\nPlus the apparatus with the baddest\nDetermined to be the last man, standin' on the planet\nY'all get attached, like a blood-suckin' leech\nWhen you fall into my rhythm of speech\n\nYour hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\nHead get wrapped up neck get throwin' in a neck brace\nRough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\nWill ironically, chronically murder you and your crew\n\nMy directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\nSee I get to the bottom of the problem and make shit give\nStep in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\nCast to the masses grabs the mic\nTen dollar rappers is what L.O.D. goes after\n\nTo my squad, there's no matches, we bashes\nDo photo flashes on all flavor s-classes\nBomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\nTie you up, throw you in the act\nA public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n'Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up\n\nMuddy waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\nDrunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\nFuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\nPlayin' that big shit get broke down microscopic\n\nFreak it back keep the track ringin', with the bassline\nIt's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\nFace the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\nAround and round, avoidin' the time to put it down\n\nNow's the time here yeah, clown where, pick a spot\nNeutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\nGangsta, so called killin', cap peelin'\nPlayalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n\nPlay your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\nNight fall might call your life, shit is trife\nOn these evil streets after dark\nNiggaz gettin' sparked left and outlined in chalk\n\nNew day, this whole shit's twisted is it man\nIt's me bombin' on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\nOpen your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\nHopin' to ride in the, industry with E\n\nThe villain's had it cause ahead, word up yeah\nKillin my psychosomatic pattern mad, yeah\nY'all know, uhh, yeah, muddy waters\nWe out for nine-seven, word up, peace","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.29] Yo Reggie, I'm out\n[00:02.87] T-ree F Squad\n[00:04.65] Muddy Waters\n[00:08.28] Don't get it twisted, nigga\n[00:11.04] Aiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\n[00:13.72] Fuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\n[00:16.52] Rock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\n[00:19.28] I beez that, freak of the week like I made knee deep\n[00:21.97] Hold up, rotate around the solar, badder than cobra\n[00:24.74] Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps folgers\n[00:27.46] I'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\n[00:31.05] Without the MSG and chopped celery\n[00:32.94] See, I made it, my flavor situated\n[00:35.60] From the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\n[00:38.46] Plus, I'm thick like quakers on papers\n[00:41.11] Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n[00:43.97] Letterin' and the medicine, that I'm swallowin'\n[00:45.73] Get you hollerin', like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\n[00:49.38] In the chest, I roll with two stacks of tecs\n[00:51.21] And mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n[00:53.94] Mister fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\n[00:57.62] When I'm blasted, my method magics get drastic\n[01:00.31] That you can't see with bifocals\n[01:02.16] Watchin' MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n[01:04.96] I leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\n[01:08.56] That's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\n[01:10.31] I'm poppin' mad shit, plus I can back it\n[01:13.17] Your man'll be like, yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\n[01:15.82] It ain't a test or quiz that my squad can't win\n[01:17.79] Those who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\n[01:21.33] Y'all digest multiple stab wounds to the chest\n[01:23.12] And I copycat kill the rest, with no method to my madness\n[01:26.87] Plus the apparatus with the baddest\n[01:28.69] Determined to be the last man, standin' on the planet\n[01:31.40] Y'all get attached, like a blood-suckin' leech\n[01:34.11] When you fall into my rhythm of speech\n[01:36.82] Your hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\n[01:39.62] Head get wrapped up neck get throwin' in a neck brace\n[01:42.30] Rough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\n[01:45.19] Will ironically, chronically murder you and your crew\n[01:47.86] My directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\n[01:50.56] See I get to the bottom of the problem and make shit give\n[01:53.34] Step in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\n[01:55.11] Cast to the masses grabs the mic\n[01:56.07] Ten dollar rappers is what L.O.D. goes after\n[01:58.81] To my squad, there's no matches, we bashes\n[02:00.62] Do photo flashes on all flavor s-classes\n[02:03.34] Bomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\n[02:07.84] Tie you up, throw you in the act\n[02:08.81] A public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n[02:12.45] 'Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up\n[02:15.18] Muddy waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\n[02:17.94] Drunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\n[02:19.77] Fuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\n[02:22.45] Playin' that big shit get broke down microscopic\n[02:25.20] Freak it back keep the track ringin', with the bassline\n[02:27.93] It's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\n[02:30.67] Face the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\n[02:33.48] Around and round, avoidin' the time to put it down\n[02:35.25] Now's the time here yeah, clown where, pick a spot\n[02:38.06] Neutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\n[02:40.70] Gangsta, so called killin', cap peelin'\n[02:43.57] Playalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n[02:46.23] Play your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\n[02:48.90] Night fall might call your life, shit is trife\n[02:51.77] On these evil streets after dark\n[02:53.75] Niggaz gettin' sparked left and outlined in chalk\n[02:56.52] New day, this whole shit's twisted is it man\n[03:00.10] It's me bombin' on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\n[03:02.95] Open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\n[03:05.61] Hopin' to ride in the, industry with E\n[03:08.37] The villain's had it cause ahead, word up yeah\n[03:10.61] Killin my psychosomatic pattern mad, yeah\n[03:15.26] Y'all know, uhh, yeah, muddy waters\n[03:20.78] We out for nine-seven, word up, peace\n[03:28.09] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Da Ill Out Feat. Keith Murray\n  artist: Redman\n  album: Muddy Waters\n  duration_ms: 215667\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yo Reggie, I'm out\n  start_ms: 290\n  end_ms: 2870\n- text: T-ree F Squad\n  start_ms: 2870\n  end_ms: 4650\n- text: Muddy Waters\n  start_ms: 4650\n  end_ms: 8280\n- text: Don't get it twisted, nigga\n  start_ms: 8280\n  end_ms: 11040\n- text: Aiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\n  start_ms: 11040\n  end_ms: 13720\n- text: Fuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\n  start_ms: 13720\n  end_ms: 16520\n- text: Rock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\n  start_ms: 16520\n  end_ms: 19280\n- text: I beez that, freak of the week like I made knee deep\n  start_ms: 19280\n  end_ms: 21970\n- text: Hold up, rotate around the solar, badder than cobra\n  start_ms: 21970\n  end_ms: 24740\n- text: Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps folgers\n  start_ms: 24740\n  end_ms: 27460\n- text: I'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\n  start_ms: 27460\n  end_ms: 31050\n- text: Without the MSG and chopped celery\n  start_ms: 31050\n  end_ms: 32940\n- text: See, I made it, my flavor situated\n  start_ms: 32940\n  end_ms: 35600\n- text: From the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\n  start_ms: 35600\n  end_ms: 38460\n- text: Plus, I'm thick like quakers on papers\n  start_ms: 38460\n  end_ms: 41110\n- text: Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n  start_ms: 41110\n  end_ms: 43970\n- text: Letterin' and the medicine, that I'm swallowin'\n  start_ms: 43970\n  end_ms: 45730\n- text: Get you hollerin', like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\n  start_ms: 45730\n  end_ms: 49380\n- text: In the chest, I roll with two stacks of tecs\n  start_ms: 49380\n  end_ms: 51210\n- text: And mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n  start_ms: 51210\n  end_ms: 53940\n- text: Mister fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\n  start_ms: 53940\n  end_ms: 57620\n- text: When I'm blasted, my method magics get drastic\n  start_ms: 57620\n  end_ms: 60310\n- text: That you can't see with bifocals\n  start_ms: 60310\n  end_ms: 62160\n- text: Watchin' MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n  start_ms: 62160\n  end_ms: 64960\n- text: I leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\n  start_ms: 64960\n  end_ms: 68560\n- text: That's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\n  start_ms: 68560\n  end_ms: 70310\n- text: I'm poppin' mad shit, plus I can back it\n  start_ms: 70310\n  end_ms: 73170\n- text: Your man'll be like, yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\n  start_ms: 73170\n  end_ms: 75820\n- text: It ain't a test or quiz that my squad can't win\n  start_ms: 75820\n  end_ms: 77790\n- text: Those who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\n  start_ms: 77790\n  end_ms: 81330\n- text: Y'all digest multiple stab wounds to the chest\n  start_ms: 81330\n  end_ms: 83120\n- text: And I copycat kill the rest, with no method to my madness\n  start_ms: 83120\n  end_ms: 86870\n- text: Plus the apparatus with the baddest\n  start_ms: 86870\n  end_ms: 88690\n- text: Determined to be the last man, standin' on the planet\n  start_ms: 88690\n  end_ms: 91400\n- text: Y'all get attached, like a blood-suckin' leech\n  start_ms: 91400\n  end_ms: 94110\n- text: When you fall into my rhythm of speech\n  start_ms: 94110\n  end_ms: 96820\n- text: Your hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\n  start_ms: 96820\n  end_ms: 99620\n- text: Head get wrapped up neck get throwin' in a neck brace\n  start_ms: 99620\n  end_ms: 102300\n- text: Rough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\n  start_ms: 102300\n  end_ms: 105190\n- text: Will ironically, chronically murder you and your crew\n  start_ms: 105190\n  end_ms: 107860\n- text: My directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\n  start_ms: 107860\n  end_ms: 110560\n- text: See I get to the bottom of the problem and make shit give\n  start_ms: 110560\n  end_ms: 113340\n- text: Step in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\n  start_ms: 113340\n  end_ms: 115110\n- text: Cast to the masses grabs the mic\n  start_ms: 115110\n  end_ms: 116070\n- text: Ten dollar rappers is what L.O.D. goes after\n  start_ms: 116070\n  end_ms: 118810\n- text: To my squad, there's no matches, we bashes\n  start_ms: 118810\n  end_ms: 120620\n- text: Do photo flashes on all flavor s-classes\n  start_ms: 120620\n  end_ms: 123340\n- text: Bomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\n  start_ms: 123340\n  end_ms: 127840\n- text: Tie you up, throw you in the act\n  start_ms: 127840\n  end_ms: 128810\n- text: A public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n  start_ms: 128810\n  end_ms: 132450\n- text: '''Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up'\n  start_ms: 132450\n  end_ms: 135180\n- text: Muddy waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\n  start_ms: 135180\n  end_ms: 137940\n- text: Drunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\n  start_ms: 137940\n  end_ms: 139770\n- text: Fuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\n  start_ms: 139770\n  end_ms: 142450\n- text: Playin' that big shit get broke down microscopic\n  start_ms: 142450\n  end_ms: 145200\n- text: Freak it back keep the track ringin', with the bassline\n  start_ms: 145200\n  end_ms: 147930\n- text: It's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\n  start_ms: 147930\n  end_ms: 150670\n- text: Face the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\n  start_ms: 150670\n  end_ms: 153480\n- text: Around and round, avoidin' the time to put it down\n  start_ms: 153480\n  end_ms: 155250\n- text: Now's the time here yeah, clown where, pick a spot\n  start_ms: 155250\n  end_ms: 158060\n- text: Neutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\n  start_ms: 158060\n  end_ms: 160700\n- text: Gangsta, so called killin', cap peelin'\n  start_ms: 160700\n  end_ms: 163570\n- text: Playalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n  start_ms: 163570\n  end_ms: 166230\n- text: Play your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\n  start_ms: 166230\n  end_ms: 168900\n- text: Night fall might call your life, shit is trife\n  start_ms: 168900\n  end_ms: 171770\n- text: On these evil streets after dark\n  start_ms: 171770\n  end_ms: 173750\n- text: Niggaz gettin' sparked left and outlined in chalk\n  start_ms: 173750\n  end_ms: 176520\n- text: New day, this whole shit's twisted is it man\n  start_ms: 176520\n  end_ms: 180100\n- text: It's me bombin' on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\n  start_ms: 180100\n  end_ms: 182950\n- text: Open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\n  start_ms: 182950\n  end_ms: 185610\n- text: Hopin' to ride in the, industry with E\n  start_ms: 185610\n  end_ms: 188370\n- text: The villain's had it cause ahead, word up yeah\n  start_ms: 188370\n  end_ms: 190610\n- text: Killin my psychosomatic pattern mad, yeah\n  start_ms: 190610\n  end_ms: 195260\n- text: Y'all know, uhh, yeah, muddy waters\n  start_ms: 195260\n  end_ms: 200780\n- text: We out for nine-seven, word up, peace\n  start_ms: 200780\n  end_ms: 208090\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 208090\nplain: |-\n  Yo Reggie, I'm out\n  T-ree F Squad\n  Muddy Waters\n  Don't get it twisted, nigga\n\n  Aiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\n  Fuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\n  Rock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\n  I beez that, freak of the week like I made knee deep\n\n  Hold up, rotate around the solar, badder than cobra\n  Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps folgers\n  I'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\n  Without the MSG and chopped celery\n\n  See, I made it, my flavor situated\n  From the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\n  Plus, I'm thick like quakers on papers\n  Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n\n  Letterin' and the medicine, that I'm swallowin'\n  Get you hollerin', like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\n  In the chest, I roll with two stacks of tecs\n  And mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n\n  Mister fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\n  When I'm blasted, my method magics get drastic\n  That you can't see with bifocals\n  Watchin' MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n\n  I leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\n  That's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\n  I'm poppin' mad shit, plus I can back it\n  Your man'll be like, yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\n\n  It ain't a test or quiz that my squad can't win\n  Those who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\n  Y'all digest multiple stab wounds to the chest\n  And I copycat kill the rest, with no method to my madness\n\n  Plus the apparatus with the baddest\n  Determined to be the last man, standin' on the planet\n  Y'all get attached, like a blood-suckin' leech\n  When you fall into my rhythm of speech\n\n  Your hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\n  Head get wrapped up neck get throwin' in a neck brace\n  Rough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\n  Will ironically, chronically murder you and your crew\n\n  My directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\n  See I get to the bottom of the problem and make shit give\n  Step in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\n  Cast to the masses grabs the mic\n  Ten dollar rappers is what L.O.D. goes after\n\n  To my squad, there's no matches, we bashes\n  Do photo flashes on all flavor s-classes\n  Bomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\n  Tie you up, throw you in the act\n  A public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n  'Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up\n\n  Muddy waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\n  Drunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\n  Fuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\n  Playin' that big shit get broke down microscopic\n\n  Freak it back keep the track ringin', with the bassline\n  It's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\n  Face the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\n  Around and round, avoidin' the time to put it down\n\n  Now's the time here yeah, clown where, pick a spot\n  Neutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\n  Gangsta, so called killin', cap peelin'\n  Playalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n\n  Play your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\n  Night fall might call your life, shit is trife\n  On these evil streets after dark\n  Niggaz gettin' sparked left and outlined in chalk\n\n  New day, this whole shit's twisted is it man\n  It's me bombin' on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\n  Open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\n  Hopin' to ride in the, industry with E\n\n  The villain's had it cause ahead, word up yeah\n  Killin my psychosomatic pattern mad, yeah\n  Y'all know, uhh, yeah, muddy waters\n  We out for nine-seven, word up, peace\n"},{"id":6320704,"name":"Da Ill Out","trackName":"Da Ill Out","artistName":"Redman feat. Jamal & Keith Murray","albumName":"Muddy Waters","duration":215.