[{"id":30588729,"name":"Ultimate Rush","trackName":"Ultimate Rush","artistName":"Saukrates & Heltah Skeltah","albumName":"The Underground Tapes (UK)version","duration":182.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"*The Ultimate MC Rush\"\n\n(Rock)\nHi\nAlcatraz\nSome call him Rock, yo\nOne shot'll make ya jump like House of Pain or Kriss Kross\nPlaying hop scotch\nI got the? marks? baby\nEven when I was small I still get crazy hard like a 380\nAnd I hate these fakin MC's\nPlease\nFlee before your temperature drop more degrees\nThan a five percenter\nDressed in a young ass jacket\nIn the winter boy\nDon't end up in a casket for this rap shit.\n\n(Ruck)\nBehold the pale horse\nI see death in your future\nWhen thoughts connect\nIts best to step before I shoot ya\nBack in the days I knew Ruck would rock\nCouldn't wait that long so I jacked Michael J. Fox\nSince the death of the DeLorean\nI been best performing in\nColiseums, and stadiums\nHoldin in? more? palladiums\nAin't no funny vibe from this 25 year old\nUltimate MC test me if ya bold\n\n(Chorus)\nThe ultimate MC rush (X4)\n\n(Saukrates)\nDemonstrate on street ruckus with my nouns and verbs\nHated the real mahfuckers with the thirst for words\nMeditate with me dude\nAlone in my own zone\nCome and get high\nMy shits homegrown\nBionic, hydroponics\nI rap\nTill I'm blue like Sonic\nDelivery's monotonic\nBut my style rocks the phonic\nI hate to say it\nBut you're weak and your styles prosaic\nIf rhyming was fighting I'd be Tyson\nAnd all y'all niggas better flee\nCause right now you're running with Spinks\nCause you're weak son\nI take my time to teach one\nOf the meek ones, who reach one\nIllamatic rap addict\nOn some death of Caesar dramatics\nIts never fluke yo, so don't panic\nYou could go to any other planet\nIn any weather you could run\nBut can't run forever\nSo whatever.\n\nChorus X4\n\n(Singing)\nYou'll admit\nY'all niggas can't compete\nWith my manuscript\n\n(Saukrates)\nI'm the muthafuckin pimp the microphone is my bi-i-itch\nAnd you the john about to make a nigga ri-i-ich\nNow get with this funk arithmetic\nIf you outside make a swi-i-itch\nAnd step inside the aby-y-ys\nNigga come ill, don't tri-i-ip\nSay it again\nYou the john about to make this nigga ri-i-ich\nMan, my finger puppet hard to resi-i-ist\nFind your niche, nigga hold that\nMy trigger finger starts to i-i-itch\n\n(Singing)\nDigging your ditch\n\n(Saukrates)\nI'm on the mound with butane fireball\nBetter duck the wild pi-i-itch\nI'm sick with it\nYou would never fly\nYou an ostri-i-ich\nBe on your back like a rash\nI'm the i-i-ish\nBankers bank is closed\nNo more scrilla for the ni-i-i\n? Wi-i-ife or his kids?\n\nChorus X4","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Ultimate Rush\n  artist: Saukrates & Heltah Skeltah\n  album: The Underground Tapes (UK)version\n  duration_ms: 182000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  *The Ultimate MC Rush\"\n\n  (Rock)\n  Hi\n  Alcatraz\n  Some call him Rock, yo\n  One shot'll make ya jump like House of Pain or Kriss Kross\n  Playing hop scotch\n  I got the? marks? baby\n  Even when I was small I still get crazy hard like a 380\n  And I hate these fakin MC's\n  Please\n  Flee before your temperature drop more degrees\n  Than a five percenter\n  Dressed in a young ass jacket\n  In the winter boy\n  Don't end up in a casket for this rap shit.