[{"id":16978068,"name":"Fake Neptune","trackName":"Fake Neptune","artistName":"Sean Price / Buckshot / Steele / Louieville","albumName":"Monkey Barz","duration":214.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Ah, you see too hard for me\nAh, you see you hardly me\nDisrespect anyone, no pardon me\nAny time you set it off, you can start with me\n\nMeanwhile, nigga, back at the ranch\nSmokin' a spliff with this bitch trynna faster her pants\nP, off with the blouse, and off with the kangol\nVictoria Secret, bitch, Caribbean mango\nHer favorite song on Nocturnal, was Brainz Blo\nPut on my pants, if she can let the brains blow\nHeh, I had to find that funny\nLost my wallet, gotta find my money, bitch\nHow you gonna shit on me?\nAfter I let you shit on me, freaky deaky\nNowadays I had it up to here\nDon't make me fuck around and cut your hair, listen\nAll things Sean Price, four wings, fried rice\nNigga, duck sauce, who the fuck the boss?\nYo, ask me no questions, I tell you no lie\nUnless the judge is wack and the jury is jive\nUh, old school style, Furious Five\nGet my man Grandmaster Caz, to snuff ya ass\nOn a, world tour, with Muhammed, my man\nIn a piece of shit truck, smelling like vomit and ham\n\nAnd when the coochie smell bad, but the shorty look good\nWhat the fuck a nigga suppose to say, tell me\nIf I like to do a little rap, put money on stacks\nTell me how a nigga suppose to get get paid\nWait a minute, now you mean to tell me, I'm stuck in this shit\nRappers either bending over or riding dicks\nCheck 'em, down and dirty niggaz stuck in the ditch\nThe realest in the myst, tuckin' a fifth, ohh\n\nIt's like a switch from Crys' to Molt Liquor and\nColt 45, on the hittin' hand sittin'\nIf you can't stand the heat, get out the kitchen\nIt's either you with you, or you all around bitching\nPop pop, what happened to that boy?\nHe got popped, got rocked by a real mccoy\nI was fucking his broad, she was feeling joyced\nShe said; let's go have one a girl or boy\nI said; not me to copy, have you talking crazy\nYou cool and all but I pass, baby baby\nTo all my Queensmen and Brookmen\nCrooked men, if you ever looked out, then good looking\nA nigga pray that we stay away from the bookers\nCuz any kid get locked up, to another Brooklyn\nAvenues and streets, boulevards I creep\nUntil every fucking dollar bill meet, yo\n\nYo, alotta niggaz rhyme, some of y'all nice\nSome sound the same, but not Sean Price\nThe O.D.B., and the B.C.C\nI'm David Ruffin, say when it's nothing, no\nNeed for acceptance, no need for applause\nAll you need is a gause, when you bleeding, ofcourse\nOf course, I ain't playin' no more\nFuck holding back, fuck what I'm saving it for\nGet busy, bisexual burners, both ways with the biscuit\nHit, niggaz and bitches, and occasionally infants\nYo, save it man, tricks are for kids, bitch, David Blaine","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Fake Neptune\n  artist: Sean Price / Buckshot / Steele / Louieville\n  album: Monkey Barz\n  duration_ms: 214000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Ah, you see too hard for me\n  Ah, you see you hardly me\n  Disrespect anyone, no pardon me\n  Any time you set it off, you can start with me\n\n  Meanwhile, nigga, back at the ranch\n  Smokin' a spliff with this bitch trynna faster her pants\n  P, off with the blouse, and off with the kangol\n  Victoria Secret, bitch, Caribbean mango\n  Her favorite song on Nocturnal, was Brainz Blo\n  Put on my pants, if she can let the brains blow\n  Heh, I had to find that funny\n  Lost my wallet, gotta find my money, bitch\n  How you gonna shit on me?\n  After I let you shit on me, freaky deaky\n  Nowadays I had it up to here\n  Don't make me fuck around and cut your hair, listen\n  All things Sean Price, four wings, fried rice\n  Nigga, duck sauce, who the fuck the boss?\n  Yo, ask me no questions, I tell you no lie\n  Unless the judge is wack and the jury is jive\n  Uh, old school style, Furious Five\n  Get my man Grandmaster Caz, to snuff ya ass\n  On a, world tour, with Muhammed, my man\n  In a piece of shit truck, smelling like vomit and ham\n\n  And when the coochie smell bad, but the shorty look good\n  What the fuck a nigga suppose to say, tell me\n  If I like to do a little rap, put money on stacks\n  Tell me how a nigga suppose to get get paid\n  Wait a minute, now you mean to tell me, I'm stuck in this shit\n  Rappers either bending over or riding dicks\n  Check 'em, down and dirty niggaz stuck in the ditch\n  The realest in the myst, tuckin' a fifth, ohh\n\n  It's like a switch from Crys' to Molt Liquor and\n  Colt 45, on the hittin' hand sittin'\n  If you can't stand the heat, get out the kitchen\n  It's either you with you, or you all around bitching\n  Pop pop, what happened to that boy?\n  He got popped, got rocked by a real mccoy\n  I was fucking his broad, she was feeling joyced\n  She said; let's go have one a girl or boy\n  I said; not me to copy, have you talking crazy\n  You cool and all but I pass, baby baby\n  To all my Queensmen and Brookmen\n  Crooked men, if you ever looked out, then good looking\n  A nigga pray that we stay away from the bookers\n  Cuz any kid get locked up, to another Brooklyn\n  Avenues and streets, boulevards I creep\n  Until every fucking dollar bill meet, yo\n\n  Yo, alotta niggaz rhyme, some of y'all nice\n  Some sound the same, but not Sean Price\n  The O.D.B., and the B.C.C\n  I'm David Ruffin, say when it's nothing, no\n  Need for acceptance, no need for applause\n  All you need is a gause, when you bleeding, ofcourse\n  Of course, I ain't playin' no more\n  Fuck holding back, fuck what I'm saving it for\n  Get busy, bisexual burners, both ways with the biscuit\n  Hit, niggaz and bitches, and occasionally infants\n  Yo, save it man, tricks are for kids, bitch, David Blaine\n"},{"id":6273312,"name":"Fake Neptune","trackName":"Fake Neptune","artistName":"Sean Price feat. Buckshot, Steele, Louieville","albumName":"Monkey Barz","duration":214.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Ah, you see too hard for me\nAh, you see you hardly me\nDisrespect anyone, no pardon me\nAny time you set it off, you can start with me\n\nMeanwhile, nigga, back at the ranch\nSmokin' a spliff with this bitch trynna faster her pants\nP, off with the blouse, and off with the kangol\nVictoria Secret, bitch, Caribbean mango\nHer favorite song on Nocturnal, was Brainz Blo\nPut on my pants, if she can let the brains blow\nHeh, I had to find that funny\nLost my wallet, gotta find my money, bitch\nHow you gonna shit on me?\nAfter I let you shit on me, freaky deaky\nNowadays I had it up to here\nDon't make me fuck around and cut your hair, listen\nAll things Sean Price, four wings, fried rice\nNigga, duck sauce, who the fuck the boss?\nYo, ask me no questions, I tell you no lie\nUnless the judge is wack and the jury is jive\nUh, old school style, Furious Five\nGet my man Grandmaster Caz, to snuff ya ass\nOn a, world tour, with Muhammed, my man\nIn a piece of shit truck, smelling like vomit and ham\n\nAnd when the coochie smell bad, but the shorty look good\nWhat the fuck a nigga suppose to say, tell me\nIf I like to do a little rap, put money on stacks\nTell me how a nigga suppose to get get paid\nWait a minute, now you mean to tell me, I'm stuck in this shit\nRappers either bending over or riding dicks\nCheck 'em, down and dirty niggaz stuck in the ditch\nThe realest in the myst, tuckin' a fifth, ohh\n\nIt's like a switch from Crys' to Molt Liquor and\nColt 45, on the hittin' hand sittin'\nIf you can't stand the heat, get out the kitchen\nIt's either you with you, or you all around bitching\nPop pop, what happened to that boy?\nHe got popped, got rocked by a real mccoy\nI was fucking his broad, she was feeling joyced\nShe said; let's go have one a girl or boy\nI said; not me to copy, have you talking crazy\nYou cool and all but I pass, baby baby\nTo all my Queensmen and Brookmen\nCrooked men, if you ever looked out, then good looking\nA nigga pray that we stay away from the bookers\nCuz any kid get locked up, to another Brooklyn\nAvenues and streets, boulevards I creep\nUntil every fucking dollar bill meet, yo\n\nYo, alotta niggaz rhyme, some of y'all nice\nSome sound the same, but not Sean Price\nThe O.D.B., and the B.C.C\nI'm David Ruffin, say when it's nothing, no\nNeed for acceptance, no need for applause\nAll you need is a gause, when you bleeding, ofcourse\nOf course, I ain't playin' no more\nFuck holding back, fuck what I'm saving it for\nGet busy, bisexual burners, both ways with the biscuit\nHit, niggaz and bitches, and occasionally infants\nYo, save it man, tricks are for kids, bitch, David Blaine","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.08] Ah, you see too hard for me\n[00:02.61] Ah, you see you hardly me\n[00:05.14] Disrespect anyone, no pardon me\n[00:07.42] Any time you set it off, you can start with me\n[00:20.51] Meanwhile, nigga, back at the ranch\n[00:23.86] Smokin' a spliff with this bitch trynna faster her pants\n[00:26.16] P, off with the blouse, and off with the kangol\n[00:29.05] Victoria Secret, bitch, Caribbean mango\n[00:31.51] Her favorite song on Nocturnal, was Brainz Blo\n[00:34.27] Put on my pants, if she can let the brains blow\n[00:36.82] Heh, I had to find that funny\n[00:39.49] Lost my wallet, gotta find my money, bitch\n[00:41.93] How you gonna shit on me?