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo Reggie, I'm out\nT-ree F Squad\nMuddy Waters\nDon't get it twisted, nigga\n\nAiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\nFuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\nRock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\nI beez that, freak of the week like I made knee deep\n\nHold up, rotate around the solar, badder than cobra\nComposure never sleeps, my stream pumps folgers\nI'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\nWithout the MSG and chopped celery\n\nSee, I made it, my flavor situated\nFrom the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\nPlus, I'm thick like quakers on papers\nBodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n\nLetterin' and the medicine, that I'm swallowin'\nGet you hollerin', like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\nIn the chest, I roll with two stacks of tecs\nAnd mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n\nMister fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\nWhen I'm blasted, my method magics get drastic\nThat you can't see with bifocals\nWatchin' MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n\nI leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\nThat's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\nI'm poppin' mad shit, plus I can back it\nYour man'll be like, yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\n\nIt ain't a test or quiz that my squad can't win\nThose who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\nY'all digest multiple stab wounds to the chest\nAnd I copycat kill the rest, with no method to my madness\n\nPlus the apparatus with the baddest\nDetermined to be the last man, standin' on the planet\nY'all get attached, like a blood-suckin' leech\nWhen you fall into my rhythm of speech\n\nYour hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\nHead get wrapped up neck get throwin' in a neck brace\nRough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\nWill ironically, chronically murder you and your crew\n\nMy directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\nSee I get to the bottom of the problem and make shit give\nStep in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\nCast to the masses grabs the mic\nTen dollar rappers is what L.O.D. goes after\n\nTo my squad, there's no matches, we bashes\nDo photo flashes on all flavor s-classes\nBomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\nTie you up, throw you in the act\nA public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n'Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up\n\nMuddy waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\nDrunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\nFuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\nPlayin' that big shit get broke down microscopic\n\nFreak it back keep the track ringin', with the bassline\nIt's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\nFace the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\nAround and round, avoidin' the time to put it down\n\nNow's the time here yeah, clown where, pick a spot\nNeutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\nGangsta, so called killin', cap peelin'\nPlayalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n\nPlay your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\nNight fall might call your life, shit is trife\nOn these evil streets after dark\nNiggaz gettin' sparked left and outlined in chalk\n\nNew day, this whole shit's twisted is it man\nIt's me bombin' on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\nOpen your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\nHopin' to ride in the, industry with E\n\nThe villain's had it cause ahead, word up yeah\nKillin my psychosomatic pattern mad, yeah\nY'all know, uhh, yeah, muddy waters\nWe out for nine-seven, word up, peace","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.29] Yo Reggie, I'm out\n[00:02.87] T-ree F Squad\n[00:04.65] Muddy Waters\n[00:08.28] Don't get it twisted, nigga\n[00:11.04] Aiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\n[00:13.72] Fuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\n[00:16.52] Rock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\n[00:19.28] I beez that, freak of the week like I made knee deep\n[00:21.97] Hold up, rotate around the solar, badder than cobra\n[00:24.74] Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps folgers\n[00:27.46] I'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\n[00:31.05] Without the MSG and chopped celery\n[00:32.94] See, I made it, my flavor situated\n[00:35.60] From the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\n[00:38.46] Plus, I'm thick like quakers on papers\n[00:41.11] Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n[00:43.97] Letterin' and the medicine, that I'm swallowin'\n[00:45.73] Get you hollerin', like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\n[00:49.38] In the chest, I roll with two stacks of tecs\n[00:51.21] And mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n[00:53.94] Mister fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\n[00:57.62] When I'm blasted, my method magics get drastic\n[01:00.31] That you can't see with bifocals\n[01:02.16] Watchin' MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n[01:04.96] I leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\n[01:08.56] That's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\n[01:10.31] I'm poppin' mad shit, plus I can back it\n[01:13.17] Your man'll be like, yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\n[01:15.82] It ain't a test or quiz that my squad can't win\n[01:17.79] Those who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\n[01:21.33] Y'all digest multiple stab wounds to the chest\n[01:23.12] And I copycat kill the rest, with no method to my madness\n[01:26.87] Plus the apparatus with the baddest\n[01:28.69] Determined to be the last man, standin' on the planet\n[01:31.40] Y'all get attached, like a blood-suckin' leech\n[01:34.11] When you fall into my rhythm of speech\n[01:36.82] Your hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\n[01:39.62] Head get wrapped up neck get throwin' in a neck brace\n[01:42.30] Rough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\n[01:45.19] Will ironically, chronically murder you and your crew\n[01:47.86] My directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\n[01:50.56] See I get to the bottom of the problem and make shit give\n[01:53.34] Step in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\n[01:55.11] Cast to the masses grabs the mic\n[01:56.07] Ten dollar rappers is what L.O.D. goes after\n[01:58.81] To my squad, there's no matches, we bashes\n[02:00.62] Do photo flashes on all flavor s-classes\n[02:03.34] Bomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\n[02:07.84] Tie you up, throw you in the act\n[02:08.81] A public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n[02:12.45] 'Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up\n[02:15.18] Muddy waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\n[02:17.94] Drunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\n[02:19.77] Fuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\n[02:22.45] Playin' that big shit get broke down microscopic\n[02:25.20] Freak it back keep the track ringin', with the bassline\n[02:27.93] It's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\n[02:30.67] Face the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\n[02:33.48] Around and round, avoidin' the time to put it down\n[02:35.25] Now's the time here yeah, clown where, pick a spot\n[02:38.06] Neutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\n[02:40.70] Gangsta, so called killin', cap peelin'\n[02:43.57] Playalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n[02:46.23] Play your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\n[02:48.90] Night fall might call your life, shit is trife\n[02:51.77] On these evil streets after dark\n[02:53.75] Niggaz gettin' sparked left and outlined in chalk\n[02:56.52] New day, this whole shit's twisted is it man\n[03:00.10] It's me bombin' on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\n[03:02.95] Open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\n[03:05.61] Hopin' to ride in the, industry with E\n[03:08.37] The villain's had it cause ahead, word up yeah\n[03:10.61] Killin my psychosomatic pattern mad, yeah\n[03:15.26] Y'all know, uhh, yeah, muddy waters\n[03:20.78] We out for nine-seven, word up, peace\n[03:28.09] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Da Ill Out\n  artist: Redman feat. Jamal & Keith Murray\n  album: Muddy Waters\n  duration_ms: 215000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yo Reggie, I'm out\n  start_ms: 290\n  end_ms: 2870\n- text: T-ree F Squad\n  start_ms: 2870\n  end_ms: 4650\n- text: Muddy Waters\n  start_ms: 4650\n  end_ms: 8280\n- text: Don't get it twisted, nigga\n  start_ms: 8280\n  end_ms: 11040\n- text: Aiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\n  start_ms: 11040\n  end_ms: 13720\n- text: Fuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\n  start_ms: 13720\n  end_ms: 16520\n- text: Rock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\n  start_ms: 16520\n  end_ms: 19280\n- text: I beez that, freak of the week like I made knee deep\n  start_ms: 19280\n  end_ms: 21970\n- text: Hold up, rotate around the solar, badder than cobra\n  start_ms: 21970\n  end_ms: 24740\n- text: Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps folgers\n  start_ms: 24740\n  end_ms: 27460\n- text: I'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\n  start_ms: 27460\n  end_ms: 31050\n- text: Without the MSG and chopped celery\n  start_ms: 31050\n  end_ms: 32940\n- text: See, I made it, my flavor situated\n  start_ms: 32940\n  end_ms: 35600\n- text: From the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\n  start_ms: 35600\n  end_ms: 38460\n- text: Plus, I'm thick like quakers on papers\n  start_ms: 38460\n  end_ms: 41110\n- text: Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n  start_ms: 41110\n  end_ms: 43970\n- text: Letterin' and the medicine, that I'm swallowin'\n  start_ms: 43970\n  end_ms: 45730\n- text: Get you hollerin', like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\n  start_ms: 45730\n  end_ms: 49380\n- text: In the chest, I roll with two stacks of tecs\n  start_ms: 49380\n  end_ms: 51210\n- text: And mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n  start_ms: 51210\n  end_ms: 53940\n- text: Mister fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\n  start_ms: 53940\n  end_ms: 57620\n- text: When I'm blasted, my method magics get drastic\n  start_ms: 57620\n  end_ms: 60310\n- text: That you can't see with bifocals\n  start_ms: 60310\n  end_ms: 62160\n- text: Watchin' MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n  start_ms: 62160\n  end_ms: 64960\n- text: I leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\n  start_ms: 64960\n  end_ms: 68560\n- text: That's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\n  start_ms: 68560\n  end_ms: 70310\n- text: I'm poppin' mad shit, plus I can back it\n  start_ms: 70310\n  end_ms: 73170\n- text: Your man'll be like, yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\n  start_ms: 73170\n  end_ms: 75820\n- text: It ain't a test or quiz that my squad can't win\n  start_ms: 75820\n  end_ms: 77790\n- text: Those who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\n  start_ms: 77790\n  end_ms: 81330\n- text: Y'all digest multiple stab wounds to the chest\n  start_ms: 81330\n  end_ms: 83120\n- text: And I copycat kill the rest, with no method to my madness\n  start_ms: 83120\n  end_ms: 86870\n- text: Plus the apparatus with the baddest\n  start_ms: 86870\n  end_ms: 88690\n- text: Determined to be the last man, standin' on the planet\n  start_ms: 88690\n  end_ms: 91400\n- text: Y'all get attached, like a blood-suckin' leech\n  start_ms: 91400\n  end_ms: 94110\n- text: When you fall into my rhythm of speech\n  start_ms: 94110\n  end_ms: 96820\n- text: Your hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\n  start_ms: 96820\n  end_ms: 99620\n- text: Head get wrapped up neck get throwin' in a neck brace\n  start_ms: 99620\n  end_ms: 102300\n- text: Rough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\n  start_ms: 102300\n  end_ms: 105190\n- text: Will ironically, chronically murder you and your crew\n  start_ms: 105190\n  end_ms: 107860\n- text: My directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\n  start_ms: 107860\n  end_ms: 110560\n- text: See I get to the bottom of the problem and make shit give\n  start_ms: 110560\n  end_ms: 113340\n- text: Step in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\n  start_ms: 113340\n  end_ms: 115110\n- text: Cast to the masses grabs the mic\n  start_ms: 115110\n  end_ms: 116070\n- text: Ten dollar rappers is what L.O.D. goes after\n  start_ms: 116070\n  end_ms: 118810\n- text: To my squad, there's no matches, we bashes\n  start_ms: 118810\n  end_ms: 120620\n- text: Do photo flashes on all flavor s-classes\n  start_ms: 120620\n  end_ms: 123340\n- text: Bomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\n  start_ms: 123340\n  end_ms: 127840\n- text: Tie you up, throw you in the act\n  start_ms: 127840\n  end_ms: 128810\n- text: A public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n  start_ms: 128810\n  end_ms: 132450\n- text: '''Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up'\n  start_ms: 132450\n  end_ms: 135180\n- text: Muddy waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\n  start_ms: 135180\n  end_ms: 137940\n- text: Drunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\n  start_ms: 137940\n  end_ms: 139770\n- text: Fuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\n  start_ms: 139770\n  end_ms: 142450\n- text: Playin' that big shit get broke down microscopic\n  start_ms: 142450\n  end_ms: 145200\n- text: Freak it back keep the track ringin', with the bassline\n  start_ms: 145200\n  end_ms: 147930\n- text: It's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\n  start_ms: 147930\n  end_ms: 150670\n- text: Face the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\n  start_ms: 150670\n  end_ms: 153480\n- text: Around and round, avoidin' the time to put it down\n  start_ms: 153480\n  end_ms: 155250\n- text: Now's the time here yeah, clown where, pick a spot\n  start_ms: 155250\n  end_ms: 158060\n- text: Neutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\n  start_ms: 158060\n  end_ms: 160700\n- text: Gangsta, so called killin', cap peelin'\n  start_ms: 160700\n  end_ms: 163570\n- text: Playalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n  start_ms: 163570\n  end_ms: 166230\n- text: Play your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\n  start_ms: 166230\n  end_ms: 168900\n- text: Night fall might call your life, shit is trife\n  start_ms: 168900\n  end_ms: 171770\n- text: On these evil streets after dark\n  start_ms: 171770\n  end_ms: 173750\n- text: Niggaz gettin' sparked left and outlined in chalk\n  start_ms: 173750\n  end_ms: 176520\n- text: New day, this whole shit's twisted is it man\n  start_ms: 176520\n  end_ms: 180100\n- text: It's me bombin' on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\n  start_ms: 180100\n  end_ms: 182950\n- text: Open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\n  start_ms: 182950\n  end_ms: 185610\n- text: Hopin' to ride in the, industry with E\n  start_ms: 185610\n  end_ms: 188370\n- text: The villain's had it cause ahead, word up yeah\n  start_ms: 188370\n  end_ms: 190610\n- text: Killin my psychosomatic pattern mad, yeah\n  start_ms: 190610\n  end_ms: 195260\n- text: Y'all know, uhh, yeah, muddy waters\n  start_ms: 195260\n  end_ms: 200780\n- text: We out for nine-seven, word up, peace\n  start_ms: 200780\n  end_ms: 208090\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 208090\nplain: |-\n  Yo Reggie, I'm out\n  T-ree F Squad\n  Muddy Waters\n  Don't get it twisted, nigga\n\n  Aiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\n  Fuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\n  Rock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\n  I beez that, freak of the week like I made knee deep\n\n  Hold up, rotate around the solar, badder than cobra\n  Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps folgers\n  I'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\n  Without the MSG and chopped celery\n\n  See, I made it, my flavor situated\n  From the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\n  Plus, I'm thick like quakers on papers\n  Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n\n  Letterin' and the medicine, that I'm swallowin'\n  Get you hollerin', like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\n  In the chest, I roll with two stacks of tecs\n  And mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n\n  Mister fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\n  When I'm blasted, my method magics get drastic\n  That you can't see with bifocals\n  Watchin' MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n\n  I leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\n  That's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\n  I'm poppin' mad shit, plus I can back it\n  Your man'll be like, yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\n\n  It ain't a test or quiz that my squad can't win\n  Those who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\n  Y'all digest multiple stab wounds to the chest\n  And I copycat kill the rest, with no method to my madness\n\n  Plus the apparatus with the baddest\n  Determined to be the last man, standin' on the planet\n  Y'all get attached, like a blood-suckin' leech\n  When you fall into my rhythm of speech\n\n  Your hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\n  Head get wrapped up neck get throwin' in a neck brace\n  Rough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\n  Will ironically, chronically murder you and your crew\n\n  My directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\n  See I get to the bottom of the problem and make shit give\n  Step in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\n  Cast to the masses grabs the mic\n  Ten dollar rappers is what L.O.D. goes after\n\n  To my squad, there's no matches, we bashes\n  Do photo flashes on all flavor s-classes\n  Bomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\n  Tie you up, throw you in the act\n  A public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n  'Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up\n\n  Muddy waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\n  Drunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\n  Fuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\n  Playin' that big shit get broke down microscopic\n\n  Freak it back keep the track ringin', with the bassline\n  It's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\n  Face the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\n  Around and round, avoidin' the time to put it down\n\n  Now's the time here yeah, clown where, pick a spot\n  Neutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\n  Gangsta, so called killin', cap peelin'\n  Playalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n\n  Play your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\n  Night fall might call your life, shit is trife\n  On these evil streets after dark\n  Niggaz gettin' sparked left and outlined in chalk\n\n  New day, this whole shit's twisted is it man\n  It's me bombin' on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\n  Open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\n  Hopin' to ride in the, industry with E\n\n  The villain's had it cause ahead, word up yeah\n  Killin my psychosomatic pattern mad, yeah\n  Y'all know, uhh, yeah, muddy waters\n  We out for nine-seven, word up, peace\n"},{"id":10678106,"name":"Da Ill Out","trackName":"Da Ill Out","artistName":"Redman Feat. Keith Murray & Jamal","albumName":"Muddy Waters","duration":216.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo Reggie, I'm out\nT-ree F Squad\nMuddy Waters\nDon't get it twisted, nigga\n\nAiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\nFuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\nRock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\nI beez that, freak of the week like I made knee deep\n\nHold up, rotate around the solar, badder than cobra\nComposure never sleeps, my stream pumps folgers\nI'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\nWithout the MSG and chopped celery\n\nSee, I made it, my flavor situated\nFrom the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\nPlus, I'm thick like quakers on papers\nBodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n\nLetterin' and the medicine, that I'm swallowin'\nGet you hollerin', like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\nIn the chest, I roll with two stacks of tecs\nAnd mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n\nMister fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\nWhen I'm blasted, my method magics get drastic\nThat you can't see with bifocals\nWatchin' MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n\nI leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\nThat's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\nI'm poppin' mad shit, plus I can back it\nYour man'll be like, yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\n\nIt ain't a test or quiz that my squad can't win\nThose who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\nY'all digest multiple stab wounds to the chest\nAnd I copycat kill the rest, with no method to my madness\n\nPlus the apparatus with the baddest\nDetermined to be the last man, standin' on the planet\nY'all get attached, like a blood-suckin' leech\nWhen you fall into my rhythm of speech\n\nYour hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\nHead get wrapped up neck get throwin' in a neck brace\nRough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\nWill ironically, chronically murder you and your crew\n\nMy directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\nSee I get to the bottom of the problem and make shit give\nStep in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\nCast to the masses grabs the mic\nTen dollar rappers is what L.O.D. goes after\n\nTo my squad, there's no matches, we bashes\nDo photo flashes on all flavor s-classes\nBomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\nTie you up, throw you in the act\nA public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n'Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up\n\nMuddy waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\nDrunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\nFuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\nPlayin' that big shit get broke down microscopic\n\nFreak it back keep the track ringin', with the bassline\nIt's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\nFace the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\nAround and round, avoidin' the time to put it down\n\nNow's the time here yeah, clown where, pick a spot\nNeutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\nGangsta, so called killin', cap peelin'\nPlayalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n\nPlay your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\nNight fall might call your life, shit is trife\nOn these evil streets after dark\nNiggaz gettin' sparked left and outlined in chalk\n\nNew day, this whole shit's twisted is it man\nIt's me bombin' on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\nOpen your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\nHopin' to ride in the, industry with E\n\nThe villain's had it cause ahead, word up yeah\nKillin my psychosomatic pattern mad, yeah\nY'all know, uhh, yeah, muddy waters\nWe out for nine-seven, word up, peace","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.29] Yo Reggie, I'm out\n[00:02.87] T-ree F Squad\n[00:04.65] Muddy Waters\n[00:08.28] Don't get it twisted, nigga\n[00:11.04] Aiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\n[00:13.72] Fuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\n[00:16.52] Rock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\n[00:19.28] I beez that, freak of the week like I made knee deep\n[00:21.97] Hold up, rotate around the solar, badder than cobra\n[00:24.74] Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps folgers\n[00:27.46] I'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\n[00:31.05] Without the MSG and chopped celery\n[00:32.94] See, I made it, my flavor situated\n[00:35.60] From the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\n[00:38.46] Plus, I'm thick like quakers on papers\n[00:41.11] Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n[00:43.97] Letterin' and the medicine, that I'm swallowin'\n[00:45.73] Get you hollerin', like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\n[00:49.38] In the chest, I roll with two stacks of tecs\n[00:51.21] And mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n[00:53.94] Mister fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\n[00:57.62] When I'm blasted, my method magics get drastic\n[01:00.31] That you can't see with bifocals\n[01:02.16] Watchin' MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n[01:04.96] I leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\n[01:08.56] That's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\n[01:10.31] I'm poppin' mad shit, plus I can back it\n[01:13.17] Your man'll be like, yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\n[01:15.82] It ain't a test or quiz that my squad can't win\n[01:17.79] Those who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\n[01:21.33] Y'all digest multiple stab wounds to the chest\n[01:23.12] And I copycat kill the rest, with no method to my madness\n[01:26.87] Plus the apparatus with the baddest\n[01:28.69] Determined to be the last man, standin' on the planet\n[01:31.40] Y'all get attached, like a blood-suckin' leech\n[01:34.11] When you fall into my rhythm of speech\n[01:36.82] Your hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\n[01:39.62] Head get wrapped up neck get throwin' in a neck brace\n[01:42.30] Rough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\n[01:45.19] Will ironically, chronically murder you and your crew\n[01:47.86] My directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\n[01:50.56] See I get to the bottom of the problem and make shit give\n[01:53.34] Step in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\n[01:55.11] Cast to the masses grabs the mic\n[01:56.07] Ten dollar rappers is what L.O.D. goes after\n[01:58.81] To my squad, there's no matches, we bashes\n[02:00.62] Do photo flashes on all flavor s-classes\n[02:03.34] Bomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\n[02:07.84] Tie you up, throw you in the act\n[02:08.81] A public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n[02:12.45] 'Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up\n[02:15.18] Muddy waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\n[02:17.94] Drunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\n[02:19.77] Fuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\n[02:22.45] Playin' that big shit get broke down microscopic\n[02:25.20] Freak it back keep the track ringin', with the bassline\n[02:27.93] It's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\n[02:30.67] Face the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\n[02:33.48] Around and round, avoidin' the time to put it down\n[02:35.25] Now's the time here yeah, clown where, pick a spot\n[02:38.06] Neutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\n[02:40.70] Gangsta, so called killin', cap peelin'\n[02:43.57] Playalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n[02:46.23] Play your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\n[02:48.90] Night fall might call your life, shit is trife\n[02:51.77] On these evil streets after dark\n[02:53.75] Niggaz gettin' sparked left and outlined in chalk\n[02:56.52] New day, this whole shit's twisted is it man\n[03:00.10] It's me bombin' on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\n[03:02.95] Open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\n[03:05.61] Hopin' to ride in the, industry with E\n[03:08.37] The villain's had it cause ahead, word up yeah\n[03:10.61] Killin my psychosomatic pattern mad, yeah\n[03:15.26] Y'all know, uhh, yeah, muddy waters\n[03:20.78] We out for nine-seven, word up, peace\n[03:28.09] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Da Ill Out\n  artist: Redman Feat. Keith Murray & Jamal\n  album: Muddy Waters\n  duration_ms: 216000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yo Reggie, I'm out\n  start_ms: 290\n  end_ms: 2870\n- text: T-ree F Squad\n  start_ms: 2870\n  end_ms: 4650\n- text: Muddy Waters\n  start_ms: 4650\n  end_ms: 8280\n- text: Don't get it twisted, nigga\n  start_ms: 8280\n  end_ms: 11040\n- text: Aiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\n  start_ms: 11040\n  end_ms: 13720\n- text: Fuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\n  start_ms: 13720\n  end_ms: 16520\n- text: Rock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\n  start_ms: 16520\n  end_ms: 19280\n- text: I beez that, freak of the week like I made knee deep\n  start_ms: 19280\n  end_ms: 21970\n- text: Hold up, rotate around the solar, badder than cobra\n  start_ms: 21970\n  end_ms: 24740\n- text: Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps folgers\n  start_ms: 24740\n  end_ms: 27460\n- text: I'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\n  start_ms: 27460\n  end_ms: 31050\n- text: Without the MSG and chopped celery\n  start_ms: 31050\n  end_ms: 32940\n- text: See, I made it, my flavor situated\n  start_ms: 32940\n  end_ms: 35600\n- text: From the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\n  start_ms: 35600\n  end_ms: 38460\n- text: Plus, I'm thick like quakers on papers\n  start_ms: 38460\n  end_ms: 41110\n- text: Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n  start_ms: 41110\n  end_ms: 43970\n- text: Letterin' and the medicine, that I'm swallowin'\n  start_ms: 43970\n  end_ms: 45730\n- text: Get you hollerin', like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\n  start_ms: 45730\n  end_ms: 49380\n- text: In the chest, I roll with two stacks of tecs\n  start_ms: 49380\n  end_ms: 51210\n- text: And mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n  start_ms: 51210\n  end_ms: 53940\n- text: Mister fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\n  start_ms: 53940\n  end_ms: 57620\n- text: When I'm blasted, my method magics get drastic\n  start_ms: 57620\n  end_ms: 60310\n- text: That you can't see with bifocals\n  start_ms: 60310\n  end_ms: 62160\n- text: Watchin' MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n  start_ms: 62160\n  end_ms: 64960\n- text: I leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\n  start_ms: 64960\n  end_ms: 68560\n- text: That's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\n  start_ms: 68560\n  end_ms: 70310\n- text: I'm poppin' mad shit, plus I can back it\n  start_ms: 70310\n  end_ms: 73170\n- text: Your man'll be like, yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\n  start_ms: 73170\n  end_ms: 75820\n- text: It ain't a test or quiz that my squad can't win\n  start_ms: 75820\n  end_ms: 77790\n- text: Those who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\n  start_ms: 77790\n  end_ms: 81330\n- text: Y'all digest multiple stab wounds to the chest\n  start_ms: 81330\n  end_ms: 83120\n- text: And I copycat kill the rest, with no method to my madness\n  start_ms: 83120\n  end_ms: 86870\n- text: Plus the apparatus with the baddest\n  start_ms: 86870\n  end_ms: 88690\n- text: Determined to be the last man, standin' on the planet\n  start_ms: 88690\n  end_ms: 91400\n- text: Y'all get attached, like a blood-suckin' leech\n  start_ms: 91400\n  end_ms: 94110\n- text: When you fall into my rhythm of speech\n  start_ms: 94110\n  end_ms: 96820\n- text: Your hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\n  start_ms: 96820\n  end_ms: 99620\n- text: Head get wrapped up neck get throwin' in a neck brace\n  start_ms: 99620\n  end_ms: 102300\n- text: Rough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\n  start_ms: 102300\n  end_ms: 105190\n- text: Will ironically, chronically murder you and your crew\n  start_ms: 105190\n  end_ms: 107860\n- text: My directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\n  start_ms: 107860\n  end_ms: 110560\n- text: See I get to the bottom of the problem and make shit give\n  start_ms: 110560\n  end_ms: 113340\n- text: Step in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\n  start_ms: 113340\n  end_ms: 115110\n- text: Cast to the masses grabs the mic\n  start_ms: 115110\n  end_ms: 116070\n- text: Ten dollar rappers is what L.O.D. goes after\n  start_ms: 116070\n  end_ms: 118810\n- text: To my squad, there's no matches, we bashes\n  start_ms: 118810\n  end_ms: 120620\n- text: Do photo flashes on all flavor s-classes\n  start_ms: 120620\n  end_ms: 123340\n- text: Bomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\n  start_ms: 123340\n  end_ms: 127840\n- text: Tie you up, throw you in the act\n  start_ms: 127840\n  end_ms: 128810\n- text: A public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n  start_ms: 128810\n  end_ms: 132450\n- text: '''Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up'\n  start_ms: 132450\n  end_ms: 135180\n- text: Muddy waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\n  start_ms: 135180\n  end_ms: 137940\n- text: Drunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\n  start_ms: 137940\n  end_ms: 139770\n- text: Fuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\n  start_ms: 139770\n  end_ms: 142450\n- text: Playin' that big shit get broke down microscopic\n  start_ms: 142450\n  end_ms: 145200\n- text: Freak it back keep the track ringin', with the bassline\n  start_ms: 145200\n  end_ms: 147930\n- text: It's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\n  start_ms: 147930\n  end_ms: 150670\n- text: Face the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\n  start_ms: 150670\n  end_ms: 153480\n- text: Around and round, avoidin' the time to put it down\n  start_ms: 153480\n  end_ms: 155250\n- text: Now's the time here yeah, clown where, pick a spot\n  start_ms: 155250\n  end_ms: 158060\n- text: Neutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\n  start_ms: 158060\n  end_ms: 160700\n- text: Gangsta, so called killin', cap peelin'\n  start_ms: 160700\n  end_ms: 163570\n- text: Playalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n  start_ms: 163570\n  end_ms: 166230\n- text: Play your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\n  start_ms: 166230\n  end_ms: 168900\n- text: Night fall might call your life, shit is trife\n  start_ms: 168900\n  end_ms: 171770\n- text: On these evil streets after dark\n  start_ms: 171770\n  end_ms: 173750\n- text: Niggaz gettin' sparked left and outlined in chalk\n  start_ms: 173750\n  end_ms: 176520\n- text: New day, this whole shit's twisted is it man\n  start_ms: 176520\n  end_ms: 180100\n- text: It's me bombin' on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\n  start_ms: 180100\n  end_ms: 182950\n- text: Open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\n  start_ms: 182950\n  end_ms: 185610\n- text: Hopin' to ride in the, industry with E\n  start_ms: 185610\n  end_ms: 188370\n- text: The villain's had it cause ahead, word up yeah\n  start_ms: 188370\n  end_ms: 190610\n- text: Killin my psychosomatic pattern mad, yeah\n  start_ms: 190610\n  end_ms: 195260\n- text: Y'all know, uhh, yeah, muddy waters\n  start_ms: 195260\n  end_ms: 200780\n- text: We out for nine-seven, word up, peace\n  start_ms: 200780\n  end_ms: 208090\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 208090\nplain: |-\n  Yo Reggie, I'm out\n  T-ree F Squad\n  Muddy Waters\n  Don't get it twisted, nigga\n\n  Aiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\n  Fuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\n  Rock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\n  I beez that, freak of the week like I made knee deep\n\n  Hold up, rotate around the solar, badder than cobra\n  Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps folgers\n  I'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\n  Without the MSG and chopped celery\n\n  See, I made it, my flavor situated\n  From the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\n  Plus, I'm thick like quakers on papers\n  Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n\n  Letterin' and the medicine, that I'm swallowin'\n  Get you hollerin', like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\n  In the chest, I roll with two stacks of tecs\n  And mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n\n  Mister fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\n  When I'm blasted, my method magics get drastic\n  That you can't see with bifocals\n  Watchin' MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n\n  I leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\n  That's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\n  I'm poppin' mad shit, plus I can back it\n  Your man'll be like, yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\n\n  It ain't a test or quiz that my squad can't win\n  Those who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\n  Y'all digest multiple stab wounds to the chest\n  And I copycat kill the rest, with no method to my madness\n\n  Plus the apparatus with the baddest\n  Determined to be the last man, standin' on the planet\n  Y'all get attached, like a blood-suckin' leech\n  When you fall into my rhythm of speech\n\n  Your hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\n  Head get wrapped up neck get throwin' in a neck brace\n  Rough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\n  Will ironically, chronically murder you and your crew\n\n  My directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\n  See I get to the bottom of the problem and make shit give\n  Step in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\n  Cast to the masses grabs the mic\n  Ten dollar rappers is what L.O.D. goes after\n\n  To my squad, there's no matches, we bashes\n  Do photo flashes on all flavor s-classes\n  Bomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\n  Tie you up, throw you in the act\n  A public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n  'Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up\n\n  Muddy waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\n  Drunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\n  Fuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\n  Playin' that big shit get broke down microscopic\n\n  Freak it back keep the track ringin', with the bassline\n  It's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\n  Face the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\n  Around and round, avoidin' the time to put it down\n\n  Now's the time here yeah, clown where, pick a spot\n  Neutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\n  Gangsta, so called killin', cap peelin'\n  Playalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n\n  Play your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\n  Night fall might call your life, shit is trife\n  On these evil streets after dark\n  Niggaz gettin' sparked left and outlined in chalk\n\n  New day, this whole shit's twisted is it man\n  It's me bombin' on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\n  Open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\n  Hopin' to ride in the, industry with E\n\n  The villain's had it cause ahead, word up yeah\n  Killin my psychosomatic pattern mad, yeah\n  Y'all know, uhh, yeah, muddy waters\n  We out for nine-seven, word up, peace\n"},{"id":6320705,"name":"Da Ill Out (feat. Jamal & Keith Murray)","trackName":"Da Ill Out (feat. Jamal & Keith Murray)","artistName":"Redman","albumName":"Muddy Waters","duration":215.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo Reggie, I'm out\nT-ree F Squad\nMuddy Waters\nDon't get it twisted, nigga\n\nAiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\nFuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\nRock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\nI beez that, freak of the week like I made knee deep\n\nHold up, rotate around the solar, badder than cobra\nComposure never sleeps, my stream pumps folgers\nI'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\nWithout the MSG and chopped celery\n\nSee, I made it, my flavor situated\nFrom the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\nPlus, I'm thick like quakers on papers\nBodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n\nLetterin' and the medicine, that I'm swallowin'\nGet you hollerin', like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\nIn the chest, I roll with two stacks of tecs\nAnd mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n\nMister fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\nWhen I'm blasted, my method magics get drastic\nThat you can't see with bifocals\nWatchin' MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n\nI leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\nThat's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\nI'm poppin' mad shit, plus I can back it\nYour man'll be like, yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\n\nIt ain't a test or quiz that my squad can't win\nThose who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\nY'all digest multiple stab wounds to the chest\nAnd I copycat kill the rest, with no method to my madness\n\nPlus the apparatus with the baddest\nDetermined to be the last man, standin' on the planet\nY'all get attached, like a blood-suckin' leech\nWhen you fall into my rhythm of speech\n\nYour hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\nHead get wrapped up neck get throwin' in a neck brace\nRough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\nWill ironically, chronically murder you and your crew\n\nMy directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\nSee I get to the bottom of the problem and make shit give\nStep in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\nCast to the masses grabs the mic\nTen dollar rappers is what L.O.D. goes after\n\nTo my squad, there's no matches, we bashes\nDo photo flashes on all flavor s-classes\nBomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\nTie you up, throw you in the act\nA public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n'Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up\n\nMuddy waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\nDrunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\nFuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\nPlayin' that big shit get broke down microscopic\n\nFreak it back keep the track ringin', with the bassline\nIt's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\nFace the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\nAround and round, avoidin' the time to put it down\n\nNow's the time here yeah, clown where, pick a spot\nNeutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\nGangsta, so called killin', cap peelin'\nPlayalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n\nPlay your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\nNight fall might call your life, shit is trife\nOn these evil streets after dark\nNiggaz gettin' sparked left and outlined in chalk\n\nNew day, this whole shit's twisted is it man\nIt's me bombin' on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\nOpen your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\nHopin' to ride in the, industry with E\n\nThe villain's had it cause ahead, word up yeah\nKillin my psychosomatic pattern mad, yeah\nY'all know, uhh, yeah, muddy waters\nWe out for nine-seven, word up, peace","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.29] Yo Reggie, I'm out\n[00:02.87] T-ree F Squad\n[00:04.65] Muddy Waters\n[00:08.28] Don't get it twisted, nigga\n[00:11.04] Aiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\n[00:13.72] Fuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\n[00:16.52] Rock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\n[00:19.28] I beez that, freak of the week like I made knee deep\n[00:21.97] Hold up, rotate around the solar, badder than cobra\n[00:24.74] Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps folgers\n[00:27.46] I'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\n[00:31.05] Without the MSG and chopped celery\n[00:32.94] See, I made it, my flavor situated\n[00:35.60] From the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\n[00:38.46] Plus, I'm thick like quakers on papers\n[00:41.11] Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n[00:43.97] Letterin' and the medicine, that I'm swallowin'\n[00:45.73] Get you hollerin', like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\n[00:49.38] In the chest, I roll with two stacks of tecs\n[00:51.21] And mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n[00:53.94] Mister fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\n[00:57.62] When I'm blasted, my method magics get drastic\n[01:00.31] That you can't see with bifocals\n[01:02.16] Watchin' MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n[01:04.96] I leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\n[01:08.56] That's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\n[01:10.31] I'm poppin' mad shit, plus I can back it\n[01:13.17] Your man'll be like, yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\n[01:15.82] It ain't a test or quiz that my squad can't win\n[01:17.79] Those who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\n[01:21.33] Y'all digest multiple stab wounds to the chest\n[01:23.12] And I copycat kill the rest, with no method to my madness\n[01:26.87] Plus the apparatus with the baddest\n[01:28.69] Determined to be the last man, standin' on the planet\n[01:31.40] Y'all get attached, like a blood-suckin' leech\n[01:34.11] When you fall into my rhythm of speech\n[01:36.82] Your hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\n[01:39.62] Head get wrapped up neck get throwin' in a neck brace\n[01:42.30] Rough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\n[01:45.19] Will ironically, chronically murder you and your crew\n[01:47.86] My directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\n[01:50.56] See I get to the bottom of the problem and make shit give\n[01:53.34] Step in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\n[01:55.11] Cast to the masses grabs the mic\n[01:56.07] Ten dollar rappers is what L.O.D. goes after\n[01:58.81] To my squad, there's no matches, we bashes\n[02:00.62] Do photo flashes on all flavor