\n\n  (Ruck)\n  Behold the pale horse\n  I see death in your future\n  When thoughts connect\n  Its best to step before I shoot ya\n  Back in the days I knew Ruck would rock\n  Couldn't wait that long so I jacked Michael J. Fox\n  Since the death of the DeLorean\n  I been best performing in\n  Coliseums, and stadiums\n  Holdin in? more? palladiums\n  Ain't no funny vibe from this 25 year old\n  Ultimate MC test me if ya bold\n\n  (Chorus)\n  The ultimate MC rush (X4)\n\n  (Saukrates)\n  Demonstrate on street ruckus with my nouns and verbs\n  Hated the real mahfuckers with the thirst for words\n  Meditate with me dude\n  Alone in my own zone\n  Come and get high\n  My shits homegrown\n  Bionic, hydroponics\n  I rap\n  Till I'm blue like Sonic\n  Delivery's monotonic\n  But my style rocks the phonic\n  I hate to say it\n  But you're weak and your styles prosaic\n  If rhyming was fighting I'd be Tyson\n  And all y'all niggas better flee\n  Cause right now you're running with Spinks\n  Cause you're weak son\n  I take my time to teach one\n  Of the meek ones, who reach one\n  Illamatic rap addict\n  On some death of Caesar dramatics\n  Its never fluke yo, so don't panic\n  You could go to any other planet\n  In any weather you could run\n  But can't run forever\n  So whatever.\n\n  Chorus X4\n\n  (Singing)\n  You'll admit\n  Y'all niggas can't compete\n  With my manuscript\n\n  (Saukrates)\n  I'm the muthafuckin pimp the microphone is my bi-i-itch\n  And you the john about to make a nigga ri-i-ich\n  Now get with this funk arithmetic\n  If you outside make a swi-i-itch\n  And step inside the aby-y-ys\n  Nigga come ill, don't tri-i-ip\n  Say it again\n  You the john about to make this nigga ri-i-ich\n  Man, my finger puppet hard to resi-i-ist\n  Find your niche, nigga hold that\n  My trigger finger starts to i-i-itch\n\n  (Singing)\n  Digging your ditch\n\n  (Saukrates)\n  I'm on the mound with butane fireball\n  Better duck the wild pi-i-itch\n  I'm sick with it\n  You would never fly\n  You an ostri-i-ich\n  Be on your back like a rash\n  I'm the i-i-ish\n  Bankers bank is closed\n  No more scrilla for the ni-i-i\n  ? Wi-i-ife or his kids?\n\n  Chorus X4\n"},{"id":12477211,"name":"Ultimate Rush","trackName":"Ultimate Rush","artistName":"Saukrates, Heltah Skeltah","albumName":"The Underground Tapes","duration":184.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"*The Ultimate MC Rush\"\n\n(Rock)\nHi\nAlcatraz\nSome call him Rock, yo\nOne shot'll make ya jump like House of Pain or Kriss Kross\nPlaying hop scotch\nI got the? marks? baby\nEven when I was small I still get crazy hard like a 380\nAnd I hate these fakin MC's\nPlease\nFlee before your temperature drop more degrees\nThan a five percenter\nDressed in a young ass jacket\nIn the winter boy\nDon't end up in a casket for this rap shit.\n\n(Ruck)\nBehold the pale horse\nI see death in your future\nWhen thoughts connect\nIts best to step before I shoot ya\nBack in the days I knew Ruck would rock\nCouldn't wait that long so I jacked Michael J. Fox\nSince the death of the DeLorean\nI been best performing in\nColiseums, and stadiums\nHoldin in? more? palladiums\nAin't no funny vibe from this 25 year old\nUltimate MC test me if ya bold\n\n(Chorus)\nThe ultimate MC rush (X4)\n\n(Saukrates)\nDemonstrate on street ruckus with my nouns and verbs\nHated the real mahfuckers with the thirst for words\nMeditate with me dude\nAlone in my own zone\nCome and get high\nMy shits homegrown\nBionic, hydroponics\nI rap\nTill I'm blue like Sonic\nDelivery's monotonic\nBut my style rocks the phonic\nI hate to say it\nBut you're weak and your styles prosaic\nIf rhyming was fighting I'd be Tyson\nAnd all y'all niggas better flee\nCause right now you're running with Spinks\nCause you're weak son\nI take my time to teach one\nOf the meek ones, who reach one\nIllamatic rap addict\nOn some death of Caesar dramatics\nIts never fluke yo, so don't panic\nYou could go to any other planet\nIn any weather you could run\nBut can't run forever\nSo whatever.