\n[00:44.42] After I let you shit on me, freaky deaky\n[00:46.27] Nowadays I had it up to here\n[00:49.69] Don't make me fuck around and cut your hair, listen\n[00:51.60] All things Sean Price, four wings, fried rice\n[00:54.61] Nigga, duck sauce, who the fuck the boss?\n[00:57.32] Yo, ask me no questions, I tell you no lie\n[00:59.82] Unless the judge is wack and the jury is jive\n[01:02.70] Uh, old school style, Furious Five\n[01:05.09] Get my man Grandmaster Caz, to snuff ya ass\n[01:07.56] On a, world tour, with Muhammed, my man\n[01:10.56] In a piece of shit truck, smelling like vomit and ham\n[01:12.84] And when the coochie smell bad, but the shorty look good\n[01:15.42] What the fuck a nigga suppose to say, tell me\n[01:18.07] If I like to do a little rap, put money on stacks\n[01:20.41] Tell me how a nigga suppose to get get paid\n[01:22.72] Wait a minute, now you mean to tell me, I'm stuck in this shit\n[01:25.54] Rappers either bending over or riding dicks\n[01:28.14] Check 'em, down and dirty niggaz stuck in the ditch\n[01:30.71] The realest in the myst, tuckin' a fifth, ohh\n[01:33.25] It's like a switch from Crys' to Molt Liquor and\n[01:35.98] Colt 45, on the hittin' hand sittin'\n[01:38.73] If you can't stand the heat, get out the kitchen\n[01:41.36] It's either you with you, or you all around bitching\n[01:43.85] Pop pop, what happened to that boy?\n[01:46.39] He got popped, got rocked by a real mccoy\n[01:48.82] I was fucking his broad, she was feeling joyced\n[01:51.36] She said; let's go have one a girl or boy\n[01:53.97] I said; not me to copy, have you talking crazy\n[01:56.85] You cool and all but I pass, baby baby\n[01:59.66] To all my Queensmen and Brookmen\n[02:03.10] Crooked men, if you ever looked out, then good looking\n[02:04.87] A nigga pray that we stay away from the bookers\n[02:07.33] Cuz any kid get locked up, to another Brooklyn\n[02:09.90] Avenues and streets, boulevards I creep\n[02:12.47] Until every fucking dollar bill meet, yo\n[02:36.26] Yo, alotta niggaz rhyme, some of y'all nice\n[02:38.22] Some sound the same, but not Sean Price\n[02:40.70] The O.D.B., and the B.C.C\n[02:42.95] I'm David Ruffin, say when it's nothing, no\n[02:45.81] Need for acceptance, no need for applause\n[02:48.07] All you need is a gause, when you bleeding, ofcourse\n[02:50.71] Of course, I ain't playin' no more\n[02:53.46] Fuck holding back, fuck what I'm saving it for\n[02:55.78] Get busy, bisexual burners, both ways with the biscuit\n[02:58.59] Hit, niggaz and bitches, and occasionally infants\n[03:01.37] Yo, save it man, tricks are for kids, bitch, David Blaine\n[03:32.00] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Fake Neptune\n  artist: Sean Price feat. Buckshot, Steele, Louieville\n  album: Monkey Barz\n  duration_ms: 214000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Ah, you see too hard for me\n  start_ms: 1080\n  end_ms: 2610\n- text: Ah, you see you hardly me\n  start_ms: 2610\n  end_ms: 5140\n- text: Disrespect anyone, no pardon me\n  start_ms: 5140\n  end_ms: 7420\n- text: Any time you set it off, you can start with me\n  start_ms: 7420\n  end_ms: 20510\n- text: Meanwhile, nigga, back at the ranch\n  start_ms: 20510\n  end_ms: 23860\n- text: Smokin' a spliff with this bitch trynna faster her pants\n  start_ms: 23860\n  end_ms: 26160\n- text: P, off with the blouse, and off with the kangol\n  start_ms: 26160\n  end_ms: 29050\n- text: Victoria Secret, bitch, Caribbean mango\n  start_ms: 29050\n  end_ms: 31510\n- text: Her favorite song on Nocturnal, was Brainz Blo\n  start_ms: 31510\n  end_ms: 34270\n- text: Put on my pants, if she can let the brains blow\n  start_ms: 34270\n  end_ms: 36820\n- text: Heh, I had to find that funny\n  start_ms: 36820\n  end_ms: 39490\n- text: Lost my wallet, gotta find my money, bitch\n  start_ms: 39490\n  end_ms: 41930\n- text: How you gonna shit on me?\n  start_ms: 41930\n  end_ms: 44420\n- text: After I let you shit on me, freaky deaky\n  start_ms: 44420\n  end_ms: 46270\n- text: Nowadays I had it up to here\n  start_ms: 46270\n  end_ms: 49690\n- text: Don't make me fuck around and cut your hair, listen\n  start_ms: 49690\n  end_ms: 51600\n- text: All things Sean Price, four wings, fried rice\n  start_ms: 51600\n  end_ms: 54610\n- text: Nigga, duck sauce, who the fuck the boss?\n  start_ms: 54610\n  end_ms: 57320\n- text: Yo, ask me no questions, I tell you no lie\n  start_ms: 57320\n  end_ms: 59820\n- text: Unless the judge is wack and the jury is jive\n  start_ms: 59820\n  end_ms: 62700\n- text: Uh, old school style, Furious Five\n  start_ms: 62700\n  end_ms: 65090\n- text: Get my man Grandmaster Caz, to snuff ya ass\n  start_ms: 65090\n  end_ms: 67560\n- text: On a, world tour, with Muhammed, my man\n  start_ms: 67560\n  end_ms: 70560\n- text: In a piece of shit truck, smelling like vomit and ham\n  start_ms: 70560\n  end_ms: 72840\n- text: And when the coochie smell bad, but the shorty look good\n  start_ms: 72840\n  end_ms: 75420\n- text: What the fuck a nigga suppose to say, tell me\n  start_ms: 75420\n  end_ms: 78070\n- text: If I like to do a little rap, put money on stacks\n  start_ms: 78070\n  end_ms: 80410\n- text: Tell me how a nigga suppose to get get paid\n  start_ms: 80410\n  end_ms: 82720\n- text: Wait a minute, now you mean to tell me, I'm stuck in this shit\n  start_ms: 82720\n  end_ms: 85540\n- text: Rappers either bending over or riding dicks\n  start_ms: 85540\n  end_ms: 88140\n- text: Check 'em, down and dirty niggaz stuck in the ditch\n  start_ms: 88140\n  end_ms: 90710\n- text: The realest in the myst, tuckin' a fifth, ohh\n  start_ms: 90710\n  end_ms: 93250\n- text: It's like a switch from Crys' to Molt Liquor and\n  start_ms: 93250\n  end_ms: 95980\n- text: Colt 45, on the hittin' hand sittin'\n  start_ms: 95980\n  end_ms: 98730\n- text: If you can't stand the heat, get out the kitchen\n  start_ms: 98730\n  end_ms: 101360\n- text: It's either you with you, or you all around bitching\n  start_ms: 101360\n  end_ms: 103850\n- text: Pop pop, what happened to that boy?\n  start_ms: 103850\n  end_ms: 106390\n- text: He got popped, got rocked by a real mccoy\n  start_ms: 106390\n  end_ms: 108820\n- text: I was fucking his broad, she was feeling joyced\n  start_ms: 108820\n  end_ms: 111360\n- text: She said; let's go have one a girl or boy\n  start_ms: 111360\n  end_ms: 113970\n- text: I said; not me to copy, have you talking crazy\n  start_ms: 113970\n  end_ms: 116850\n- text: You cool and all but I pass, baby baby\n  start_ms: 116850\n  end_ms: 119660\n- text: To all my Queensmen and Brookmen\n  start_ms: 119660\n  end_ms: 123100\n- text: Crooked men, if you ever looked out, then good looking\n  start_ms: 123100\n  end_ms: 124870\n- text: A nigga pray that we stay away from the bookers\n  start_ms: 124870\n  end_ms: 127330\n- text: Cuz any kid get locked up, to another Brooklyn\n  start_ms: 127330\n  end_ms: 129900\n- text: Avenues and streets, boulevards I creep\n  start_ms: 129900\n  end_ms: 132470\n- text: Until every fucking dollar bill meet, yo\n  start_ms: 132470\n  end_ms: 156260\n- text: Yo, alotta niggaz rhyme, some of y'all nice\n  start_ms: 156260\n  end_ms: 158220\n- text: Some sound the same, but not Sean Price\n  start_ms: 158220\n  end_ms: 160700\n- text: The O.D.B., and the B.C.C\n  start_ms: 160700\n  end_ms: 162950\n- text: I'm David Ruffin, say when it's nothing, no\n  start_ms: 162950\n  end_ms: 165810\n- text: Need for acceptance, no need for applause\n  start_ms: 165810\n  end_ms: 168070\n- text: All you need is a gause, when you bleeding, ofcourse\n  start_ms: 168070\n  end_ms: 170710\n- text: Of course, I ain't playin' no more\n  start_ms: 170710\n  end_ms: 173460\n- text: Fuck holding back, fuck what I'm saving it for\n  start_ms: 173460\n  end_ms: 175780\n- text: Get busy, bisexual burners, both ways with the biscuit\n  start_ms: 175780\n  end_ms: 178590\n- text: Hit, niggaz and bitches, and occasionally infants\n  start_ms: 178590\n  end_ms: 181370\n- text: Yo, save it man, tricks are for kids, bitch, David Blaine\n  start_ms: 181370\n  end_ms: 212000\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 212000\nplain: |-\n  Ah, you see too hard for me\n  Ah, you see you hardly me\n  Disrespect anyone, no pardon me\n  Any time you set it off, you can start with me\n\n  Meanwhile, nigga, back at the ranch\n  Smokin' a spliff with this bitch trynna faster her pants\n  P, off with the blouse, and off with the kangol\n  Victoria Secret, bitch, Caribbean mango\n  Her favorite song on Nocturnal, was Brainz Blo\n  Put on my pants, if she can let the brains blow\n  Heh, I had to find that funny\n  Lost my wallet, gotta find my money, bitch\n  How you gonna shit on me?