s-classes\n[02:03.34] Bomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\n[02:07.84] Tie you up, throw you in the act\n[02:08.81] A public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n[02:12.45] 'Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up\n[02:15.18] Muddy waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\n[02:17.94] Drunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\n[02:19.77] Fuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\n[02:22.45] Playin' that big shit get broke down microscopic\n[02:25.20] Freak it back keep the track ringin', with the bassline\n[02:27.93] It's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\n[02:30.67] Face the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\n[02:33.48] Around and round, avoidin' the time to put it down\n[02:35.25] Now's the time here yeah, clown where, pick a spot\n[02:38.06] Neutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\n[02:40.70] Gangsta, so called killin', cap peelin'\n[02:43.57] Playalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n[02:46.23] Play your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\n[02:48.90] Night fall might call your life, shit is trife\n[02:51.77] On these evil streets after dark\n[02:53.75] Niggaz gettin' sparked left and outlined in chalk\n[02:56.52] New day, this whole shit's twisted is it man\n[03:00.10] It's me bombin' on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\n[03:02.95] Open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\n[03:05.61] Hopin' to ride in the, industry with E\n[03:08.37] The villain's had it cause ahead, word up yeah\n[03:10.61] Killin my psychosomatic pattern mad, yeah\n[03:15.26] Y'all know, uhh, yeah, muddy waters\n[03:20.78] We out for nine-seven, word up, peace\n[03:28.09] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Da Ill Out (feat. Jamal & Keith Murray)\n  artist: Redman\n  album: Muddy Waters\n  duration_ms: 215000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yo Reggie, I'm out\n  start_ms: 290\n  end_ms: 2870\n- text: T-ree F Squad\n  start_ms: 2870\n  end_ms: 4650\n- text: Muddy Waters\n  start_ms: 4650\n  end_ms: 8280\n- text: Don't get it twisted, nigga\n  start_ms: 8280\n  end_ms: 11040\n- text: Aiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\n  start_ms: 11040\n  end_ms: 13720\n- text: Fuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\n  start_ms: 13720\n  end_ms: 16520\n- text: Rock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\n  start_ms: 16520\n  end_ms: 19280\n- text: I beez that, freak of the week like I made knee deep\n  start_ms: 19280\n  end_ms: 21970\n- text: Hold up, rotate around the solar, badder than cobra\n  start_ms: 21970\n  end_ms: 24740\n- text: Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps folgers\n  start_ms: 24740\n  end_ms: 27460\n- text: I'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\n  start_ms: 27460\n  end_ms: 31050\n- text: Without the MSG and chopped celery\n  start_ms: 31050\n  end_ms: 32940\n- text: See, I made it, my flavor situated\n  start_ms: 32940\n  end_ms: 35600\n- text: From the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\n  start_ms: 35600\n  end_ms: 38460\n- text: Plus, I'm thick like quakers on papers\n  start_ms: 38460\n  end_ms: 41110\n- text: Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n  start_ms: 41110\n  end_ms: 43970\n- text: Letterin' and the medicine, that I'm swallowin'\n  start_ms: 43970\n  end_ms: 45730\n- text: Get you hollerin', like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\n  start_ms: 45730\n  end_ms: 49380\n- text: In the chest, I roll with two stacks of tecs\n  start_ms: 49380\n  end_ms: 51210\n- text: And mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n  start_ms: 51210\n  end_ms: 53940\n- text: Mister fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\n  start_ms: 53940\n  end_ms: 57620\n- text: When I'm blasted, my method magics get drastic\n  start_ms: 57620\n  end_ms: 60310\n- text: That you can't see with bifocals\n  start_ms: 60310\n  end_ms: 62160\n- text: Watchin' MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n  start_ms: 62160\n  end_ms: 64960\n- text: I leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\n  start_ms: 64960\n  end_ms: 68560\n- text: That's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\n  start_ms: 68560\n  end_ms: 70310\n- text: I'm poppin' mad shit, plus I can back it\n  start_ms: 70310\n  end_ms: 73170\n- text: Your man'll be like, yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\n  start_ms: 73170\n  end_ms: 75820\n- text: It ain't a test or quiz that my squad can't win\n  start_ms: 75820\n  end_ms: 77790\n- text: Those who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\n  start_ms: 77790\n  end_ms: 81330\n- text: Y'all digest multiple stab wounds to the chest\n  start_ms: 81330\n  end_ms: 83120\n- text: And I copycat kill the rest, with no method to my madness\n  start_ms: 83120\n  end_ms: 86870\n- text: Plus the apparatus with the baddest\n  start_ms: 86870\n  end_ms: 88690\n- text: Determined to be the last man, standin' on the planet\n  start_ms: 88690\n  end_ms: 91400\n- text: Y'all get attached, like a blood-suckin' leech\n  start_ms: 91400\n  end_ms: 94110\n- text: When you fall into my rhythm of speech\n  start_ms: 94110\n  end_ms: 96820\n- text: Your hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\n  start_ms: 96820\n  end_ms: 99620\n- text: Head get wrapped up neck get throwin' in a neck brace\n  start_ms: 99620\n  end_ms: 102300\n- text: Rough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\n  start_ms: 102300\n  end_ms: 105190\n- text: Will ironically, chronically murder you and your crew\n  start_ms: 105190\n  end_ms: 107860\n- text: My directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\n  start_ms: 107860\n  end_ms: 110560\n- text: See I get to the bottom of the problem and make shit give\n  start_ms: 110560\n  end_ms: 113340\n- text: Step in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\n  start_ms: 113340\n  end_ms: 115110\n- text: Cast to the masses grabs the mic\n  start_ms: 115110\n  end_ms: 116070\n- text: Ten dollar rappers is what L.O.D. goes after\n  start_ms: 116070\n  end_ms: 118810\n- text: To my squad, there's no matches, we bashes\n  start_ms: 118810\n  end_ms: 120620\n- text: Do photo flashes on all flavor s-classes\n  start_ms: 120620\n  end_ms: 123340\n- text: Bomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\n  start_ms: 123340\n  end_ms: 127840\n- text: Tie you up, throw you in the act\n  start_ms: 127840\n  end_ms: 128810\n- text: A public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n  start_ms: 128810\n  end_ms: 132450\n- text: '''Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up'\n  start_ms: 132450\n  end_ms: 135180\n- text: Muddy waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\n  start_ms: 135180\n  end_ms: 137940\n- text: Drunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\n  start_ms: 137940\n  end_ms: 139770\n- text: Fuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\n  start_ms: 139770\n  end_ms: 142450\n- text: Playin' that big shit get broke down microscopic\n  start_ms: 142450\n  end_ms: 145200\n- text: Freak it back keep the track ringin', with the bassline\n  start_ms: 145200\n  end_ms: 147930\n- text: It's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\n  start_ms: 147930\n  end_ms: 150670\n- text: Face the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\n  start_ms: 150670\n  end_ms: 153480\n- text: Around and round, avoidin' the time to put it down\n  start_ms: 153480\n  end_ms: 155250\n- text: Now's the time here yeah, clown where, pick a spot\n  start_ms: 155250\n  end_ms: 158060\n- text: Neutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\n  start_ms: 158060\n  end_ms: 160700\n- text: Gangsta, so called killin', cap peelin'\n  start_ms: 160700\n  end_ms: 163570\n- text: Playalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n  start_ms: 163570\n  end_ms: 166230\n- text: Play your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\n  start_ms: 166230\n  end_ms: 168900\n- text: Night fall might call your life, shit is trife\n  start_ms: 168900\n  end_ms: 171770\n- text: On these evil streets after dark\n  start_ms: 171770\n  end_ms: 173750\n- text: Niggaz gettin' sparked left and outlined in chalk\n  start_ms: 173750\n  end_ms: 176520\n- text: New day, this whole shit's twisted is it man\n  start_ms: 176520\n  end_ms: 180100\n- text: It's me bombin' on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\n  start_ms: 180100\n  end_ms: 182950\n- text: Open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\n  start_ms: 182950\n  end_ms: 185610\n- text: Hopin' to ride in the, industry with E\n  start_ms: 185610\n  end_ms: 188370\n- text: The villain's had it cause ahead, word up yeah\n  start_ms: 188370\n  end_ms: 190610\n- text: Killin my psychosomatic pattern mad, yeah\n  start_ms: 190610\n  end_ms: 195260\n- text: Y'all know, uhh, yeah, muddy waters\n  start_ms: 195260\n  end_ms: 200780\n- text: We out for nine-seven, word up, peace\n  start_ms: 200780\n  end_ms: 208090\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 208090\nplain: |-\n  Yo Reggie, I'm out\n  T-ree F Squad\n  Muddy Waters\n  Don't get it twisted, nigga\n\n  Aiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\n  Fuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\n  Rock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\n  I beez that, freak of the week like I made knee deep\n\n  Hold up, rotate around the solar, badder than cobra\n  Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps folgers\n  I'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\n  Without the MSG and chopped celery\n\n  See, I made it, my flavor situated\n  From the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\n  Plus, I'm thick like quakers on papers\n  Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n\n  Letterin' and the medicine, that I'm swallowin'\n  Get you hollerin', like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\n  In the chest, I roll with two stacks of tecs\n  And mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n\n  Mister fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\n  When I'm blasted, my method magics get drastic\n  That you can't see with bifocals\n  Watchin' MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n\n  I leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\n  That's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\n  I'm poppin' mad shit, plus I can back it\n  Your man'll be like, yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\n\n  It ain't a test or quiz that my squad can't win\n  Those who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\n  Y'all digest multiple stab wounds to the chest\n  And I copycat kill the rest, with no method to my madness\n\n  Plus the apparatus with the baddest\n  Determined to be the last man, standin' on the planet\n  Y'all get attached, like a blood-suckin' leech\n  When you fall into my rhythm of speech\n\n  Your hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\n  Head get wrapped up neck get throwin' in a neck brace\n  Rough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\n  Will ironically, chronically murder you and your crew\n\n  My directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\n  See I get to the bottom of the problem and make shit give\n  Step in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\n  Cast to the masses grabs the mic\n  Ten dollar rappers is what L.O.D. goes after\n\n  To my squad, there's no matches, we bashes\n  Do photo flashes on all flavor s-classes\n  Bomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\n  Tie you up, throw you in the act\n  A public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n  'Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up\n\n  Muddy waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\n  Drunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\n  Fuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\n  Playin' that big shit get broke down microscopic\n\n  Freak it back keep the track ringin', with the bassline\n  It's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\n  Face the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\n  Around and round, avoidin' the time to put it down\n\n  Now's the time here yeah, clown where, pick a spot\n  Neutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\n  Gangsta, so called killin', cap peelin'\n  Playalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n\n  Play your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\n  Night fall might call your life, shit is trife\n  On these evil streets after dark\n  Niggaz gettin' sparked left and outlined in chalk\n\n  New day, this whole shit's twisted is it man\n  It's me bombin' on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\n  Open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\n  Hopin' to ride in the, industry with E\n\n  The villain's had it cause ahead, word up yeah\n  Killin my psychosomatic pattern mad, yeah\n  Y'all know, uhh, yeah, muddy waters\n  We out for nine-seven, word up, peace\n"},{"id":6812231,"name":"Da Ill Out ft. Jamal & Keith Murray","trackName":"Da Ill Out ft. Jamal & Keith Murray","artistName":"Redman","albumName":"Muddy Waters","duration":215.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo Reggie, I'm out\nT-ree F Squad\nMuddy Waters\nDon't get it twisted, nigga\n\nAiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\nFuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\nRock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\nI beez that, freak of the week like I made knee deep\n\nHold up, rotate around the solar, badder than cobra\nComposure never sleeps, my stream pumps folgers\nI'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\nWithout the MSG and chopped celery\n\nSee, I made it, my flavor situated\nFrom the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\nPlus, I'm thick like quakers on papers\nBodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n\nLetterin' and the medicine, that I'm swallowin'\nGet you hollerin', like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\nIn the chest, I roll with two stacks of tecs\nAnd mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n\nMister fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\nWhen I'm blasted, my method magics get drastic\nThat you can't see with bifocals\nWatchin' MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n\nI leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\nThat's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\nI'm poppin' mad shit, plus I can back it\nYour man'll be like, yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\n\nIt ain't a test or quiz that my squad can't win\nThose who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\nY'all digest multiple stab wounds to the chest\nAnd I copycat kill the rest, with no method to my madness\n\nPlus the apparatus with the baddest\nDetermined to be the last man, standin' on the planet\nY'all get attached, like a blood-suckin' leech\nWhen you fall into my rhythm of speech\n\nYour hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\nHead get wrapped up neck get throwin' in a neck brace\nRough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\nWill ironically, chronically murder you and your crew\n\nMy directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\nSee I get to the bottom of the problem and make shit give\nStep in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\nCast to the masses grabs the mic\nTen dollar rappers is what L.O.D. goes after\n\nTo my squad, there's no matches, we bashes\nDo photo flashes on all flavor s-classes\nBomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\nTie you up, throw you in the act\nA public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n'Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up\n\nMuddy waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\nDrunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\nFuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\nPlayin' that big shit get broke down microscopic\n\nFreak it back keep the track ringin', with the bassline\nIt's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\nFace the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\nAround