\n\nChorus X4\n\n(Singing)\nYou'll admit\nY'all niggas can't compete\nWith my manuscript\n\n(Saukrates)\nI'm the muthafuckin pimp the microphone is my bi-i-itch\nAnd you the john about to make a nigga ri-i-ich\nNow get with this funk arithmetic\nIf you outside make a swi-i-itch\nAnd step inside the aby-y-ys\nNigga come ill, don't tri-i-ip\nSay it again\nYou the john about to make this nigga ri-i-ich\nMan, my finger puppet hard to resi-i-ist\nFind your niche, nigga hold that\nMy trigger finger starts to i-i-itch\n\n(Singing)\nDigging your ditch\n\n(Saukrates)\nI'm on the mound with butane fireball\nBetter duck the wild pi-i-itch\nI'm sick with it\nYou would never fly\nYou an ostri-i-ich\nBe on your back like a rash\nI'm the i-i-ish\nBankers bank is closed\nNo more scrilla for the ni-i-i\n? Wi-i-ife or his kids?\n\nChorus X4","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Ultimate Rush\n  artist: Saukrates, Heltah Skeltah\n  album: The Underground Tapes\n  duration_ms: 184000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  *The Ultimate MC Rush\"\n\n  (Rock)\n  Hi\n  Alcatraz\n  Some call him Rock, yo\n  One shot'll make ya jump like House of Pain or Kriss Kross\n  Playing hop scotch\n  I got the? marks? baby\n  Even when I was small I still get crazy hard like a 380\n  And I hate these fakin MC's\n  Please\n  Flee before your temperature drop more degrees\n  Than a five percenter\n  Dressed in a young ass jacket\n  In the winter boy\n  Don't end up in a casket for this rap shit.\n\n  (Ruck)\n  Behold the pale horse\n  I see death in your future\n  When thoughts connect\n  Its best to step before I shoot ya\n  Back in the days I knew Ruck would rock\n  Couldn't wait that long so I jacked Michael J. Fox\n  Since the death of the DeLorean\n  I been best performing in\n  Coliseums, and stadiums\n  Holdin in? more? palladiums\n  Ain't no funny vibe from this 25 year old\n  Ultimate MC test me if ya bold\n\n  (Chorus)\n  The ultimate MC rush (X4)\n\n  (Saukrates)\n  Demonstrate on street ruckus with my nouns and verbs\n  Hated the real mahfuckers with the thirst for words\n  Meditate with me dude\n  Alone in my own zone\n  Come and get high\n  My shits homegrown\n  Bionic, hydroponics\n  I rap\n  Till I'm blue like Sonic\n  Delivery's monotonic\n  But my style rocks the phonic\n  I hate to say it\n  But you're weak and your styles prosaic\n  If rhyming was fighting I'd be Tyson\n  And all y'all niggas better flee\n  Cause right now you're running with Spinks\n  Cause you're weak son\n  I take my time to teach one\n  Of the meek ones, who reach one\n  Illamatic rap addict\n  On some death of Caesar dramatics\n  Its never fluke yo, so don't panic\n  You could go to any other planet\n  In any weather you could run\n  But can't run forever\n  So whatever.