\n  After I let you shit on me, freaky deaky\n  Nowadays I had it up to here\n  Don't make me fuck around and cut your hair, listen\n  All things Sean Price, four wings, fried rice\n  Nigga, duck sauce, who the fuck the boss?\n  Yo, ask me no questions, I tell you no lie\n  Unless the judge is wack and the jury is jive\n  Uh, old school style, Furious Five\n  Get my man Grandmaster Caz, to snuff ya ass\n  On a, world tour, with Muhammed, my man\n  In a piece of shit truck, smelling like vomit and ham\n\n  And when the coochie smell bad, but the shorty look good\n  What the fuck a nigga suppose to say, tell me\n  If I like to do a little rap, put money on stacks\n  Tell me how a nigga suppose to get get paid\n  Wait a minute, now you mean to tell me, I'm stuck in this shit\n  Rappers either bending over or riding dicks\n  Check 'em, down and dirty niggaz stuck in the ditch\n  The realest in the myst, tuckin' a fifth, ohh\n\n  It's like a switch from Crys' to Molt Liquor and\n  Colt 45, on the hittin' hand sittin'\n  If you can't stand the heat, get out the kitchen\n  It's either you with you, or you all around bitching\n  Pop pop, what happened to that boy?\n  He got popped, got rocked by a real mccoy\n  I was fucking his broad, she was feeling joyced\n  She said; let's go have one a girl or boy\n  I said; not me to copy, have you talking crazy\n  You cool and all but I pass, baby baby\n  To all my Queensmen and Brookmen\n  Crooked men, if you ever looked out, then good looking\n  A nigga pray that we stay away from the bookers\n  Cuz any kid get locked up, to another Brooklyn\n  Avenues and streets, boulevards I creep\n  Until every fucking dollar bill meet, yo\n\n  Yo, alotta niggaz rhyme, some of y'all nice\n  Some sound the same, but not Sean Price\n  The O.D.B., and the B.C.C\n  I'm David Ruffin, say when it's nothing, no\n  Need for acceptance, no need for applause\n  All you need is a gause, when you bleeding, ofcourse\n  Of course, I ain't playin' no more\n  Fuck holding back, fuck what I'm saving it for\n  Get busy, bisexual burners, both ways with the biscuit\n  Hit, niggaz and bitches, and occasionally infants\n  Yo, save it man, tricks are for kids, bitch, David Blaine\n"},{"id":12471925,"name":"Fake Neptune","trackName":"Fake Neptune","artistName":"Sean Price, Buckshot, Steele, Louieville Sluggah","albumName":"Monkey Barz","duration":214.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Ah, you see too hard for me\nAh, you see you hardly me\nDisrespect anyone, no pardon me\nAny time you set it off, you can start with me\n\nMeanwhile, nigga, back at the ranch\nSmokin' a spliff with this bitch trynna faster her pants\nP, off with the blouse, and off with the kangol\nVictoria Secret, bitch, Caribbean mango\nHer favorite song on Nocturnal, was Brainz Blo\nPut on my pants, if she can let the brains blow\nHeh, I had to find that funny\nLost my wallet, gotta find my money, bitch\nHow you gonna shit on me?\nAfter I let you shit on me, freaky deaky\nNowadays I had it up to here\nDon't make me fuck around and cut your hair, listen\nAll things Sean Price, four wings, fried rice\nNigga, duck sauce, who the fuck the boss?\nYo, ask me no questions, I tell you no lie\nUnless the judge is wack and the jury is jive\nUh, old school style, Furious Five\nGet my man Grandmaster Caz, to snuff ya ass\nOn a, world tour, with Muhammed, my man\nIn a piece of shit truck, smelling like vomit and ham\n\nAnd when the coochie smell bad, but the shorty look good\nWhat the fuck a nigga suppose to say, tell me\nIf I like to do a little rap, put money on stacks\nTell me how a nigga suppose to get get paid\nWait a minute, now you mean to tell me, I'm stuck in this shit\nRappers either bending over or riding dicks\nCheck 'em, down and dirty niggaz stuck in the ditch\nThe realest in the myst, tuckin' a fifth, ohh\n\nIt's like a switch from Crys' to Molt Liquor and\nColt 45, on the hittin' hand sittin'\nIf you can't stand the heat, get out the kitchen\nIt's either you with you, or you all around bitching\nPop pop, what happened to that boy?\nHe got popped, got rocked by a real mccoy\nI was fucking his broad, she was feeling joyced\nShe said; let's go have one a girl or boy\nI said; not me to copy, have you talking crazy\nYou cool and all but I pass, baby baby\nTo all my Queensmen and Brookmen\nCrooked men, if you ever looked out, then good looking\nA nigga pray that we stay away from the bookers\nCuz any kid get locked up, to another Brooklyn\nAvenues and streets, boulevards I creep\nUntil every fucking dollar bill meet, yo\n\nYo, alotta niggaz rhyme, some of y'all nice\nSome sound the same, but not Sean Price\nThe O.D.B., and the B.C.C\nI'm David Ruffin, say when it's nothing, no\nNeed for acceptance, no need for applause\nAll you need is a gause, when you bleeding, ofcourse\nOf course, I ain't playin' no more\nFuck holding back, fuck what I'm saving it for\nGet busy, bisexual burners, both ways with the biscuit\nHit, niggaz and bitches, and occasionally infants\nYo, save it man, tricks are for kids, bitch, David Blaine","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Fake Neptune\n  artist: Sean Price, Buckshot, Steele, Louieville Sluggah\n  album: Monkey Barz\n  duration_ms: 214000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Ah, you see too hard for me\n  Ah, you see you hardly me\n  Disrespect anyone, no pardon me\n  Any time you set it off, you can start with me\n\n  Meanwhile, nigga, back at the ranch\n  Smokin' a spliff with this bitch trynna faster her pants\n  P, off with the blouse, and off with the kangol\n  Victoria Secret, bitch, Caribbean mango\n  Her favorite song on Nocturnal, was Brainz Blo\n  Put on my pants, if she can let the brains blow\n  Heh, I had to find that funny\n  Lost my wallet, gotta find my money, bitch\n  How you gonna shit on me?\n  After I let you shit on me, freaky deaky\n  Nowadays I had it up to here\n  Don't make me fuck around and cut your hair, listen\n  All things Sean Price, four wings, fried rice\n  Nigga, duck sauce, who the fuck the boss?\n  Yo, ask me no questions, I tell you no lie\n  Unless the judge is wack and the jury is jive\n  Uh, old school style, Furious Five\n  Get my man Grandmaster Caz, to snuff ya ass\n  On a, world tour, with Muhammed, my man\n  In a piece of shit truck, smelling like vomit and ham\n\n  And when the coochie smell bad, but the shorty look good\n  What the fuck a nigga suppose to say, tell me\n  If I like to do a little rap, put money on stacks\n  Tell me how a nigga suppose to get get paid\n  Wait a minute, now you mean to tell me, I'm stuck in this shit\n  Rappers either bending over or riding dicks\n  Check 'em, down and dirty niggaz stuck in the ditch\n  The realest in the myst, tuckin' a fifth, ohh\n\n  It's like a switch from Crys' to Molt Liquor and\n  Colt 45, on the hittin' hand sittin'\n  If you can't stand the heat, get out the kitchen\n  It's either you with you, or you all around bitching\n  Pop pop, what happened to that boy?\n  He got popped, got rocked by a real mccoy\n  I was fucking his broad, she was feeling joyced\n  She said; let's go have one a girl or boy\n  I said; not me to copy, have you talking crazy\n  You cool and all but I pass, baby baby\n  To all my Queensmen and Brookmen\n  Crooked men, if you ever looked out, then good looking\n  A nigga pray that we stay away from the bookers\n  Cuz any kid get locked up, to another Brooklyn\n  Avenues and streets, boulevards I creep\n  Until every fucking dollar bill meet, yo\n\n  Yo, alotta niggaz rhyme, some of y'all nice\n  Some sound the same, but not Sean Price\n  The O.D.B., and the B.C.C\n  I'm David Ruffin, say when it's nothing, no\n  Need for acceptance, no need for applause\n  All you need is a gause, when you bleeding, ofcourse\n  Of course, I ain't playin' no more\n  Fuck holding back, fuck what I'm saving it for\n  Get busy, bisexual burners, both ways with the biscuit\n  Hit, niggaz and bitches, and occasionally infants\n  Yo, save it man, tricks are for kids, bitch, David Blaine\n"},{"id":10604486,"name":"Fake Neptune","trackName":"Fake Neptune","artistName":"Sean Price feat. Buckshot, Steele & Louieville Sluggah","albumName":"Monkey Barz","duration":214.