and round, avoidin' the time to put it down\n\nNow's the time here yeah, clown where, pick a spot\nNeutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\nGangsta, so called killin', cap peelin'\nPlayalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n\nPlay your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\nNight fall might call your life, shit is trife\nOn these evil streets after dark\nNiggaz gettin' sparked left and outlined in chalk\n\nNew day, this whole shit's twisted is it man\nIt's me bombin' on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\nOpen your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\nHopin' to ride in the, industry with E\n\nThe villain's had it cause ahead, word up yeah\nKillin my psychosomatic pattern mad, yeah\nY'all know, uhh, yeah, muddy waters\nWe out for nine-seven, word up, peace","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.29] Yo Reggie, I'm out\n[00:02.87] T-ree F Squad\n[00:04.65] Muddy Waters\n[00:08.28] Don't get it twisted, nigga\n[00:11.04] Aiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\n[00:13.72] Fuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\n[00:16.52] Rock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\n[00:19.28] I beez that, freak of the week like I made knee deep\n[00:21.97] Hold up, rotate around the solar, badder than cobra\n[00:24.74] Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps folgers\n[00:27.46] I'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\n[00:31.05] Without the MSG and chopped celery\n[00:32.94] See, I made it, my flavor situated\n[00:35.60] From the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\n[00:38.46] Plus, I'm thick like quakers on papers\n[00:41.11] Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n[00:43.97] Letterin' and the medicine, that I'm swallowin'\n[00:45.73] Get you hollerin', like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\n[00:49.38] In the chest, I roll with two stacks of tecs\n[00:51.21] And mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n[00:53.94] Mister fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\n[00:57.62] When I'm blasted, my method magics get drastic\n[01:00.31] That you can't see with bifocals\n[01:02.16] Watchin' MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n[01:04.96] I leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\n[01:08.56] That's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\n[01:10.31] I'm poppin' mad shit, plus I can back it\n[01:13.17] Your man'll be like, yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\n[01:15.82] It ain't a test or quiz that my squad can't win\n[01:17.79] Those who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\n[01:21.33] Y'all digest multiple stab wounds to the chest\n[01:23.12] And I copycat kill the rest, with no method to my madness\n[01:26.87] Plus the apparatus with the baddest\n[01:28.69] Determined to be the last man, standin' on the planet\n[01:31.40] Y'all get attached, like a blood-suckin' leech\n[01:34.11] When you fall into my rhythm of speech\n[01:36.82] Your hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\n[01:39.62] Head get wrapped up neck get throwin' in a neck brace\n[01:42.30] Rough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\n[01:45.19] Will ironically, chronically murder you and your crew\n[01:47.86] My directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\n[01:50.56] See I get to the bottom of the problem and make shit give\n[01:53.34] Step in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\n[01:55.11] Cast to the masses grabs the mic\n[01:56.07] Ten dollar rappers is what L.O.D. goes after\n[01:58.81] To my squad, there's no matches, we bashes\n[02:00.62] Do photo flashes on all flavor s-classes\n[02:03.34] Bomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\n[02:07.84] Tie you up, throw you in the act\n[02:08.81] A public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n[02:12.45] 'Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up\n[02:15.18] Muddy waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\n[02:17.94] Drunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\n[02:19.77] Fuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\n[02:22.45] Playin' that big shit get broke down microscopic\n[02:25.20] Freak it back keep the track ringin', with the bassline\n[02:27.93] It's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\n[02:30.67] Face the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\n[02:33.48] Around and round, avoidin' the time to put it down\n[02:35.25] Now's the time here yeah, clown where, pick a spot\n[02:38.06] Neutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\n[02:40.70] Gangsta, so called killin', cap peelin'\n[02:43.57] Playalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n[02:46.23] Play your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\n[02:48.90] Night fall might call your life, shit is trife\n[02:51.77] On these evil streets after dark\n[02:53.75] Niggaz gettin' sparked left and outlined in chalk\n[02:56.52] New day, this whole shit's twisted is it man\n[03:00.10] It's me bombin' on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\n[03:02.95] Open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\n[03:05.61] Hopin' to ride in the, industry with E\n[03:08.37] The villain's had it cause ahead, word up yeah\n[03:10.61] Killin my psychosomatic pattern mad, yeah\n[03:15.26] Y'all know, uhh, yeah, muddy waters\n[03:20.78] We out for nine-seven, word up, peace\n[03:28.09] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Da Ill Out ft. Jamal & Keith Murray\n  artist: Redman\n  album: Muddy Waters\n  duration_ms: 215000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yo Reggie, I'm out\n  start_ms: 290\n  end_ms: 2870\n- text: T-ree F Squad\n  start_ms: 2870\n  end_ms: 4650\n- text: Muddy Waters\n  start_ms: 4650\n  end_ms: 8280\n- text: Don't get it twisted, nigga\n  start_ms: 8280\n  end_ms: 11040\n- text: Aiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\n  start_ms: 11040\n  end_ms: 13720\n- text: Fuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\n  start_ms: 13720\n  end_ms: 16520\n- text: Rock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\n  start_ms: 16520\n  end_ms: 19280\n- text: I beez that, freak of the week like I made knee deep\n  start_ms: 19280\n  end_ms: 21970\n- text: Hold up, rotate around the solar, badder than cobra\n  start_ms: 21970\n  end_ms: 24740\n- text: Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps folgers\n  start_ms: 24740\n  end_ms: 27460\n- text: I'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\n  start_ms: 27460\n  end_ms: 31050\n- text: Without the MSG and chopped celery\n  start_ms: 31050\n  end_ms: 32940\n- text: See, I made it, my flavor situated\n  start_ms: 32940\n  end_ms: 35600\n- text: From the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\n  start_ms: 35600\n  end_ms: 38460\n- text: Plus, I'm thick like quakers on papers\n  start_ms: 38460\n  end_ms: 41110\n- text: Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n  start_ms: 41110\n  end_ms: 43970\n- text: Letterin' and the medicine, that I'm swallowin'\n  start_ms: 43970\n  end_ms: 45730\n- text: Get you hollerin', like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\n  start_ms: 45730\n  end_ms: 49380\n- text: In the chest, I roll with two stacks of tecs\n  start_ms: 49380\n  end_ms: 51210\n- text: And mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n  start_ms: 51210\n  end_ms: 53940\n- text: Mister fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\n  start_ms: 53940\n  end_ms: 57620\n- text: When I'm blasted, my method magics get drastic\n  start_ms: 57620\n  end_ms: 60310\n- text: That you can't see with bifocals\n  start_ms: 60310\n  end_ms: 62160\n- text: Watchin' MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n  start_ms: 62160\n  end_ms: 64960\n- text: I leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\n  start_ms: 64960\n  end_ms: 68560\n- text: That's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\n  start_ms: 68560\n  end_ms: 70310\n- text: I'm poppin' mad shit, plus I can back it\n  start_ms: 70310\n  end_ms: 73170\n- text: Your man'll be like, yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\n  start_ms: 73170\n  end_ms: 75820\n- text: It ain't a test or quiz that my squad can't win\n  start_ms: 75820\n  end_ms: 77790\n- text: Those who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\n  start_ms: 77790\n  end_ms: 81330\n- text: Y'all digest multiple stab wounds to the chest\n  start_ms: 81330\n  end_ms: 83120\n- text: And I copycat kill the rest, with no method to my madness\n  start_ms: 83120\n  end_ms: 86870\n- text: Plus the apparatus with the baddest\n  start_ms: 86870\n  end_ms: 88690\n- text: Determined to be the last man, standin' on the planet\n  start_ms: 88690\n  end_ms: 91400\n- text: Y'all get attached, like a blood-suckin' leech\n  start_ms: 91400\n  end_ms: 94110\n- text: When you fall into my rhythm of speech\n  start_ms: 94110\n  end_ms: 96820\n- text: Your hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\n  start_ms: 96820\n  end_ms: 99620\n- text: Head get wrapped up neck get throwin' in a neck brace\n  start_ms: 99620\n  end_ms: 102300\n- text: Rough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\n  start_ms: 102300\n  end_ms: 105190\n- text: Will ironically, chronically murder you and your crew\n  start_ms: 105190\n  end_ms: 107860\n- text: My directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\n  start_ms: 107860\n  end_ms: 110560\n- text: See I get to the bottom of the problem and make shit give\n  start_ms: 110560\n  end_ms: 113340\n- text: Step in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\n  start_ms: 113340\n  end_ms: 115110\n- text: Cast to the masses grabs the mic\n  start_ms: 115110\n  end_ms: 116070\n- text: Ten dollar rappers is what L.O.D. goes after\n  start_ms: 116070\n  end_ms: 118810\n- text: To my squad, there's no matches, we bashes\n  start_ms: 118810\n  end_ms: 120620\n- text: Do photo flashes on all flavor s-classes\n  start_ms: 120620\n  end_ms: 123340\n- text: Bomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\n  start_ms: 123340\n  end_ms: 127840\n- text: Tie you up, throw you in the act\n  start_ms: 127840\n  end_ms: 128810\n- text: A public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n  start_ms: 128810\n  end_ms: 132450\n- text: '''Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up'\n  start_ms: 132450\n  end_ms: 135180\n- text: Muddy waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\n  start_ms: 135180\n  end_ms: 137940\n- text: Drunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\n  start_ms: 137940\n  end_ms: 139770\n- text: Fuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\n  start_ms: 139770\n  end_ms: 142450\n- text: Playin' that big shit get broke down microscopic\n  start_ms: 142450\n  end_ms: 145200\n- text: Freak it back keep the track ringin', with the bassline\n  start_ms: 145200\n  end_ms: 147930\n- text: It's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\n  start_ms: 147930\n  end_ms: 150670\n- text: Face the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\n  start_ms: 150670\n  end_ms: 153480\n- text: Around and round, avoidin' the time to put it down\n  start_ms: 153480\n  end_ms: 155250\n- text: Now's the time here yeah, clown where, pick a spot\n  start_ms: 155250\n  end_ms: 158060\n- text: Neutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\n  start_ms: 158060\n  end_ms: 160700\n- text: Gangsta, so called killin', cap peelin'\n  start_ms: 160700\n  end_ms: 163570\n- text: Playalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n  start_ms: 163570\n  end_ms: 166230\n- text: Play your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\n  start_ms: 166230\n  end_ms: 168900\n- text: Night fall might call your life, shit is trife\n  start_ms: 168900\n  end_ms: 171770\n- text: On these evil streets after dark\n  start_ms: 171770\n  end_ms: 173750\n- text: Niggaz gettin' sparked left and outlined in chalk\n  start_ms: 173750\n  end_ms: 176520\n- text: New day, this whole shit's twisted is it man\n  start_ms: 176520\n  end_ms: 180100\n- text: It's me bombin' on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\n  start_ms: 180100\n  end_ms: 182950\n- text: Open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\n  start_ms: 182950\n  end_ms: 185610\n- text: Hopin' to ride in the, industry with E\n  start_ms: 185610\n  end_ms: 188370\n- text: The villain's had it cause ahead, word up yeah\n  start_ms: 188370\n  end_ms: 190610\n- text: Killin my psychosomatic pattern mad, yeah\n  start_ms: 190610\n  end_ms: 195260\n- text: Y'all know, uhh, yeah, muddy waters\n  start_ms: 195260\n  end_ms: 200780\n- text: We out for nine-seven, word up, peace\n  start_ms: 200780\n  end_ms: 208090\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 208090\nplain: |-\n  Yo Reggie, I'm out\n  T-ree F Squad\n  Muddy Waters\n  Don't get it twisted, nigga\n\n  Aiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\n  Fuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\n  Rock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\n  I beez that, freak of the week like I made knee deep\n\n  Hold up, rotate around the solar, badder than cobra\n  Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps folgers\n  I'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\n  Without the MSG and chopped celery\n\n  See, I made it, my flavor situated\n  From the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\n  Plus, I'm thick like quakers on papers\n  Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n\n  Letterin' and the medicine, that I'm swallowin'\n  Get you hollerin', like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\n  In the chest, I roll with two stacks of tecs\n  And mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n\n  Mister fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\n  When I'm blasted, my method magics get drastic\n  That you can't see with bifocals\n  Watchin' MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n\n  I leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\n  That's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\n  I'm poppin' mad shit, plus I can back it\n  Your man'll be like, yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\n\n  It ain't a test or quiz that my squad can't win\n  Those who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\n  Y'all digest multiple stab wounds to the chest\n  And I copycat kill the rest, with no method to my madness\n\n  Plus the apparatus with the baddest\n  Determined to be the last man, standin' on the planet\n  Y'all get attached, like a blood-suckin' leech\n  When you fall into my rhythm of speech\n\n  Your hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\n  Head get wrapped up neck get throwin' in a neck brace\n  Rough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\n  Will ironically, chronically murder you and your crew\n\n  My directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\n  See I get to the bottom of the problem and make shit give\n  Step in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\n  Cast to the masses grabs the mic\n  Ten dollar rappers is what L.O.D. goes after\n\n  To my squad, there's no matches, we bashes\n  Do photo flashes on all flavor s-classes\n  Bomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\n  Tie you up, throw you in the act\n  A public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n  'Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up\n\n  Muddy waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\n  Drunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\n  Fuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\n  Playin' that big shit get broke down microscopic\n\n  Freak it back keep the track ringin', with the bassline\n  It's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\n  Face the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\n  Around and round, avoidin' the time to put it down\n\n  Now's the time here yeah, clown where, pick a spot\n  Neutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\n  Gangsta, so called killin', cap peelin'\n  Playalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n\n  Play your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\n  