\n\n  Chorus X4\n\n  (Singing)\n  You'll admit\n  Y'all niggas can't compete\n  With my manuscript\n\n  (Saukrates)\n  I'm the muthafuckin pimp the microphone is my bi-i-itch\n  And you the john about to make a nigga ri-i-ich\n  Now get with this funk arithmetic\n  If you outside make a swi-i-itch\n  And step inside the aby-y-ys\n  Nigga come ill, don't tri-i-ip\n  Say it again\n  You the john about to make this nigga ri-i-ich\n  Man, my finger puppet hard to resi-i-ist\n  Find your niche, nigga hold that\n  My trigger finger starts to i-i-itch\n\n  (Singing)\n  Digging your ditch\n\n  (Saukrates)\n  I'm on the mound with butane fireball\n  Better duck the wild pi-i-itch\n  I'm sick with it\n  You would never fly\n  You an ostri-i-ich\n  Be on your back like a rash\n  I'm the i-i-ish\n  Bankers bank is closed\n  No more scrilla for the ni-i-i\n  ? Wi-i-ife or his kids?\n\n  Chorus X4\n"},{"id":28816241,"name":"Ultimate Rush (feat. Heltah Skeltah)","trackName":"Ultimate Rush (feat. Heltah Skeltah)","artistName":"Saukrates","albumName":"The Underground Tapes","duration":182.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Hi, Alcatraz, who dat? Some call him Rock, yup\nOne shot'll make you jump like House of\nPain and Kriss Kross playin hopscotch\nI got the mosh baby\nEven when I was small, I still hit crazy hard like a three-eighty\nAnd I hate these fakin MC's, please\nFlee, 'fore your temperature drop mo' degrees\nThan a bopper sinner, dressed in a young ass jacket in the winter\nBoy don't end up in a casket for this rap shit\n\nBehold the pale horse, I see death in your future\nWhen thoughts connect, it's best to step 'fore I shoot ya\nBack in the days I knew Ruck would rock\nCouldn't wait that long so I jacked Michael J. Fox\nSince the theft of the Delorean, I've been best performin in\nColiseums and stadiums, holdin a row for lady-em's\nAin't no funny vibe from this twenty-five year old\nUltimate MC, test me if ya bold\n\nThe, the, the Ultimate MC\nThe, the Ultimate MC\nThe, the, the Ultimate MC\nThe, the Ultimate MC\n\nDemonstrate the street ruckus with my nouns and verbs\nCater to real muh'fuckers with a thirst for words\nMeditate with me dude, alone in my own zone\nCome and get high, my shit's homegrown\nBionic, hydroponics, I rap 'til I'm blue like Sonic\nDelivery's monotonic, but my style's octophonic\nI hate to say it, but you're weak and your style's prosaic\nMan, if rhymin was fightin, I'd be Tyson\nAnd all y'all niggas better think\nCause right now y'all's runnin with Sphinx\nCause you're weak, son, I take my time to teach one\nOf the meek ones, and reach one\nIllamatic rap addict, on some death of Caesar dramatics\nIt's never fluke yo, so don't panic\nYou could go to any other planet\nIn any weather, you can run but can't run forever, so whatever\n\nThe, the, the Ultimate MC\nThe, the Ultimate MC\nThe, the, the Ultimate MC\nThe, the Ultimate MC\n\nI'm the motherfuckin pimp, the microphone is my bi-i-itch\nAnd you the John I'm bout to make a nigga ri-i-ich\nNow get with this funk arithmetic\nIf you outside, make a swi-i-itch\nAnd step inside the abi-i-ist\nNigga come ill, don't tri-i-ip\nSay it again, you the John I'm bout to make this nigga ri-i-ich\nMan my finger puppet hard to resi-i-ist\nFind your niche, nigga hold that\nMy trigger finger start to i-i-itch\n(Diggin your ditch!)\nI'm on the mound with a butane fireball\nBetter duck, the wild pi-i-itch, I'm sick with it\nYou are never fly, you an ostrich-ich, uhh\nBe on your back like a rash, I'm the i-i-ish\nBankers make us close on my scrilla for the ni-ni-nick\nWig-wig-wig, what?