[{"id":23273065,"name":"Mike Jack","trackName":"Mike Jack","artistName":"Skilla Baby","albumName":"The Coldest","duration":202.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(MIA JAY C)\nYeah, phew\nMm-hmm, mm\nKeep all that\nHa\nIn L.A. with my nigga Herb, my twin from the 'Raq\nI ain't gon' lie, my nigga starvin', he'll sin for his stacks\nSpent ninety days in the trap, just to leave and catch a hat\nQuick to get a nigga robbed with four .9s, welcome to Vulture Island\nIn my hood, they call me Simon, killers do what I say\nEvery diamond came from Gary, they think this from Eliantte\nMy wrist on \"Get out my way,\" my Cuban link on Pavé\nI keep a yeah, I'm not Tay, come get your bitch out my face\nThank God I went legit from street shit and chose rap\nGrab a million from the 'Raq, hop on a plane and fly back\nHundred shots go off for free, he died, but he fired back\nThought lil' foe'nem was from the D, they scratched off in five Scats\nI'm in a BP Cadillac, we got Double-Rs back to back\nSwitch start glitchin' like it got Tourette's\nSwitched three bitches, I was off X\nI'm gettin' rich, I ain't breakin' a sweat, I just got an ASCAP check\nAnd I bought me a Rolex, that bitch rose like Moët (yeah)\nStop the cap, you ain't catch no hat, we doin' the dash in Scats, nigga\nFuck your hood, I ain't coppin' pleas, bitch, if it's that, it's that, nigga\nI'm with G Herbo in the 'Raq, but I can't lack, it ain't in me\nI ain't laugh with none of these hoes, bitch, take 'em off, I'm dead serious, woo\nHuh, I done did more hoes than Michael Jackson did his shows, nigga\nI done sold more 'bows than Ralph Lauren done sold clothes, nigga\nT hittin', this ain't come from Johnny, we ain't like niggas\nI buy bitches bodies, I'm her bitch-ass boyfriend nightmare\nI don't just be sayin' shit, my boy, I'm really rich, for real\nWhen I'm in the field, I keep that whistle on me, Emmitt Till\nPTSD from them gunshots, them bitches give me chills\nTrap bangin', know I'm for real, cookie sales, Mrs. Fields\nLord knows I can't afford another F, but niggas playin', God\nThe whole city know what me and cuz do on the yeah side\nAll we know is Scats, Tracks, Hellcats, Redeyes\nMy lil' bitch keep blick, she quick to face some shit, Barreleye (yeah, ha)\nOn the yeah side, niggas know we be on yeah time, alright\nThat's my uncle in that kitchen makin' his hand lock, alright\nWear yo' mask when you in that kitchen, make you pass out, alright\nBitch, I love when you come through, have that ass up\nLord, we the reason they buy hearses, we buyin' bitches purses, huh\nI know niggas who want it all, but ain't tryna put that work in, huh\nPull up in the turtle, bulletproof'll make niggas nervous, huh\nBring your friend when you slide through, make this shit a circus, huh\nFuck me right now, girl, come fuck me right now\nHo already know I'm lit, she suckin' dick straight off the flight out, uh\nIt's her and her friend right now, I wanna see, don't turn the light out\nCan't get no sleep and this money keep callin' me, I'm puttin' 'em right out\nLil' bro got locked, sent the kite out, scope on the AR, took the sight out\nWe got twenty Glocks when we pop out, niggas get killed, what we fightin' 'bout?\nWith some boss niggas that's locked in who wanna see me win\nFuck-nigga walked into that Glock 10, made CNN\nI know trapstars sell green and hard, no CPNs\nI got five percent on eight cars, can't see me in\nAnd my big cuz, he renegade, he GDK, but he GDN\nHe EBK, might kill his mans, gotta watch his kin\nHe don't want no bust down watch, he want the newest Gen\nSlide off the strip and let off shots, I'm still gon' hit his hand\nLike he discovered Young Buck and fucked up many men\nYou thought Doe Boy was one of us? We jump out minivans (uh)","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Mike Jack\n  