Night fall might call your life, shit is trife\n  On these evil streets after dark\n  Niggaz gettin' sparked left and outlined in chalk\n\n  New day, this whole shit's twisted is it man\n  It's me bombin' on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\n  Open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\n  Hopin' to ride in the, industry with E\n\n  The villain's had it cause ahead, word up yeah\n  Killin my psychosomatic pattern mad, yeah\n  Y'all know, uhh, yeah, muddy waters\n  We out for nine-seven, word up, peace\n"},{"id":14378816,"name":"Da Ill Out Ft. Keith Murray & Jamal","trackName":"Da Ill Out Ft. Keith Murray & Jamal","artistName":"Redman","albumName":"Muddy Waters","duration":215.855167,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo Reggie, I'm out\nT-ree F Squad\nMuddy Waters\nDon't get it twisted, nigga\n\nAiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\nFuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\nRock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\nI beez that, freak of the week like I made knee deep\n\nHold up, rotate around the solar, badder than cobra\nComposure never sleeps, my stream pumps folgers\nI'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\nWithout the MSG and chopped celery\n\nSee, I made it, my flavor situated\nFrom the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\nPlus, I'm thick like quakers on papers\nBodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n\nLetterin' and the medicine, that I'm swallowin'\nGet you hollerin', like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\nIn the chest, I roll with two stacks of tecs\nAnd mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n\nMister fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\nWhen I'm blasted, my method magics get drastic\nThat you can't see with bifocals\nWatchin' MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n\nI leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\nThat's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\nI'm poppin' mad shit, plus I can back it\nYour man'll be like, yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\n\nIt ain't a test or quiz that my squad can't win\nThose who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\nY'all digest multiple stab wounds to the chest\nAnd I copycat kill the rest, with no method to my madness\n\nPlus the apparatus with the baddest\nDetermined to be the last man, standin' on the planet\nY'all get attached, like a blood-suckin' leech\nWhen you fall into my rhythm of speech\n\nYour hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\nHead get wrapped up neck get throwin' in a neck brace\nRough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\nWill ironically, chronically murder you and your crew\n\nMy directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\nSee I get to the bottom of the problem and make shit give\nStep in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\nCast to the masses grabs the mic\nTen dollar rappers is what L.O.D. goes after\n\nTo my squad, there's no matches, we bashes\nDo photo flashes on all flavor s-classes\nBomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\nTie you up, throw you in the act\nA public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n'Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up\n\nMuddy waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\nDrunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\nFuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\nPlayin' that big shit get broke down microscopic\n\nFreak it back keep the track ringin', with the bassline\nIt's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\nFace the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\nAround and round, avoidin' the time to put it down\n\nNow's the time here yeah, clown where, pick a spot\nNeutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\nGangsta, so called killin', cap peelin'\nPlayalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n\nPlay your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\nNight fall might call your life, shit is trife\nOn these evil streets after dark\nNiggaz gettin' sparked left and outlined in chalk\n\nNew day, this whole shit's twisted is it man\nIt's me bombin' on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\nOpen your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\nHopin' to ride in the, industry with E\n\nThe villain's had it cause ahead, word up yeah\nKillin my psychosomatic pattern mad, yeah\nY'all know, uhh, yeah, muddy waters\nWe out for nine-seven, word up, peace","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.29] Yo Reggie, I'm out\n[00:02.87] T-ree F Squad\n[00:04.65] Muddy Waters\n[00:08.28] Don't get it twisted, nigga\n[00:11.04] Aiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\n[00:13.72] Fuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\n[00:16.52] Rock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\n[00:19.28] I beez that, freak of the week like I made knee deep\n[00:21.97] Hold up, rotate around the solar, badder than cobra\n[00:24.74] Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps folgers\n[00:27.46] I'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\n[00:31.05] Without the MSG and chopped celery\n[00:32.94] See, I made it, my flavor situated\n[00:35.60] From the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\n[00:38.46] Plus, I'm thick like quakers on papers\n[00:41.11] Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n[00:43.97] Letterin' and the medicine, that I'm swallowin'\n[00:45.73] Get you hollerin', like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\n[00:49.38] In the chest, I roll with two stacks of tecs\n[00:51.21] And mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n[00:53.94] Mister fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\n[00:57.62] When I'm blasted, my method magics get drastic\n[01:00.31] That you can't see with bifocals\n[01:02.16] Watchin' MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n[01:04.96] I leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\n[01:08.56] That's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\n[01:10.31] I'm poppin' mad shit, plus I can back it\n[01:13.17] Your man'll be like, yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\n[01:15.82] It ain't a test or quiz that my squad can't win\n[01:17.79] Those who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\n[01:21.33] Y'all digest multiple stab wounds to the chest\n[01:23.12] And I copycat kill the rest, with no method to my madness\n[01:26.87] Plus the apparatus with the baddest\n[01:28.69] Determined to be the last man, standin' on the planet\n[01:31.40] Y'all get attached, like a blood-suckin' leech\n[01:34.11] When you fall into my rhythm of speech\n[01:36.82] Your hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\n[01:39.62] Head get wrapped up neck get throwin' in a neck brace\n[01:42.30] Rough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\n[01:45.19] Will ironically, chronically murder you and your crew\n[01:47.86] My directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\n[01:50.56] See I get to the bottom of the problem and make shit give\n[01:53.34] Step in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\n[01:55.11] Cast to the masses grabs the mic\n[01:56.07] Ten dollar rappers is what L.O.D. goes after\n[01:58.81] To my squad, there's no matches, we bashes\n[02:00.62] Do photo flashes on all flavor s-classes\n[02:03.34] Bomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\n[02:07.84] Tie you up, throw you in the act\n[02:08.81] A public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n[02:12.45] 'Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up\n[02:15.18] Muddy waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\n[02:17.94] Drunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\n[02:19.77] Fuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\n[02:22.45] Playin' that big shit get broke down microscopic\n[02:25.20] Freak it back keep the track ringin', with the bassline\n[02:27.93] It's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\n[02:30.67] Face the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\n[02:33.48] Around and round, avoidin' the time to put it down\n[02:35.25] Now's the time here yeah, clown where, pick a spot\n[02:38.06] Neutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\n[02:40.70] Gangsta, so called killin', cap peelin'\n[02:43.57] Playalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n[02:46.23] Play your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\n[02:48.90] Night fall might call your life, shit is trife\n[02:51.77] On these evil streets after dark\n[02:53.75] Niggaz gettin' sparked left and outlined in chalk\n[02:56.52] New day, this whole shit's twisted is it man\n[03:00.10] It's me bombin' on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\n[03:02.95] Open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\n[03:05.61] Hopin' to ride in the, industry with E\n[03:08.37] The villain's had it cause ahead, word up yeah\n[03:10.61] Killin my psychosomatic pattern mad, yeah\n[03:15.26] Y'all know, uhh, yeah, muddy waters\n[03:20.78] We out for nine-seven, word up, peace\n[03:28.09] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Da Ill Out Ft. 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start_ms: 27460\n  end_ms: 31050\n- text: Without the MSG and chopped celery\n  start_ms: 31050\n  end_ms: 32940\n- text: See, I made it, my flavor situated\n  start_ms: 32940\n  end_ms: 35600\n- text: From the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\n  start_ms: 35600\n  end_ms: 38460\n- text: Plus, I'm thick like quakers on papers\n  start_ms: 38460\n  end_ms: 41110\n- text: Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n  start_ms: 41110\n  end_ms: 43970\n- text: Letterin' and the medicine, that I'm swallowin'\n  start_ms: 43970\n  end_ms: 45730\n- text: Get you hollerin', like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\n  start_ms: 45730\n  end_ms: 49380\n- text: In the chest, I roll with two stacks of tecs\n  start_ms: 49380\n  end_ms: 51210\n- text: And mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n  start_ms: 51210\n  end_ms: 53940\n- text: Mister fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\n  start_ms: 53940\n  end_ms: 57620\n- text: When I'm blasted, my method magics 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not logic\n  start_ms: 139770\n  end_ms: 142450\n- text: Playin' that big shit get broke down microscopic\n  start_ms: 142450\n  end_ms: 145200\n- text: Freak it back keep the track ringin', with the bassline\n  start_ms: 145200\n  end_ms: 147930\n- text: It's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\n  start_ms: 147930\n  end_ms: 150670\n- text: Face the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\n  start_ms: 150670\n  end_ms: 153480\n- text: Around and round, avoidin' the time to put it down\n  start_ms: 153480\n  end_ms: 155250\n- text: Now's the time here yeah, clown where, pick a spot\n  start_ms: 155250\n  end_ms: 158060\n- text: Neutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\n  start_ms: 158060\n  end_ms: 160700\n- text: Gangsta, so called killin', cap peelin'\n  start_ms: 160700\n  end_ms: 163570\n- text: Playalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n  start_ms: 163570\n  end_ms: 166230\n- text: Play your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\n  start_ms: 166230\n  end_ms: 168900\n- text: Night fall might call your life, shit is trife\n  start_ms: 168900\n  end_ms: 171770\n- text: On these evil streets after dark\n  start_ms: 171770\n  end_ms: 173750\n- text: Niggaz gettin' sparked left and outlined in chalk\n  start_ms: 173750\n  end_ms: 176520\n- text: New day, this whole shit's twisted is it man\n  start_ms: 176520\n  end_ms: 180100\n- text: It's me bombin' on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\n  start_ms: 180100\n  end_ms: 182950\n- text: Open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\n  start_ms: 182950\n  end_ms: 185610\n- text: Hopin' to ride in the, industry with E\n  start_ms: 185610\n  end_ms: 188370\n- text: The villain's had it cause ahead, word up yeah\n  start_ms: 188370\n  end_ms: 190610\n- text: Killin my psychosomatic pattern mad, yeah\n  start_ms: 190610\n  end_ms: 195260\n- text: Y'all know, uhh, yeah, muddy waters\n  start_ms: 195260\n  end_ms: 200780\n- text: We out for nine-seven, word up, peace\n  start_ms: 200780\n  end_ms: 208090\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 208090\nplain: |-\n  Yo Reggie, I'm out\n  T-ree F Squad\n  Muddy Waters\n  Don't get it twisted, nigga\n\n  Aiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\n  Fuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\n  Rock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\n  I beez that, freak of the week like I made knee deep\n\n  Hold up, rotate around the solar, badder than cobra\n  Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps folgers\n  I'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\n  Without the MSG and chopped celery\n\n  See, I made it, my flavor situated\n  From the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\n  Plus, I'm thick like quakers on papers\n  Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n\n  Letterin' and the medicine, that I'm swallowin'\n  Get you hollerin', like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\n  In the chest, I roll with two stacks of tecs\n  And mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n\n  Mister fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\n  When I'm blasted, my method magics get drastic\n  That you can't see with bifocals\n  Watchin' MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n\n  I leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\n  That's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\n  I'm poppin' mad shit, plus I can back it\n  Your man'll be like, yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\n\n  It ain't a test or quiz that my squad can't win\n  Those who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\n  Y'all digest multiple stab wounds to the chest\n  And I copycat kill the rest, with no method to my madness\n\n  Plus the apparatus with the baddest\n  Determined to be the last man, standin' on the planet\n  Y'all get attached, like a blood-suckin' leech\n  When you fall into my rhythm of speech\n\n  Your hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\n  Head get wrapped up neck get throwin' in a neck brace\n  Rough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\n  Will ironically, chronically murder you and your crew\n\n  My directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\n  See I get to the bottom of the problem and make shit give\n  Step in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\n  Cast to the masses grabs the mic\n  Ten dollar rappers is what L.O.D. goes after\n\n  To my squad, there's no matches, we bashes\n  Do photo flashes on all flavor s-classes\n  Bomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\n  Tie you up, throw you in the act\n  A public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n  'Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up\n\n  Muddy waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\n  Drunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\n  Fuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\n  Playin' that big shit get broke down microscopic\n\n  Freak it back keep the track ringin', with the bassline\n  It's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\n  Face the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\n  Around and round, avoidin' the time to put it down\n\n  Now's the time here yeah, clown where, pick a spot\n  Neutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\n  Gangsta, so called killin', cap peelin'\n  Playalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n\n  Play your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\n  Night fall might call your life, shit is trife\n  On these evil streets after dark\n  Niggaz gettin' sparked left and outlined in chalk\n\n  New day, this whole shit's twisted is it man\n  It's me bombin' on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\n  Open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\n  