\n\nThe, the, the Ultimate MC\nThe, the Ultimate MC\nThe, the, the Ultimate MC\nThe, the Ultimate MC","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Ultimate Rush (feat. Heltah Skeltah)\n  artist: Saukrates\n  album: The Underground Tapes\n  duration_ms: 182000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Hi, Alcatraz, who dat? Some call him Rock, yup\n  One shot'll make you jump like House of\n  Pain and Kriss Kross playin hopscotch\n  I got the mosh baby\n  Even when I was small, I still hit crazy hard like a three-eighty\n  And I hate these fakin MC's, please\n  Flee, 'fore your temperature drop mo' degrees\n  Than a bopper sinner, dressed in a young ass jacket in the winter\n  Boy don't end up in a casket for this rap shit\n\n  Behold the pale horse, I see death in your future\n  When thoughts connect, it's best to step 'fore I shoot ya\n  Back in the days I knew Ruck would rock\n  Couldn't wait that long so I jacked Michael J. Fox\n  Since the theft of the Delorean, I've been best performin in\n  Coliseums and stadiums, holdin a row for lady-em's\n  Ain't no funny vibe from this twenty-five year old\n  Ultimate MC, test me if ya bold\n\n  The, the, the Ultimate MC\n  The, the Ultimate MC\n  The, the, the Ultimate MC\n  The, the Ultimate MC\n\n  Demonstrate the street ruckus with my nouns and verbs\n  Cater to real muh'fuckers with a thirst for words\n  Meditate with me dude, alone in my own zone\n  Come and get high, my shit's homegrown\n  Bionic, hydroponics, I rap 'til I'm blue like Sonic\n  Delivery's monotonic, but my style's octophonic\n  I hate to say it, but you're weak and your style's prosaic\n  Man, if rhymin was fightin, I'd be Tyson\n  And all y'all niggas better think\n  Cause right now y'all's runnin with Sphinx\n  Cause you're weak, son, I take my time to teach one\n  Of the meek ones, and reach one\n  Illamatic rap addict, on some death of Caesar dramatics\n  It's never fluke yo, so don't panic\n  You could go to any other planet\n  In any weather, you can run but can't run forever, so whatever\n\n  The, the, the Ultimate MC\n  The, the Ultimate MC\n  The, the, the Ultimate MC\n  The, the Ultimate MC\n\n  I'm the motherfuckin pimp, the microphone is my bi-i-itch\n  And you the John I'm bout to make a nigga ri-i-ich\n  Now get with this funk arithmetic\n  If you outside, make a swi-i-itch\n  And step inside the abi-i-ist\n  Nigga come ill, don't tri-i-ip\n  Say it again, you the John I'm bout to make this nigga ri-i-ich\n  Man my finger puppet hard to resi-i-ist\n  Find your niche, nigga hold that\n  My trigger finger start to i-i-itch\n  (Diggin your ditch!)\n  I'm on the mound with a butane fireball\n  Better duck, the wild pi-i-itch, I'm sick with it\n  You are never fly, you an ostrich-ich, uhh\n  Be on your back like a rash, I'm the i-i-ish\n  Bankers make us close on my scrilla for the ni-ni-nick\n  Wig-wig-wig, what?\n\n  The, the, the Ultimate MC\n  The, the Ultimate MC\n  The, the, the Ultimate MC\n  The, the Ultimate MC\n"},{"id":28464320,"name":"Ultimate Rush (feat. Heltah Skeltah)","trackName":"Ultimate Rush (feat. Heltah Skeltah)","artistName":"Saukrates","albumName":"The Underground Tapes","duration":184.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Hi, Alcatraz, who dat? Some call him Rock, yup\nOne shot'll make you jump like House of\nPain and Kriss Kross playin hopscotch\nI got the mosh baby\nEven when I was small, I still hit crazy hard like a three-eighty\nAnd I hate these fakin MC's, please\nFlee, 'fore your temperature drop mo' degrees\nThan a bopper sinner, dressed in a young ass jacket in the winter\nBoy don't end up in a casket for this rap shit\n\nBehold the pale horse, I see death in your future\nWhen thoughts connect, it's best to step 'fore I shoot ya\nBack in the days I knew Ruck would rock\nCouldn't wait