artist: Skilla Baby\n  album: The Coldest\n  duration_ms: 202000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  (MIA JAY C)\n  Yeah, phew\n  Mm-hmm, mm\n  Keep all that\n  Ha\n  In L.A. with my nigga Herb, my twin from the 'Raq\n  I ain't gon' lie, my nigga starvin', he'll sin for his stacks\n  Spent ninety days in the trap, just to leave and catch a hat\n  Quick to get a nigga robbed with four .9s, welcome to Vulture Island\n  In my hood, they call me Simon, killers do what I say\n  Every diamond came from Gary, they think this from Eliantte\n  My wrist on \"Get out my way,\" my Cuban link on Pavé\n  I keep a yeah, I'm not Tay, come get your bitch out my face\n  Thank God I went legit from street shit and chose rap\n  Grab a million from the 'Raq, hop on a plane and fly back\n  Hundred shots go off for free, he died, but he fired back\n  Thought lil' foe'nem was from the D, they scratched off in five Scats\n  I'm in a BP Cadillac, we got Double-Rs back to back\n  Switch start glitchin' like it got Tourette's\n  Switched three bitches, I was off X\n  I'm gettin' rich, I ain't breakin' a sweat, I just got an ASCAP check\n  And I bought me a Rolex, that bitch rose like Moët (yeah)\n  Stop the cap, you ain't catch no hat, we doin' the dash in Scats, nigga\n  Fuck your hood, I ain't coppin' pleas, bitch, if it's that, it's that, nigga\n  I'm with G Herbo in the 'Raq, but I can't lack, it ain't in me\n  I ain't laugh with none of these hoes, bitch, take 'em off, I'm dead serious, woo\n  Huh, I done did more hoes than Michael Jackson did his shows, nigga\n  I done sold more 'bows than Ralph Lauren done sold clothes, nigga\n  T hittin', this ain't come from Johnny, we ain't like niggas\n  I buy bitches bodies, I'm her bitch-ass boyfriend nightmare\n  I don't just be sayin' shit, my boy, I'm really rich, for real\n  When I'm in the field, I keep that whistle on me, Emmitt Till\n  PTSD from them gunshots, them bitches give me chills\n  Trap bangin', know I'm for real, cookie sales, Mrs. Fields\n  Lord knows I can't afford another F, but niggas playin', God\n  The whole city know what me and cuz do on the yeah side\n  All we know is Scats, Tracks, Hellcats, Redeyes\n  My lil' bitch keep blick, she quick to face some shit, Barreleye (yeah, ha)\n  On the yeah side, niggas know we be on yeah time, alright\n  That's my uncle in that kitchen makin' his hand lock, alright\n  Wear yo' mask when you in that kitchen, make you pass out, alright\n  Bitch, I love when you come through, have that ass up\n  Lord, we the reason they buy hearses, we buyin' bitches purses, huh\n  I know niggas who want it all, but ain't tryna put that work in, huh\n  Pull up in the turtle, bulletproof'll make niggas nervous, huh\n  Bring your friend when you slide through, make this shit a circus, huh\n  Fuck me right now, girl, come fuck me right now\n  Ho already know I'm lit, she suckin' dick straight off the flight out, uh\n  It's her and her friend right now, I wanna see, don't turn the light out\n  Can't get no sleep and this money keep callin' me, I'm puttin' 'em right out\n  Lil' bro got locked, sent the kite out, scope on the AR, took the sight out\n  We got twenty Glocks when we pop out, niggas get killed, what we fightin' 'bout?\n  With some boss niggas that's locked in who wanna see me win\n  Fuck-nigga walked into that Glock 10, made CNN\n  I know trapstars sell green and hard, no CPNs\n  I got five percent on eight cars, can't see me in\n  And my big cuz, he renegade, he GDK, but he GDN\n  He EBK, might kill his mans, gotta watch his kin\n  He don't want no bust down watch, he want the newest Gen\n  Slide off the strip and let off shots, I'm still gon' hit his hand\n  Like he discovered Young Buck and fucked up many men\n  You thought Doe Boy was one of us? We jump out minivans (uh)\n"}]