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Ah, you see too hard for me\nAh, you see you hardly me\nDisrespect anyone, no pardon me\nAny time you set it off, you can start with me\n\nMeanwhile, nigga, back at the ranch\nSmokin' a spliff with this bitch trynna faster her pants\nP, off with the blouse, and off with the kangol\nVictoria Secret, bitch, Caribbean mango\nHer favorite song on Nocturnal, was Brainz Blo\nPut on my pants, if she can let the brains blow\nHeh, I had to find that funny\nLost my wallet, gotta find my money, bitch\nHow you gonna shit on me?\nAfter I let you shit on me, freaky deaky\nNowadays I had it up to here\nDon't make me fuck around and cut your hair, listen\nAll things Sean Price, four wings, fried rice\nNigga, duck sauce, who the fuck the boss?\nYo, ask me no questions, I tell you no lie\nUnless the judge is wack and the jury is jive\nUh, old school style, Furious Five\nGet my man Grandmaster Caz, to snuff ya ass\nOn a, world tour, with Muhammed, my man\nIn a piece of shit truck, smelling like vomit and ham\n\nAnd when the coochie smell bad, but the shorty look good\nWhat the fuck a nigga suppose to say, tell me\nIf I like to do a little rap, put money on stacks\nTell me how a nigga suppose to get get paid\nWait a minute, now you mean to tell me, I'm stuck in this shit\nRappers either bending over or riding dicks\nCheck 'em, down and dirty niggaz stuck in the ditch\nThe realest in the myst, tuckin' a fifth, ohh\n\nIt's like a switch from Crys' to Molt Liquor and\nColt 45, on the hittin' hand sittin'\nIf you can't stand the heat, get out the kitchen\nIt's either you with you, or you all around bitching\nPop pop, what happened to that boy?\nHe got popped, got rocked by a real mccoy\nI was fucking his broad, she was feeling joyced\nShe said; let's go have one a girl or boy\nI said; not me to copy, have you talking crazy\nYou cool and all but I pass, baby baby\nTo all my Queensmen and Brookmen\nCrooked men, if you ever looked out, then good looking\nA nigga pray that we stay away from the bookers\nCuz any kid get locked up, to another Brooklyn\nAvenues and streets, boulevards I creep\nUntil every fucking dollar bill meet, yo\n\nYo, alotta niggaz rhyme, some of y'all nice\nSome sound the same, but not Sean Price\nThe O.D.B., and the B.C.C\nI'm David Ruffin, say when it's nothing, no\nNeed for acceptance, no need for applause\nAll you need is a gause, when you bleeding, ofcourse\nOf course, I ain't playin' no more\nFuck holding back, fuck what I'm saving it for\nGet busy, bisexual burners, both ways with the biscuit\nHit, niggaz and bitches, and occasionally infants\nYo, save it man, tricks are for kids, bitch, David Blaine","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Fake Neptune\n  artist: Sean Price feat. Buckshot, Steele & Louieville Sluggah\n  album: Monkey Barz\n  duration_ms: 214000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Ah, you see too hard for me\n  Ah, you see you hardly me\n  Disrespect anyone, no pardon me\n  Any time you set it off, you can start with me\n\n  Meanwhile, nigga, back at the ranch\n  Smokin' a spliff with this bitch trynna faster her pants\n  P, off with the blouse, and off with the kangol\n  Victoria Secret, bitch, Caribbean mango\n  Her favorite song on Nocturnal, was Brainz Blo\n  Put on my pants, if she can let the brains blow\n  Heh, I had to find that funny\n  Lost my wallet, gotta find my money, bitch\n  How you gonna shit on me?\n  After I let you shit on me, freaky deaky\n  Nowadays I had it up to here\n  Don't make me fuck around and cut your hair, listen\n  All things Sean Price, four wings, fried rice\n  Nigga, duck sauce, who the fuck the boss?\n  Yo, ask me no questions, I tell you no lie\n  Unless the judge is wack and the jury is jive\n  Uh, old school style, Furious Five\n  Get my man Grandmaster Caz, to snuff ya ass\n  On a, world tour, with Muhammed, my man\n  In a piece of shit truck, smelling like vomit and ham\n\n  And when the coochie smell bad, but the shorty look good\n  What the fuck a nigga suppose to say, tell me\n  If I like to do a little rap, put money on stacks\n  Tell me how a nigga suppose to get get paid\n  Wait a minute, now you mean to tell me, I'm stuck in this shit\n  Rappers either bending over or riding dicks\n  Check 'em, down and dirty niggaz stuck in the ditch\n  The realest in the myst, tuckin' a fifth, ohh\n\n  It's like a switch from Crys' to Molt Liquor and\n  Colt 45, on the hittin' hand sittin'\n  If you can't stand the heat, get out the kitchen\n  It's either you with you, or you all around bitching\n  Pop pop, what happened to that boy?\n  He got popped, got rocked by a real mccoy\n  I was fucking his broad, she was feeling joyced\n  She said; let's go have one a girl or boy\n  I said; not me to copy, have you talking crazy\n  You cool and all but I pass, baby baby\n  To all my Queensmen and Brookmen\n  Crooked men, if you ever looked out, then good looking\n  A nigga pray that we stay away from the bookers\n  Cuz any kid get locked up, to another Brooklyn\n  Avenues and streets, boulevards I creep\n  Until every fucking dollar bill meet, yo\n\n  Yo, alotta niggaz rhyme, some of y'all nice\n  Some sound the same, but not Sean Price\n  The O.D.B., and the B.C.C\n  I'm David Ruffin, say when it's nothing, no\n  Need for acceptance, no need for applause\n  All you need is a gause, when you bleeding, ofcourse\n  Of course, I ain't playin' no more\n  Fuck holding back, fuck what I'm saving it for\n  Get busy, bisexual burners, both ways with the biscuit\n  Hit, niggaz and bitches, and occasionally infants\n  Yo, save it man, tricks are for kids, bitch, David Blaine\n"},{"id":6273313,"name":"Fake Neptune (feat. Buckshot, Steele, Louieville)","trackName":"Fake Neptune (feat. Buckshot, Steele, Louieville)","artistName":"Sean Price","albumName":"Monkey Barz","duration":214.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Ah, you see too hard for me\nAh, you see you hardly me\nDisrespect anyone, no pardon me\nAny time you set it off, you can start with me\n\nMeanwhile, nigga, back at the ranch\nSmokin' a spliff with this bitch trynna faster her pants\nP, off with the blouse, and off with the kangol\nVictoria Secret, bitch, Caribbean mango\nHer favorite song on Nocturnal, was Brainz Blo\nPut on my pants, if she can let the brains blow\nHeh, I had to find that funny\nLost my wallet, gotta find my money, bitch\nHow you gonna shit on me?\nAfter I let you shit on me, freaky deaky\nNowadays I had it up to here\nDon't make me fuck around and cut your hair, listen\nAll things Sean Price, four wings, fried rice\nNigga, duck sauce, who the fuck the boss?\nYo, ask me no questions, I tell you no lie\nUnless the judge is wack and the jury is jive\nUh, old school style, Furious Five\nGet my man Grandmaster Caz, to snuff ya ass\nOn a, world tour, with Muhammed, my man\nIn a piece of shit truck, smelling like vomit and ham\n\nAnd when the coochie smell bad, but the shorty look good\nWhat the fuck a nigga suppose to say, tell me\nIf I like to do a little rap, put money on stacks\nTell me how a nigga suppose to get get paid\nWait a minute, now you mean to tell me, I'm stuck in this shit\nRappers either bending over or riding dicks\nCheck 'em, down and dirty niggaz stuck in the ditch\nThe realest in the myst, tuckin' a fifth, ohh\n\nIt's like a switch from Crys' to Molt Liquor and\nColt 45, on the hittin' hand sittin'\nIf you can't stand the heat, get out the kitchen\nIt's either you with you, or you all around bitching\nPop pop, what happened to that boy?\nHe got popped, got rocked by a real mccoy\nI was fucking his broad, she was feeling joyced\nShe said; let's go have one a girl or boy\nI said; not me to copy, have you talking crazy\nYou cool and all but I pass, baby baby\nTo all my Queensmen and Brookmen\nCrooked men, if you ever looked out, then good looking\nA nigga pray that we stay away from the bookers\nCuz any kid get locked up, to another Brooklyn\nAvenues and streets, boulevards I creep\nUntil every fucking dollar bill meet, yo\n\nYo, alotta niggaz rhyme, some of y'all nice\nSome sound the same, but not Sean Price\nThe O.D.B., and the B.C.C\nI'm David Ruffin, say when it's nothing, no\nNeed for acceptance, no need for applause\nAll you need is a gause, when you bleeding, ofcourse\nOf course, I ain't playin' no more\nFuck holding back, fuck what I'm saving it for\nGet busy, bisexual burners, both ways with the biscuit\nHit, niggaz and bitches, and occasionally infants\nYo, save it man, tricks are for kids, bitch, David Blaine","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Fake Neptune (feat. Buckshot, Steele, Louieville)\n  artist: Sean Price\n  album: Monkey Barz\n  duration_ms: 214000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Ah, you see too hard for me\n  Ah, you see you hardly me\n  Disrespect anyone, no pardon me\n  Any time you set it off, you can start with me\n\n  Meanwhile, nigga, back at the ranch\n  Smokin' a spliff with this bitch trynna faster her pants\n  P, off with the blouse, and off with the kangol\n  Victoria Secret, bitch, Caribbean mango\n  Her favorite song on Nocturnal, was Brainz Blo\n  Put on my pants, if she can let the brains blow\n  Heh, I had to find that funny\n  Lost my wallet, gotta find my money, bitch\n  How you gonna shit on me?