that long so I jacked Michael J. Fox\nSince the theft of the Delorean, I've been best performin in\nColiseums and stadiums, holdin a row for lady-em's\nAin't no funny vibe from this twenty-five year old\nUltimate MC, test me if ya bold\n\nThe, the, the Ultimate MC\nThe, the Ultimate MC\nThe, the, the Ultimate MC\nThe, the Ultimate MC\n\nDemonstrate the street ruckus with my nouns and verbs\nCater to real muh'fuckers with a thirst for words\nMeditate with me dude, alone in my own zone\nCome and get high, my shit's homegrown\nBionic, hydroponics, I rap 'til I'm blue like Sonic\nDelivery's monotonic, but my style's octophonic\nI hate to say it, but you're weak and your style's prosaic\nMan, if rhymin was fightin, I'd be Tyson\nAnd all y'all niggas better think\nCause right now y'all's runnin with Sphinx\nCause you're weak, son, I take my time to teach one\nOf the meek ones, and reach one\nIllamatic rap addict, on some death of Caesar dramatics\nIt's never fluke yo, so don't panic\nYou could go to any other planet\nIn any weather, you can run but can't run forever, so whatever\n\nThe, the, the Ultimate MC\nThe, the Ultimate MC\nThe, the, the Ultimate MC\nThe, the Ultimate MC\n\nI'm the motherfuckin pimp, the microphone is my bi-i-itch\nAnd you the John I'm bout to make a nigga ri-i-ich\nNow get with this funk arithmetic\nIf you outside, make a swi-i-itch\nAnd step inside the abi-i-ist\nNigga come ill, don't tri-i-ip\nSay it again, you the John I'm bout to make this nigga ri-i-ich\nMan my finger puppet hard to resi-i-ist\nFind your niche, nigga hold that\nMy trigger finger start to i-i-itch\n(Diggin your ditch!)\nI'm on the mound with a butane fireball\nBetter duck, the wild pi-i-itch, I'm sick with it\nYou are never fly, you an ostrich-ich, uhh\nBe on your back like a rash, I'm the i-i-ish\nBankers make us close on my scrilla for the ni-ni-nick\nWig-wig-wig, what?\n\nThe, the, the Ultimate MC\nThe, the Ultimate MC\nThe, the, the Ultimate MC\nThe, the Ultimate MC","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Ultimate Rush (feat. Heltah Skeltah)\n  artist: Saukrates\n  album: The Underground Tapes\n  duration_ms: 184000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Hi, Alcatraz, who dat? Some call him Rock, yup\n  One shot'll make you jump like House of\n  Pain and Kriss Kross playin hopscotch\n  I got the mosh baby\n  Even when I was small, I still hit crazy hard like a three-eighty\n  And I hate these fakin MC's, please\n  Flee, 'fore your temperature drop mo' degrees\n  Than a bopper sinner, dressed in a young ass jacket in the winter\n  Boy don't end up in a casket for this rap shit\n\n  Behold the pale horse, I see death in your future\n  When thoughts connect, it's best to step 'fore I shoot ya\n  Back in the days I knew Ruck would rock\n  Couldn't wait that long so I jacked Michael J. Fox\n  Since the theft of the Delorean, I've been best performin in\n  Coliseums and stadiums, holdin a row for lady-em's\n  Ain't no funny vibe from this twenty-five year old\n  Ultimate MC, test me if ya bold\n\n  The, the, the Ultimate MC\n  The, the Ultimate MC\n  The, the, the Ultimate MC\n  The, the Ultimate MC\n\n  Demonstrate the street ruckus with my nouns and verbs\n  Cater to real muh'fuckers with a thirst for words\n  Meditate with me dude, alone in my own zone\n  Come and get high, my shit's homegrown\n  Bionic, hydroponics, I rap 'til I'm blue like Sonic\n  Delivery's monotonic, but my style's octophonic\n  I hate to say it, but you're weak and your style's prosaic\n  