Hopin' to ride in the, industry with E\n\n  The villain's had it cause ahead, word up yeah\n  Killin my psychosomatic pattern mad, yeah\n  Y'all know, uhh, yeah, muddy waters\n  We out for nine-seven, word up, peace\n"},{"id":24919978,"name":"Da Ill Out [feat. Jamal & Keith Murray] [Explicit]","trackName":"Da Ill Out [feat. Jamal & Keith Murray] [Explicit]","artistName":"Redman","albumName":"Muddy Waters","duration":215.327347,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo Reggie, I'm out\nT-ree F Squad\nMuddy Waters\nDon't get it twisted, nigga\n\nAiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\nFuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\nRock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\nI beez that, freak of the week like I made knee deep\n\nHold up, rotate around the solar, badder than cobra\nComposure never sleeps, my stream pumps folgers\nI'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\nWithout the MSG and chopped celery\n\nSee, I made it, my flavor situated\nFrom the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\nPlus, I'm thick like quakers on papers\nBodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n\nLetterin' and the medicine, that I'm swallowin'\nGet you hollerin', like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\nIn the chest, I roll with two stacks of tecs\nAnd mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n\nMister fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\nWhen I'm blasted, my method magics get drastic\nThat you can't see with bifocals\nWatchin' MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n\nI leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\nThat's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\nI'm poppin' mad shit, plus I can back it\nYour man'll be like, yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\n\nIt ain't a test or quiz that my squad can't win\nThose who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\nY'all digest multiple stab wounds to the chest\nAnd I copycat kill the rest, with no method to my madness\n\nPlus the apparatus with the baddest\nDetermined to be the last man, standin' on the planet\nY'all get attached, like a blood-suckin' leech\nWhen you fall into my rhythm of speech\n\nYour hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\nHead get wrapped up neck get throwin' in a neck brace\nRough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\nWill ironically, chronically murder you and your crew\n\nMy directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\nSee I get to the bottom of the problem and make shit give\nStep in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\nCast to the masses grabs the mic\nTen dollar rappers is what L.O.D. goes after\n\nTo my squad, there's no matches, we bashes\nDo photo flashes on all flavor s-classes\nBomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\nTie you up, throw you in the act\nA public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n'Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up\n\nMuddy waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\nDrunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\nFuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\nPlayin' that big shit get broke down microscopic\n\nFreak it back keep the track ringin', with the bassline\nIt's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\nFace the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\nAround and round, avoidin' the time to put it down\n\nNow's the time here yeah, clown where, pick a spot\nNeutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\nGangsta, so called killin', cap peelin'\nPlayalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n\nPlay your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\nNight fall might call your life, shit is trife\nOn these evil streets after dark\nNiggaz gettin' sparked left and outlined in chalk\n\nNew day, this whole shit's twisted is it man\nIt's me bombin' on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\nOpen your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\nHopin' to ride in the, industry with E\n\nThe villain's had it cause ahead, word up yeah\nKillin my psychosomatic pattern mad, yeah\nY'all know, uhh, yeah, muddy waters\nWe out for nine-seven, word up, peace","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.29] Yo Reggie, I'm out\n[00:02.87] T-ree F Squad\n[00:04.65] Muddy Waters\n[00:08.28] Don't get it twisted, nigga\n[00:11.04] Aiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\n[00:13.72] Fuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\n[00:16.52] Rock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\n[00:19.28] I beez that, freak of the week like I made knee deep\n[00:21.97] Hold up, rotate around the solar, badder than cobra\n[00:24.74] Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps folgers\n[00:27.46] I'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\n[00:31.05] Without the MSG and chopped celery\n[00:32.94] See, I made it, my flavor situated\n[00:35.60] From the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\n[00:38.46] Plus, I'm thick like quakers on papers\n[00:41.11] Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n[00:43.97] Letterin' and the medicine, that I'm swallowin'\n[00:45.73] Get you hollerin', like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\n[00:49.38] In the chest, I roll with two stacks of tecs\n[00:51.21] And mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n[00:53.94] Mister fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\n[00:57.62] When I'm blasted, my method magics get drastic\n[01:00.31] That you can't see with bifocals\n[01:02.16] Watchin' MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n[01:04.96] I leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\n[01:08.56] That's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\n[01:10.31] I'm poppin' mad shit, plus I can back it\n[01:13.17] Your man'll be like, yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\n[01:15.82] It ain't a test or quiz that my squad can't win\n[01:17.79] Those who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\n[01:21.33] Y'all digest multiple stab wounds to the chest\n[01:23.12] And I copycat kill the rest, with no method to my madness\n[01:26.87] Plus the apparatus with the baddest\n[01:28.69] Determined to be the last man, standin' on the planet\n[01:31.40] Y'all get attached, like a blood-suckin' leech\n[01:34.11] When you fall into my rhythm of speech\n[01:36.82] Your hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\n[01:39.62] Head get wrapped up neck get throwin' in a neck brace\n[01:42.30] Rough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\n[01:45.19] Will ironically, chronically murder you and your crew\n[01:47.86] My directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\n[01:50.56] See I get to the bottom of the problem and make shit give\n[01:53.34] Step in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\n[01:55.11] Cast to the masses grabs the mic\n[01:56.07] Ten dollar rappers is what L.O.D. goes after\n[01:58.81] To my squad, there's no matches, we bashes\n[02:00.62] Do photo flashes on all flavor s-classes\n[02:03.34] Bomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\n[02:07.84] Tie you up, throw you in the act\n[02:08.81] A public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n[02:12.45] 'Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up\n[02:15.18] Muddy waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\n[02:17.94] Drunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\n[02:19.77] Fuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\n[02:22.45] Playin' that big shit get broke down microscopic\n[02:25.20] Freak it back keep the track ringin', with the bassline\n[02:27.93] It's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\n[02:30.67] Face the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\n[02:33.48] Around and round, avoidin' the time to put it down\n[02:35.25] Now's the time here yeah, clown where, pick a spot\n[02:38.06] Neutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\n[02:40.70] Gangsta, so called killin', cap peelin'\n[02:43.57] Playalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n[02:46.23] Play your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\n[02:48.90] Night fall might call your life, shit is trife\n[02:51.77] On these evil streets after dark\n[02:53.75] Niggaz gettin' sparked left and outlined in chalk\n[02:56.52] New day, this whole shit's twisted is it man\n[03:00.10] It's me bombin' on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\n[03:02.95] Open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\n[03:05.61] Hopin' to ride in the, industry with E\n[03:08.37] The villain's had it cause ahead, word up yeah\n[03:10.61] Killin my psychosomatic pattern mad, yeah\n[03:15.26] Y'all know, uhh, yeah, muddy waters\n[03:20.78] We out for nine-seven, word up, peace\n[03:28.09] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Da Ill Out [feat. 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wok\n  start_ms: 27460\n  end_ms: 31050\n- text: Without the MSG and chopped celery\n  start_ms: 31050\n  end_ms: 32940\n- text: See, I made it, my flavor situated\n  start_ms: 32940\n  end_ms: 35600\n- text: From the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\n  start_ms: 35600\n  end_ms: 38460\n- text: Plus, I'm thick like quakers on papers\n  start_ms: 38460\n  end_ms: 41110\n- text: Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n  start_ms: 41110\n  end_ms: 43970\n- text: Letterin' and the medicine, that I'm swallowin'\n  start_ms: 43970\n  end_ms: 45730\n- text: Get you hollerin', like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\n  start_ms: 45730\n  end_ms: 49380\n- text: In the chest, I roll with two stacks of tecs\n  start_ms: 49380\n  end_ms: 51210\n- text: And mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n  start_ms: 51210\n  end_ms: 53940\n- text: Mister fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\n  start_ms: 53940\n  end_ms: 57620\n- text: When I'm blasted, my method 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doe it's not logic\n  start_ms: 139770\n  end_ms: 142450\n- text: Playin' that big shit get broke down microscopic\n  start_ms: 142450\n  end_ms: 145200\n- text: Freak it back keep the track ringin', with the bassline\n  start_ms: 145200\n  end_ms: 147930\n- text: It's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\n  start_ms: 147930\n  end_ms: 150670\n- text: Face the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\n  start_ms: 150670\n  end_ms: 153480\n- text: Around and round, avoidin' the time to put it down\n  start_ms: 153480\n  end_ms: 155250\n- text: Now's the time here yeah, clown where, pick a spot\n  start_ms: 155250\n  end_ms: 158060\n- text: Neutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\n  start_ms: 158060\n  end_ms: 160700\n- text: Gangsta, so called killin', cap peelin'\n  start_ms: 160700\n  end_ms: 163570\n- text: Playalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n  start_ms: 163570\n  end_ms: 166230\n- text: Play your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\n  start_ms: 166230\n  end_ms: 168900\n- text: Night fall might call your life, shit is trife\n  start_ms: 168900\n  end_ms: 171770\n- text: On these evil streets after dark\n  start_ms: 171770\n  end_ms: 173750\n- text: Niggaz gettin' sparked left and outlined in chalk\n  start_ms: 173750\n  end_ms: 176520\n- text: New day, this whole shit's twisted is it man\n  start_ms: 176520\n  end_ms: 180100\n- text: It's me bombin' on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\n  start_ms: 180100\n  end_ms: 182950\n- text: Open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\n  start_ms: 182950\n  end_ms: 185610\n- text: Hopin' to ride in the, industry with E\n  start_ms: 185610\n  end_ms: 188370\n- text: The villain's had it cause ahead, word up yeah\n  start_ms: 188370\n  end_ms: 190610\n- text: Killin my psychosomatic pattern mad, yeah\n  start_ms: 190610\n  end_ms: 195260\n- text: Y'all know, uhh, yeah, muddy waters\n  start_ms: 195260\n  end_ms: 200780\n- text: We out for nine-seven, word up, peace\n  start_ms: 200780\n  end_ms: 208090\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 208090\nplain: |-\n  Yo Reggie, I'm out\n  T-ree F Squad\n  Muddy Waters\n  Don't get it twisted, nigga\n\n  Aiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched\n  Fuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs\n  Rock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques\n  I beez that, freak of the week like I made knee deep\n\n  Hold up, rotate around the solar, badder than cobra\n  Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps folgers\n  I'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok\n  Without the MSG and chopped celery\n\n  See, I made it, my flavor situated\n  From the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated\n  Plus, I'm thick like quakers on papers\n  Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases\n\n  Letterin' and the medicine, that I'm swallowin'\n  Get you hollerin', like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him\n  In the chest, I roll with two stacks of tecs\n  And mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest\n\n  Mister fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick\n  When I'm blasted, my method magics get drastic\n  That you can't see with bifocals\n  Watchin' MC's go up and down like stock brokers\n\n  I leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk\n  That's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt\n  I'm poppin' mad shit, plus I can back it\n  Your man'll be like, yo, get that dust off yo' jacket\n\n  It ain't a test or quiz that my squad can't win\n  Those who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz\n  Y'all digest multiple stab wounds to the chest\n  And I copycat kill the rest, with no method to my madness\n\n  Plus the apparatus with the baddest\n  Determined to be the last man, standin' on the planet\n  Y'all get attached, like a blood-suckin' leech\n  When you fall into my rhythm of speech\n\n  Your hands get embraced with a touch of the bass\n  Head get wrapped up neck get throwin' in a neck brace\n  Rough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?\n  Will ironically, chronically murder you and your crew\n\n  My directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive\n  See I get to the bottom of the problem and make shit give\n  Step in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master\n  Cast to the masses grabs the mic\n  Ten dollar rappers is what L.O.D. goes after\n\n  To my squad, there's no matches, we bashes\n  Do photo flashes on all flavor s-classes\n  Bomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back\n  Tie you up, throw you in the act\n  A public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger\n  'Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up\n\n  Muddy waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go\n  Drunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble\n  Fuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic\n  Playin' that big shit get broke down microscopic\n\n  Freak it back keep the track ringin', with the bassline\n  It's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine\n  Face the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace\n  Around and round, avoidin' the time to put it down\n\n  Now's the time here yeah, clown where, pick a spot\n  Neutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot\n  Gangsta, so called killin', cap peelin'\n  Playalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic\n\n  Play your cards God, black keep your hand held tight\n  Night fall might call your life, shit is trife\n  On these evil streets after dark\n  Niggaz gettin' sparked left and outlined in chalk\n\n  New day, this whole shit's twisted is it man\n  It's me bombin' on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G\n  Open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G\n  Hopin' to ride in the, industry with E\n\n  The villain's had it cause ahead, word up yeah\n  Killin my psychosomatic pattern mad, yeah\n  Y'all know, uhh, yeah, muddy waters\n  We out for nine-seven, word up, peace\n"}]