\n  After I let you shit on me, freaky deaky\n  Nowadays I had it up to here\n  Don't make me fuck around and cut your hair, listen\n  All things Sean Price, four wings, fried rice\n  Nigga, duck sauce, who the fuck the boss?\n  Yo, ask me no questions, I tell you no lie\n  Unless the judge is wack and the jury is jive\n  Uh, old school style, Furious Five\n  Get my man Grandmaster Caz, to snuff ya ass\n  On a, world tour, with Muhammed, my man\n  In a piece of shit truck, smelling like vomit and ham\n\n  And when the coochie smell bad, but the shorty look good\n  What the fuck a nigga suppose to say, tell me\n  If I like to do a little rap, put money on stacks\n  Tell me how a nigga suppose to get get paid\n  Wait a minute, now you mean to tell me, I'm stuck in this shit\n  Rappers either bending over or riding dicks\n  Check 'em, down and dirty niggaz stuck in the ditch\n  The realest in the myst, tuckin' a fifth, ohh\n\n  It's like a switch from Crys' to Molt Liquor and\n  Colt 45, on the hittin' hand sittin'\n  If you can't stand the heat, get out the kitchen\n  It's either you with you, or you all around bitching\n  Pop pop, what happened to that boy?\n  He got popped, got rocked by a real mccoy\n  I was fucking his broad, she was feeling joyced\n  She said; let's go have one a girl or boy\n  I said; not me to copy, have you talking crazy\n  You cool and all but I pass, baby baby\n  To all my Queensmen and Brookmen\n  Crooked men, if you ever looked out, then good looking\n  A nigga pray that we stay away from the bookers\n  Cuz any kid get locked up, to another Brooklyn\n  Avenues and streets, boulevards I creep\n  Until every fucking dollar bill meet, yo\n\n  Yo, alotta niggaz rhyme, some of y'all nice\n  Some sound the same, but not Sean Price\n  The O.D.B., and the B.C.C\n  I'm David Ruffin, say when it's nothing, no\n  Need for acceptance, no need for applause\n  All you need is a gause, when you bleeding, ofcourse\n  Of course, I ain't playin' no more\n  Fuck holding back, fuck what I'm saving it for\n  Get busy, bisexual burners, both ways with the biscuit\n  Hit, niggaz and bitches, and occasionally infants\n  Yo, save it man, tricks are for kids, bitch, David Blaine\n"},{"id":14570203,"name":"Fake Neptune (feat. Buckshot, Louieville, Steele)","trackName":"Fake Neptune (feat. Buckshot, Louieville, Steele)","artistName":"Sean Price","albumName":"Monkey Barz","duration":216.4088,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Ah, you see too hard for me\nAh, you see you hardly me\nDisrespect anyone, no pardon me\nAny time you set it off, you can start with me\n\nMeanwhile, nigga, back at the ranch\nSmokin' a spliff with this bitch trynna faster her pants\nP, off with the blouse, and off with the kangol\nVictoria Secret, bitch, Caribbean mango\nHer favorite song on Nocturnal, was Brainz Blo\nPut on my pants, if she can let the brains blow\nHeh, I had to find that funny\nLost my wallet, gotta find my money, bitch\nHow you gonna shit on me?\nAfter I let you shit on me, freaky deaky\nNowadays I had it up to here\nDon't make me fuck around and cut your hair, listen\nAll things Sean Price, four wings, fried rice\nNigga, duck sauce, who the fuck the boss?\nYo, ask me no questions, I tell you no lie\nUnless the judge is wack and the jury is jive\nUh, old school style, Furious Five\nGet my man Grandmaster Caz, to snuff ya ass\nOn a, world tour, with Muhammed, my man\nIn a piece of shit truck, smelling like vomit and ham\n\nAnd when the coochie smell bad, but the shorty look good\nWhat the fuck a nigga suppose to say, tell me\nIf I like to do a little rap, put money on stacks\nTell me how a nigga suppose to get get paid\nWait a minute, now you mean to tell me, I'm stuck in this shit\nRappers either bending over or riding dicks\nCheck 'em, down and dirty niggaz stuck in the ditch\nThe realest in the myst, tuckin' a fifth, ohh\n\nIt's like a switch from Crys' to Molt Liquor and\nColt 45, on the hittin' hand sittin'\nIf you can't stand the heat, get out the kitchen\nIt's either you with you, or you all around bitching\nPop pop, what happened to that boy?\nHe got popped, got rocked by a real mccoy\nI was fucking his broad, she was feeling joyced\nShe said; let's go have one a girl or boy\nI said; not me to copy, have you talking crazy\nYou cool and all but I pass, baby baby\nTo all my Queensmen and Brookmen\nCrooked men, if you ever looked out, then good looking\nA nigga pray that we stay away from the bookers\nCuz any kid get locked up, to another Brooklyn\nAvenues and streets, boulevards I creep\nUntil every fucking dollar bill meet, yo\n\nYo, alotta niggaz rhyme, some of y'all nice\nSome sound the same, but not Sean Price\nThe O.D.B., and the B.C.C\nI'm David Ruffin, say when it's nothing, no\nNeed for acceptance, no need for applause\nAll you need is a gause, when you bleeding, ofcourse\nOf course, I ain't playin' no more\nFuck holding back, fuck what I'm saving it for\nGet busy, bisexual burners, both ways with the biscuit\nHit, niggaz and bitches, and occasionally infants\nYo, save it man, tricks are for kids, bitch, David Blaine","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.08] Ah, you see too hard for me\n[00:02.61] Ah, you see you hardly me\n[00:05.14] Disrespect anyone, no pardon me\n[00:07.42] Any time you set it off, you can start with me\n[00:20.51] Meanwhile, nigga, back at the ranch\n[00:23.86] Smokin' a spliff with this bitch trynna faster her pants\n[00:26.16] P, off with the blouse, and off with the kangol\n[00:29.05] Victoria Secret, bitch, Caribbean mango\n[00:31.51] Her favorite song on Nocturnal, was Brainz Blo\n[00:34.27] Put on my pants, if she can let the brains blow\n[00:36.82] Heh, I had to find that funny\n[00:39.49] Lost my wallet, gotta find my money, bitch\n[00:41.93] How you gonna shit on me?\n[00:44.42] After I let you shit on me, freaky deaky\n[00:46.27] Nowadays I had it up to here\n[00:49.69] Don't make me fuck around and cut your hair, listen\n[00:51.60] All things Sean Price, four wings, fried rice\n[00:54.61] Nigga, duck sauce, who the fuck the boss?\n[00:57.32] Yo, ask me no questions, I tell you no lie\n[00:59.82] Unless the judge is wack and the jury is jive\n[01:02.70] Uh, old school style, Furious Five\n[01:05.09] Get my man Grandmaster Caz, to snuff ya ass\n[01:07.56] On a, world tour, with Muhammed, my man\n[01:10.56] In a piece of shit truck, smelling like vomit and ham\n[01:12.84] And when the coochie smell bad, but the shorty look good\n[01:15.42] What the fuck a nigga suppose to say, tell me\n[01:18.07] If I like to do a little rap, put money on stacks\n[01:20.41] Tell me how a nigga suppose to get get paid\n[01:22.72] Wait a minute, now you mean to tell me, I'm stuck in this shit\n[01:25.54] Rappers either bending over or riding dicks\n[01:28.14] Check 'em, down and dirty niggaz stuck in the ditch\n[01:30.71] The realest in the myst, tuckin' a fifth, ohh\n[01:33.25] It's like a switch from Crys' to Molt Liquor and\n[01:35.98] Colt 45, on the hittin' hand sittin'\n[01:38.73] If you can't stand the heat, get out the kitchen\n[01:41.36] It's either you with you, or you all around bitching\n[01:43.85] Pop pop, what happened to that boy?