Man, if rhymin was fightin, I'd be Tyson\n  And all y'all niggas better think\n  Cause right now y'all's runnin with Sphinx\n  Cause you're weak, son, I take my time to teach one\n  Of the meek ones, and reach one\n  Illamatic rap addict, on some death of Caesar dramatics\n  It's never fluke yo, so don't panic\n  You could go to any other planet\n  In any weather, you can run but can't run forever, so whatever\n\n  The, the, the Ultimate MC\n  The, the Ultimate MC\n  The, the, the Ultimate MC\n  The, the Ultimate MC\n\n  I'm the motherfuckin pimp, the microphone is my bi-i-itch\n  And you the John I'm bout to make a nigga ri-i-ich\n  Now get with this funk arithmetic\n  If you outside, make a swi-i-itch\n  And step inside the abi-i-ist\n  Nigga come ill, don't tri-i-ip\n  Say it again, you the John I'm bout to make this nigga ri-i-ich\n  Man my finger puppet hard to resi-i-ist\n  Find your niche, nigga hold that\n  My trigger finger start to i-i-itch\n  (Diggin your ditch!)\n  I'm on the mound with a butane fireball\n  Better duck, the wild pi-i-itch, I'm sick with it\n  You are never fly, you an ostrich-ich, uhh\n  Be on your back like a rash, I'm the i-i-ish\n  Bankers make us close on my scrilla for the ni-ni-nick\n  Wig-wig-wig, what?\n\n  The, the, the Ultimate MC\n  The, the Ultimate MC\n  The, the, the Ultimate MC\n  The, the Ultimate MC\n"},{"id":32036536,"name":"Ultimate Rush","trackName":"Ultimate Rush","artistName":"Saukrates feat. Heltah Skeltah","albumName":"The Underground Tapes","duration":183.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Hi, Alcatraz, who dat? Some call him Rock, yup\nOne shot'll make you jump like House of\nPain and Kriss Kross playin hopscotch\nI got the mosh baby\nEven when I was small, I still hit crazy hard like a three-eighty\nAnd I hate these fakin MC's, please\nFlee, 'fore your temperature drop mo' degrees\nThan a bopper sinner, dressed in a young ass jacket in the winter\nBoy don't end up in a casket for this rap shit\n\nBehold the pale horse, I see death in your future\nWhen thoughts connect, it's best to step 'fore I shoot ya\nBack in the days I knew Ruck would rock\nCouldn't wait that long so I jacked Michael J. Fox\nSince the theft of the Delorean, I've been best performin in\nColiseums and stadiums, holdin a row for lady-em's\nAin't no funny vibe from this twenty-five year old\nUltimate MC, test me if ya bold\n\nThe, the, the Ultimate MC\nThe, the Ultimate MC\nThe, the, the Ultimate MC\nThe, the Ultimate MC\n\nDemonstrate the street ruckus with my nouns and verbs\nCater to real muh'fuckers with a thirst for words\nMeditate with me dude, alone in my own zone\nCome and get high, my shit's homegrown\nBionic, hydroponics, I rap 'til I'm blue like Sonic\nDelivery's monotonic, but my style's octophonic\nI hate to say it, but you're weak and your style's prosaic\nMan, if rhymin was fightin, I'd be Tyson\nAnd all y'all niggas better think\nCause right now y'all's runnin with Sphinx\nCause you're weak, son, I take my time to teach one\nOf the meek ones, and reach one\nIllamatic rap addict, on some death of Caesar dramatics\nIt's never fluke yo, so don't panic\nYou could go to any other planet\nIn any weather, you can run but can't run forever, so whatever\n\nThe, the, the Ultimate MC\nThe, the Ultimate MC\nThe, the, the Ultimate MC\nThe, the Ultimate MC\n\nI'm the motherfuckin pimp, the microphone is my bi-i-itch\nAnd you the John I'm bout to make a nigga ri-i-ich\nNow get with this funk arithmetic\nIf you outside, make a swi-i-itch\nAnd step inside the abi-i-ist\nNigga come ill, don't tri-i-ip\nSay it again, you the John I'm bout to make this nigga ri-i-ich\nMan my finger puppet hard to resi-i-ist\nFind your niche, nigga hold that\nMy trigger finger start to i-i-itch\n(Diggin your ditch!)\nI'm on the mound with a butane fireball\nBetter duck, the wild pi-i-itch, I'm sick with it\nYou are never fly, you an ostrich-ich, uhh\nBe on your back like a rash, I'm the i-i-ish\nBankers make us close on my scrilla for the ni-ni-nick\nWig-wig-wig, what?\n\nThe, the, the Ultimate MC\nThe, the Ultimate MC\nThe, the, the Ultimate MC\nThe, the Ultimate MC","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Ultimate Rush\n  artist: Saukrates feat. Heltah Skeltah\n  album: The Underground Tapes\n  duration_ms: 183000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Hi, Alcatraz, who dat? Some call him Rock, yup\n  One shot'll make you jump like House of\n  Pain and Kriss Kross playin hopscotch\n  I got the mosh baby\n  Even when I was small, I still hit crazy hard like a three-eighty\n  And I hate these fakin MC's, please\n  Flee, 'fore your temperature drop mo' degrees\n  Than a bopper sinner, dressed in a young ass jacket in the winter\n  Boy don't end up in a casket for this rap shit\n\n  Behold the pale horse, I see death in your future\n  When thoughts connect, it's best to step 'fore I shoot ya\n  Back in the days I knew Ruck would rock\n  Couldn't wait that long so I jacked Michael J. Fox\n  Since the theft of the Delorean, I've been best performin in\n  Coliseums and stadiums, holdin a row for lady-em's\n  Ain't no funny vibe from this twenty-five year old\n  Ultimate MC, test me if ya bold\n\n  The, the, the Ultimate MC\n  The, the Ultimate MC\n  The, the, the Ultimate MC\n  The, the Ultimate MC\n\n  Demonstrate the street ruckus with my nouns and verbs\n  Cater to real muh'fuckers with a thirst for words\n  Meditate with me dude, alone in my own zone\n  Come and get high, my shit's homegrown\n  Bionic, hydroponics, I rap 'til I'm blue like Sonic\n  Delivery's monotonic, but my style's octophonic\n  I hate to say it, but you're weak and your style's prosaic\n  Man, if rhymin was fightin, I'd be Tyson\n  And all y'all niggas better think\n  Cause right now y'all's runnin with Sphinx\n  Cause you're weak, son, I take my time to teach one\n  Of the meek ones, and reach one\n  Illamatic rap addict, on some death of Caesar dramatics\n  It's never fluke yo, so don't panic\n  You could go to any other planet\n  In any weather, you can run but can't run forever, so whatever\n\n  The, the, the Ultimate MC\n  The, the Ultimate MC\n  The, the, the Ultimate MC\n  The, the Ultimate MC\n\n  I'm the motherfuckin pimp, the microphone is my bi-i-itch\n  And you the John I'm bout to make a nigga ri-i-ich\n  Now get with this funk arithmetic\n  If you outside, make a swi-i-itch\n  And step inside the abi-i-ist\n  Nigga come ill, don't tri-i-ip\n  Say it again, you the John I'm bout to make this nigga ri-i-ich\n  Man my finger puppet hard to resi-i-ist\n  Find your niche, nigga hold that\n  My trigger finger start to i-i-itch\n  (Diggin your ditch!)\n  I'm on the mound with a butane fireball\n  Better duck, the wild pi-i-itch, I'm sick with it\n  You are never fly, you an ostrich-ich, uhh\n  Be on your back like a rash, I'm the i-i-ish\n  Bankers make us close on my scrilla for the ni-ni-nick\n  Wig-wig-wig, what?\n\n  The, the, the Ultimate MC\n  The, the Ultimate MC\n  The, the, the Ultimate MC\n  The, the Ultimate MC\n"}]