\n[01:46.39] He got popped, got rocked by a real mccoy\n[01:48.82] I was fucking his broad, she was feeling joyced\n[01:51.36] She said; let's go have one a girl or boy\n[01:53.97] I said; not me to copy, have you talking crazy\n[01:56.85] You cool and all but I pass, baby baby\n[01:59.66] To all my Queensmen and Brookmen\n[02:03.10] Crooked men, if you ever looked out, then good looking\n[02:04.87] A nigga pray that we stay away from the bookers\n[02:07.33] Cuz any kid get locked up, to another Brooklyn\n[02:09.90] Avenues and streets, boulevards I creep\n[02:12.47] Until every fucking dollar bill meet, yo\n[02:36.26] Yo, alotta niggaz rhyme, some of y'all nice\n[02:38.22] Some sound the same, but not Sean Price\n[02:40.70] The O.D.B., and the B.C.C\n[02:42.95] I'm David Ruffin, say when it's nothing, no\n[02:45.81] Need for acceptance, no need for applause\n[02:48.07] All you need is a gause, when you bleeding, ofcourse\n[02:50.71] Of course, I ain't playin' no more\n[02:53.46] Fuck holding back, fuck what I'm saving it for\n[02:55.78] Get busy, bisexual burners, both ways with the biscuit\n[02:58.59] Hit, niggaz and bitches, and occasionally infants\n[03:01.37] Yo, save it man, tricks are for kids, bitch, David Blaine\n[03:32.00] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Fake Neptune (feat. Buckshot, Louieville, Steele)\n  artist: Sean Price\n  album: Monkey Barz\n  duration_ms: 216409\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Ah, you see too hard for me\n  start_ms: 1080\n  end_ms: 2610\n- text: Ah, you see you hardly me\n  start_ms: 2610\n  end_ms: 5140\n- text: Disrespect anyone, no pardon me\n  start_ms: 5140\n  end_ms: 7420\n- text: Any time you set it off, you can start with me\n  start_ms: 7420\n  end_ms: 20510\n- text: Meanwhile, nigga, back at the ranch\n  start_ms: 20510\n  end_ms: 23860\n- text: Smokin' a spliff with this bitch trynna faster her pants\n  start_ms: 23860\n  end_ms: 26160\n- text: P, off with the blouse, and off with the kangol\n  start_ms: 26160\n  end_ms: 29050\n- text: Victoria Secret, bitch, Caribbean mango\n  start_ms: 29050\n  end_ms: 31510\n- text: Her favorite song on Nocturnal, was Brainz Blo\n  start_ms: 31510\n  end_ms: 34270\n- text: Put on my pants, if she can let the brains blow\n  start_ms: 34270\n  end_ms: 36820\n- text: Heh, I had to find that funny\n  start_ms: 36820\n  end_ms: 39490\n- text: Lost my wallet, gotta find my money, bitch\n  start_ms: 39490\n  end_ms: 41930\n- text: How you gonna shit on me?\n  start_ms: 41930\n  end_ms: 44420\n- text: After I let you shit on me, freaky deaky\n  start_ms: 44420\n  end_ms: 46270\n- text: Nowadays I had it up to here\n  start_ms: 46270\n  end_ms: 49690\n- text: Don't make me fuck around and cut your hair, listen\n  start_ms: 49690\n  end_ms: 51600\n- text: All things Sean Price, four wings, fried rice\n  start_ms: 51600\n  end_ms: 54610\n- text: Nigga, duck sauce, who the fuck the boss?\n  start_ms: 54610\n  end_ms: 57320\n- text: Yo, ask me no questions, I tell you no lie\n  start_ms: 57320\n  end_ms: 59820\n- text: Unless the judge is wack and the jury is jive\n  start_ms: 59820\n  end_ms: 62700\n- text: Uh, old school style, Furious Five\n  start_ms: 62700\n  end_ms: 65090\n- text: Get my man Grandmaster Caz, to snuff ya ass\n  start_ms: 65090\n  end_ms: 67560\n- text: On a, world tour, with Muhammed, my man\n  start_ms: 67560\n  end_ms: 70560\n- text: In a piece of shit truck, smelling like vomit and ham\n  start_ms: 70560\n  end_ms: 72840\n- text: And when the coochie smell bad, but the shorty look good\n  start_ms: 72840\n  end_ms: 75420\n- text: What the fuck a nigga suppose to say, tell me\n  start_ms: 75420\n  end_ms: 78070\n- text: If I like to do a little rap, put money on stacks\n  start_ms: 78070\n  end_ms: 80410\n- text: Tell me how a nigga suppose to get get paid\n  start_ms: 80410\n  end_ms: 82720\n- text: Wait a minute, now you mean to tell me, I'm stuck in this shit\n  start_ms: 82720\n  end_ms: 85540\n- text: Rappers either bending over or riding dicks\n  start_ms: 85540\n  end_ms: 88140\n- text: Check 'em, down and dirty niggaz stuck in the ditch\n  start_ms: 88140\n  end_ms: 90710\n- text: The realest in the myst, tuckin' a fifth, ohh\n  start_ms: 90710\n  end_ms: 93250\n- text: It's like a switch from Crys' to Molt Liquor and\n  start_ms: 93250\n  end_ms: 95980\n- text: Colt 45, on the hittin' hand sittin'\n  start_ms: 95980\n  end_ms: 98730\n- text: If you can't stand the heat, get out the kitchen\n  start_ms: 98730\n  end_ms: 101360\n- text: It's either you with you, or you all around bitching\n  start_ms: 101360\n  end_ms: 103850\n- text: Pop pop, what happened to that boy?\n  start_ms: 103850\n  end_ms: 106390\n- text: He got popped, got rocked by a real mccoy\n  start_ms: 106390\n  end_ms: 108820\n- text: I was fucking his broad, she was feeling joyced\n  start_ms: 108820\n  end_ms: 111360\n- text: She said; let's go have one a girl or boy\n  start_ms: 111360\n  end_ms: 113970\n- text: I said; not me to copy, have you talking crazy\n  start_ms: 113970\n  end_ms: 116850\n- text: You cool and all but I pass, baby baby\n  start_ms: 116850\n  end_ms: 119660\n- text: To all my Queensmen and Brookmen\n  start_ms: 119660\n  end_ms: 123100\n- text: Crooked men, if you ever looked out, then good looking\n  start_ms: 123100\n  end_ms: 124870\n- text: A nigga pray that we stay away from the bookers\n  start_ms: 124870\n  end_ms: 127330\n- text: Cuz any kid get locked up, to another Brooklyn\n  start_ms: 127330\n  end_ms: 129900\n- text: Avenues and streets, boulevards I creep\n  start_ms: 129900\n  end_ms: 132470\n- text: Until every fucking dollar bill meet, yo\n  start_ms: 132470\n  end_ms: 156260\n- text: Yo, alotta niggaz rhyme, some of y'all nice\n  start_ms: 156260\n  end_ms: 158220\n- text: Some sound the same, but not Sean Price\n  start_ms: 158220\n  end_ms: 160700\n- text: The O.D.B., and the B.C.C\n  start_ms: 160700\n  end_ms: 162950\n- text: I'm David Ruffin, say when it's nothing, no\n  start_ms: 162950\n  end_ms: 165810\n- text: Need for acceptance, no need for applause\n  start_ms: 165810\n  end_ms: 168070\n- text: All you need is a gause, when you bleeding, ofcourse\n  start_ms: 168070\n  end_ms: 170710\n- text: Of course, I ain't playin' no more\n  start_ms: 170710\n  end_ms: 173460\n- text: Fuck holding back, fuck what I'm saving it for\n  start_ms: 173460\n  end_ms: 175780\n- text: Get busy, bisexual burners, both ways with the biscuit\n  start_ms: 175780\n  end_ms: 178590\n- text: Hit, niggaz and bitches, and occasionally infants\n  start_ms: 178590\n  end_ms: 181370\n- text: Yo, save it man, tricks are for kids, bitch, David Blaine\n  start_ms: 181370\n  end_ms: 212000\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 212000\nplain: |-\n  Ah, you see too hard for me\n  Ah, you see you hardly me\n  Disrespect anyone, no pardon me\n  Any time you set it off, you can start with me\n\n  Meanwhile, nigga, back at the ranch\n  Smokin' a spliff with this bitch trynna faster her pants\n  P, off with the blouse, and off with the kangol\n  Victoria Secret, bitch, Caribbean mango\n  Her favorite song on Nocturnal, was Brainz Blo\n  Put on my pants, if she can let the brains blow\n  Heh, I had to find that funny\n  Lost my wallet, gotta find my money, bitch\n  How you gonna shit on me?\n  After I let you shit on me, freaky deaky\n  Nowadays I had it up to here\n  Don't make me fuck around and cut your hair, listen\n  All things Sean Price, four wings, fried rice\n  Nigga, duck sauce, who the fuck the boss?\n  Yo, ask me no questions, I tell you no lie\n  Unless the judge is wack and the jury is jive\n  Uh, old school style, Furious Five\n  Get my man Grandmaster Caz, to snuff ya ass\n  On a, world tour, with Muhammed, my man\n  In a piece of shit truck, smelling like vomit and ham\n\n  And when the coochie smell bad, but the shorty look good\n  What the fuck a nigga suppose to say, tell me\n  If I like to do a little rap, put money on stacks\n  Tell me how a nigga suppose to get get paid\n  Wait a minute, now you mean to tell me, I'm stuck in this shit\n  Rappers either bending over or riding dicks\n  Check 'em, down and dirty niggaz stuck in the ditch\n  The realest in the myst, tuckin' a fifth, ohh\n\n  It's like a switch from Crys' to Molt Liquor and\n  Colt 45, on the hittin' hand sittin'\n  If you can't stand the heat, get out the kitchen\n  It's either you with you, or you all around bitching\n  Pop pop, what happened to that boy?\n  He got popped, got rocked by a real mccoy\n  I was fucking his broad, she was feeling joyced\n  She said; let's go have one a girl or boy\n  I said; not me to copy, have you talking crazy\n  You cool and all but I pass, baby baby\n  To all my Queensmen and Brookmen\n  Crooked men, if you ever looked out, then good looking\n  A nigga pray that we stay away from the bookers\n  Cuz any kid get locked up, to another Brooklyn\n  Avenues and streets, boulevards I creep\n  Until every fucking dollar bill meet, yo\n\n  Yo, alotta niggaz rhyme, some of y'all nice\n  Some sound the same, but not Sean Price\n  The O.D.B., and the B.C.C\n  I'm David Ruffin, say when it's nothing, no\n  Need for acceptance, no need for applause\n  All you need is a gause, when you bleeding, ofcourse\n  Of course, I ain't playin' no more\n  Fuck holding back, fuck what I'm saving it for\n  Get busy, bisexual burners, both ways with the biscuit\n  Hit, niggaz and bitches, and occasionally infants\n  Yo, save it man, tricks are for kids, bitch, David Blaine\n"},{"id":25166425,"name":"Fake Neptune feat. Buckshot, Steele & Louieville","trackName":"Fake Neptune feat. Buckshot, Steele & Louieville","artistName":"Sean Price","albumName":"Gorilla","duration":214.386939,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Ah, you see too hard for me\nAh, you see you hardly me\nDisrespect anyone, no pardon me\nAny time you set it off, you can start with me\n\nMeanwhile, nigga, back at the ranch\nSmokin' a spliff with this bitch trynna faster her pants\nP, off with the blouse, and off with the kangol\nVictoria Secret, bitch, Caribbean mango\nHer favorite song on Nocturnal, was Brainz Blo\nPut on my pants, if she can let the brains blow\nHeh, I had to find that funny\nLost my wallet, gotta find my money, bitch\nHow you gonna shit on me?\nAfter I let you shit on me, freaky deaky\nNowadays I had it up to here\nDon't make me fuck around and cut your hair, listen\nAll things Sean Price, four wings, fried rice\nNigga, duck sauce, who the fuck the boss?\nYo, ask me no questions, I tell you no lie\nUnless the judge is wack and the jury is jive\nUh, old school style, Furious Five\nGet my man Grandmaster Caz, to snuff ya ass\nOn a, world tour, with Muhammed, my man\nIn a piece of shit truck, smelling like vomit and ham\n\nAnd when the coochie smell bad, but the shorty look good\nWhat the fuck a nigga suppose to say, tell me\nIf I like to do a little rap, put money on stacks\nTell me how a nigga suppose to get get paid\nWait a minute, now you mean to tell me, I'm stuck in this shit\nRappers either bending over or riding dicks\nCheck 'em, down and dirty niggaz stuck in the ditch\nThe realest in the myst, tuckin' a fifth, ohh\n\nIt's like a switch from Crys' to Molt Liquor and\nColt 45, on the hittin' hand sittin'\nIf you can't stand the heat, get out the kitchen\nIt's either you with you, or you all around bitching\nPop pop, what happened to that boy?\nHe got popped, got rocked by a real mccoy\nI was fucking his broad, she was feeling joyced\nShe said; let's go have one a girl or boy\nI said; not me to copy, have you talking crazy\nYou cool and all but I pass, baby baby\nTo all my Queensmen and Brookmen\nCrooked men, if you ever looked out, then good looking\nA nigga pray that we stay away from the bookers\nCuz any kid get locked up, to another Brooklyn\nAvenues and streets, boulevards I creep\nUntil every fucking dollar bill meet, yo\n\nYo, alotta niggaz rhyme, some of y'all nice\nSome sound the same, but not Sean Price\nThe O.D.B., and the B.C.C\nI'm David Ruffin, say when it's nothing, no\nNeed for acceptance, no need for applause\nAll you need is a gause, when you bleeding, ofcourse\nOf course, I ain't playin' no more\nFuck holding back, fuck what I'm saving it for\nGet busy, bisexual burners, both ways with the biscuit\nHit, niggaz and bitches, and occasionally infants\nYo, save it man, tricks are for kids, bitch, David Blaine","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Fake Neptune feat. Buckshot, Steele & Louieville\n  artist: Sean Price\n  album: Gorilla\n  duration_ms: 214387\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Ah, you see too hard for me\n  Ah, you see you hardly me\n  Disrespect anyone, no pardon me\n  Any time you set it off, you can start with me\n\n  Meanwhile, nigga, back at the ranch\n  Smokin' a spliff with this bitch trynna faster her pants\n  P, off with the blouse, and off with the kangol\n  Victoria Secret, bitch, Caribbean mango\n  Her favorite song on Nocturnal, was Brainz Blo\n  Put on my pants, if she can let the brains blow\n  Heh, I had to find that funny\n  Lost my wallet, gotta find my money, bitch\n  How you gonna shit on me?\n  After I let you shit on me, freaky deaky\n  Nowadays I had it up to here\n  Don't make me fuck around and cut your hair, listen\n  All things Sean Price, four wings, fried rice\n  Nigga, duck sauce, who the fuck the boss?\n  Yo, ask me no questions, I tell you no lie\n  Unless the judge is wack and the jury is jive\n  Uh, old school style, Furious Five\n  Get my man Grandmaster Caz, to snuff ya ass\n  On a, world tour, with Muhammed, my man\n  In a piece of shit truck, smelling like vomit and ham\n\n  And when the coochie smell bad, but the shorty look good\n  What the fuck a nigga suppose to say, tell me\n  If I like to do a little rap, put money on stacks\n  Tell me how a nigga suppose to get get paid\n  Wait a minute, now you mean to tell me, I'm stuck in this shit\n  Rappers either bending over or riding dicks\n  Check 'em, down and dirty niggaz stuck in the ditch\n  The realest in the myst, tuckin' a fifth, ohh\n\n  It's like a switch from Crys' to Molt Liquor and\n  Colt 45, on the hittin' hand sittin'\n  If you can't stand the heat, get out the kitchen\n  It's either you with you, or you all around bitching\n  Pop pop, what happened to that boy?\n  He got popped, got rocked by a real mccoy\n  I was fucking his broad, she was feeling joyced\n  She said; let's go have one a girl or boy\n  I said; not me to copy, have you talking crazy\n  You cool and all but I pass, baby baby\n  To all my Queensmen and Brookmen\n  Crooked men, if you ever looked out, then good looking\n  A nigga pray that we stay away from the bookers\n  Cuz any kid get locked up, to another Brooklyn\n  Avenues and streets, boulevards I creep\n  Until every fucking dollar bill meet, yo\n\n  Yo, alotta niggaz rhyme, some of y'all nice\n  Some sound the same, but not Sean Price\n  The O.D.B., and the B.C.C\n  I'm David Ruffin, say when it's nothing, no\n  Need for acceptance, no need for applause\n  All you need is a gause, when you bleeding, ofcourse\n  Of course, I ain't playin' no more\n  Fuck holding back, fuck what I'm saving it for\n  Get busy, bisexual burners, both ways with the biscuit\n  Hit, niggaz and bitches, and occasionally infants\n  Yo, save it man, tricks are for kids, bitch, David Blaine\n"},{"id":12333658,"name":"Fake Neptune Featuring Buckshot, Steele & Lousiville","trackName":"Fake Neptune Featuring Buckshot, Steele & Lousiville","artistName":"Sean Price","albumName":"Monkey Barz","duration":214.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Ah, you see too hard for me\nAh, you see you hardly me\nDisrespect anyone, no pardon me\nAny time you set it off, you can start with me\n\nMeanwhile, nigga, back at the ranch\nSmokin' a spliff with this bitch trynna faster her pants\nP, off with the blouse, and off with the kangol\nVictoria Secret, bitch, Caribbean mango\nHer favorite song on Nocturnal, was Brainz Blo\nPut on my pants, if she can let the brains blow\nHeh, I had to find that funny\nLost my wallet, gotta find my money, bitch\nHow you gonna shit on me?\nAfter I let you shit on me, freaky deaky\nNowadays I had it up to here\nDon't make me fuck around and cut your hair, listen\nAll things Sean Price, four wings, fried rice\nNigga, duck sauce, who the fuck the boss?\nYo, ask me no questions, I tell you no lie\nUnless the judge is wack and the jury is jive\nUh, old school style, Furious Five\nGet my man Grandmaster Caz, to snuff ya ass\nOn a, world tour, with Muhammed, my man\nIn a piece of shit truck, smelling like vomit and ham\n\nAnd when the coochie smell bad, but the shorty look good\nWhat the fuck a nigga suppose to say, tell me\nIf I like to do a little rap, put money on stacks\nTell me how a nigga suppose to get get paid\nWait a minute, now you mean to tell me, I'm stuck in this shit\nRappers either bending over or riding dicks\nCheck 'em, down and dirty niggaz stuck in the ditch\nThe realest in the myst, tuckin' a fifth, ohh\n\nIt's like a switch from Crys' to Molt Liquor and\nColt 45, on the hittin' hand sittin'\nIf you can't stand the heat, get out the kitchen\nIt's either you with you, or you all around bitching\nPop pop, what happened to that boy?\nHe got popped, got rocked by a real mccoy\nI was fucking his broad, she was feeling joyced\nShe said; let's go have one a girl or boy\nI said; not me to copy, have you talking crazy\nYou cool and all but I pass, baby baby\nTo all my Queensmen and Brookmen\nCrooked men, if you ever looked out, then good looking\nA nigga pray that we stay away from the bookers\nCuz any kid get locked up, to another Brooklyn\nAvenues and streets, boulevards I creep\nUntil every fucking dollar bill meet, yo\n\nYo, alotta niggaz rhyme, some of y'all nice\nSome sound the same, but not Sean Price\nThe O.D.B., and the B.C.C\nI'm David Ruffin, say when it's nothing, no\nNeed for acceptance, no need for applause\nAll you need is a gause, when you bleeding, ofcourse\nOf course, I ain't playin' no more\nFuck holding back, fuck what I'm saving it for\nGet busy, bisexual burners, both ways with the biscuit\nHit, niggaz and bitches, and occasionally infants\nYo, save it man, tricks are for kids, bitch, David Blaine","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Fake Neptune Featuring Buckshot, Steele & Lousiville\n  artist: Sean Price\n  album: Monkey Barz\n  duration_ms: 214000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Ah, you see too hard for me\n  Ah, you see you hardly me\n  Disrespect anyone, no pardon me\n  Any time you set it off, you can start with me\n\n  Meanwhile, nigga, back at the ranch\n  Smokin' a spliff with this bitch trynna faster her pants\n  P, off with the blouse, and off with the kangol\n  Victoria Secret, bitch, Caribbean mango\n  Her favorite song on Nocturnal, was Brainz Blo\n  Put on my pants, if she can let the brains blow\n  Heh, I had to find that funny\n  Lost my wallet, gotta find my money, bitch\n  How you gonna shit on me?\n  After I let you shit on me, freaky deaky\n  Nowadays I had it up to here\n  Don't make me fuck around and cut your hair, listen\n  All things Sean Price, four wings, fried rice\n  Nigga, duck sauce, who the fuck the boss?\n  Yo, ask me no questions, I tell you no lie\n  Unless the judge is wack and the jury is jive\n  Uh, old school style, Furious Five\n  Get my man Grandmaster Caz, to snuff ya ass\n  On a, world tour, with Muhammed, my man\n  In a piece of shit truck, smelling like vomit and ham\n\n  And when the coochie smell bad, but the shorty look good\n  What the fuck a nigga suppose to say, tell me\n  If I like to do a little rap, put money on stacks\n  Tell me how a nigga suppose to get get paid\n  Wait a minute, now you mean to tell me, I'm stuck in this shit\n  Rappers either bending over or riding dicks\n  Check 'em, down and dirty niggaz stuck in the ditch\n  The realest in the myst, tuckin' a fifth, ohh\n\n  It's like a switch from Crys' to Molt Liquor and\n  Colt 45, on the hittin' hand sittin'\n  If you can't stand the heat, get out the kitchen\n  It's either you with you, or you all around bitching\n  Pop pop, what happened to that boy?\n  He got popped, got rocked by a real mccoy\n  I was fucking his broad, she was feeling joyced\n  She said; let's go have one a girl or boy\n  I said; not me to copy, have you talking crazy\n  You cool and all but I pass, baby baby\n  To all my Queensmen and Brookmen\n  Crooked men, if you ever looked out, then good looking\n  A nigga pray that we stay away from the bookers\n  Cuz any kid get locked up, to another Brooklyn\n  Avenues and streets, boulevards I creep\n  Until every fucking dollar bill meet, yo\n\n  Yo, alotta niggaz rhyme, some of y'all nice\n  Some sound the same, but not Sean Price\n  The O.D.B., and the B.C.C\n  I'm David Ruffin, say when it's nothing, no\n  Need for acceptance, no need for applause\n  All you need is a gause, when you bleeding, ofcourse\n  Of course, I ain't playin' no more\n  Fuck holding back, fuck what I'm saving it for\n  Get busy, bisexual burners, both ways with the biscuit\n  Hit, niggaz and bitches, and occasionally infants\n  Yo, save it man, tricks are for kids, bitch, David Blaine\n"},{"id":14374977,"name":"Fake Neptune Ft. Buckshot, Steele & Louieville Sluggah","trackName":"Fake Neptune Ft. Buckshot, Steele & Louieville Sluggah","artistName":"Sean Price","albumName":"Monkey Barz","duration":214.49675,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Ah, you see too hard for me\nAh, you see you hardly me\nDisrespect anyone, no pardon me\nAny time you set it off, you can start with me\n\nMeanwhile, nigga, back at the ranch\nSmokin' a spliff with this bitch trynna faster her pants\nP, off with the blouse, and off with the kangol\nVictoria Secret, bitch, Caribbean mango\nHer favorite song on Nocturnal, was Brainz Blo\nPut on my pants, if she can let the brains blow\nHeh, I had to find that funny\nLost my wallet, gotta find my money, bitch\nHow you gonna shit on me?\nAfter I let you shit on me, freaky deaky\nNowadays I had it up to here\nDon't make me fuck around and cut your hair, listen\nAll things Sean Price, four wings, fried rice\nNigga, duck sauce, who the fuck the boss?\nYo, ask me no questions, I tell you no lie\nUnless the judge is wack and the jury is jive\nUh, old school style, Furious Five\nGet my man Grandmaster Caz, to snuff ya ass\nOn a, world tour, with Muhammed, my man\nIn a piece of shit truck, smelling like vomit and ham\n\nAnd when the coochie smell bad, but the shorty look good\nWhat the fuck a nigga suppose to say, tell me\nIf I like to do a little rap, put money on stacks\nTell me how a nigga suppose to get get paid\nWait a minute, now you mean to tell me, I'm stuck in this shit\nRappers either bending over or riding dicks\nCheck 'em, down and dirty niggaz stuck in the ditch\nThe realest in the myst, tuckin' a fifth, ohh\n\nIt's like a switch from Crys' to Molt Liquor and\nColt 45, on the hittin' hand sittin'\nIf you can't stand the heat, get out the kitchen\nIt's either you with you, or you all around bitching\nPop pop, what happened to that boy?\nHe got popped, got rocked by a real mccoy\nI was fucking his broad, she was feeling joyced\nShe said; let's go have one a girl or boy\nI said; not me to copy, have you talking crazy\nYou cool and all but I pass, baby baby\nTo all my Queensmen and Brookmen\nCrooked men, if you ever looked out, then good looking\nA nigga pray that we stay away from the bookers\nCuz any kid get locked up, to another Brooklyn\nAvenues and streets, boulevards I creep\nUntil every fucking dollar bill meet, yo\n\nYo, alotta niggaz rhyme, some of y'all nice\nSome sound the same, but not Sean Price\nThe O.D.B., and the B.C.C\nI'm David Ruffin, say when it's nothing, no\nNeed for acceptance, no need for applause\nAll you need is a gause, when you bleeding, ofcourse\nOf course, I ain't playin' no more\nFuck holding back, fuck what I'm saving it for\nGet busy, bisexual burners, both ways with the biscuit\nHit, niggaz and bitches, and occasionally infants\nYo, save it man, tricks are for kids, bitch, David Blaine","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Fake Neptune Ft. Buckshot, Steele & Louieville Sluggah\n  artist: Sean Price\n  album: Monkey Barz\n  duration_ms: 214497\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Ah, you see too hard for me\n  Ah, you see you hardly me\n  Disrespect anyone, no pardon me\n  Any time you set it off, you can start with me\n\n  Meanwhile, nigga, back at the ranch\n  Smokin' a spliff with this bitch trynna faster her pants\n  P, off with the blouse, and off with the kangol\n  Victoria Secret, bitch, Caribbean mango\n  Her favorite song on Nocturnal, was Brainz Blo\n  Put on my pants, if she can let the brains blow\n  Heh, I had to find that funny\n  Lost my wallet, gotta find my money, bitch\n  How you gonna shit on me?\n  After I let you shit on me, freaky deaky\n  Nowadays I had it up to here\n  Don't make me fuck around and cut your hair, listen\n  All things Sean Price, four wings, fried rice\n  Nigga, duck sauce, who the fuck the boss?\n  Yo, ask me no questions, I tell you no lie\n  Unless the judge is wack and the jury is jive\n  Uh, old school style, Furious Five\n  Get my man Grandmaster Caz, to snuff ya ass\n  On a, world tour, with Muhammed, my man\n  In a piece of shit truck, smelling like vomit and ham\n\n  And when the coochie smell bad, but the shorty look good\n  What the fuck a nigga suppose to say, tell me\n  If I like to do a little rap, put money on stacks\n  Tell me how a nigga suppose to get get paid\n  Wait a minute, now you mean to tell me, I'm stuck in this shit\n  Rappers either bending over or riding dicks\n  Check 'em, down and dirty niggaz stuck in the ditch\n  The realest in the myst, tuckin' a fifth, ohh\n\n  It's like a switch from Crys' to Molt Liquor and\n  Colt 45, on the hittin' hand sittin'\n  If you can't stand the heat, get out the kitchen\n  It's either you with you, or you all around bitching\n  Pop pop, what happened to that boy?\n  He got popped, got rocked by a real mccoy\n  I was fucking his broad, she was feeling joyced\n  She said; let's go have one a girl or boy\n  I said; not me to copy, have you talking crazy\n  You cool and all but I pass, baby baby\n  To all my Queensmen and Brookmen\n  Crooked men, if you ever looked out, then good looking\n  A nigga pray that we stay away from the bookers\n  Cuz any kid get locked up, to another Brooklyn\n  Avenues and streets, boulevards I creep\n  Until every fucking dollar bill meet, yo\n\n  Yo, alotta niggaz rhyme, some of y'all nice\n  Some sound the same, but not Sean Price\n  The O.D.B., and the B.C.C\n  I'm David Ruffin, say when it's nothing, no\n  Need for acceptance, no need for applause\n  All you need is a gause, when you bleeding, ofcourse\n  Of course, I ain't playin' no more\n  Fuck holding back, fuck what I'm saving it for\n  Get busy, bisexual burners, both ways with the biscuit\n  Hit, niggaz and bitches, and occasionally infants\n  Yo, save it man, tricks are for kids, bitch, David Blaine\n"}]