[{"id":7564359,"name":"Lyrical Murderers","trackName":"Lyrical Murderers","artistName":"Slaughterhouse","albumName":"Slaughterhouse","duration":244.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"\"This is the life, we gone!\" - [Royce Da 5'9\"]\n\"I ain't with the leanin and rockin\nThat ain't even seen as a option...\"\nYou're nothin without (Focus)\nWoo, Long Beach (lay your seats back)\nNew Jersey (turn your speakers up)\nBrook-lyn! Detroit!\n[Chorus]\nWe-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers\nWelcome to the Slaughterhouse\n(What you talkin 'bout?)\nWhere we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\nWe-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers\nMan, we own these streets\nAnd the freaks they love us\nWe ain't worried 'bout you fuckers (Slaughterhouse)\nLyrical murderer, blame Rakim\nI'm a sniper shootin' my way into your lame top 10\nPistol at your head if I ain't next to Eminem\nThen I bust in your face like I'm fuckin' Lil' Kim\nNiggaz better pray to the lyrical lord\nThat I fall off like the umbilical cord before I fill up the morgue\nThis is how a killer record\nWith the double-edged triple syllable sword, I'm iller than all\nDineri, see I'm a literary genius\nBury niggaz with words, a cemetery linguist\nMost rappers are comedy gold\nThey like they boyfriend's sodomy hole, they full of SHIT!\nNow you could walk through the shadow of death next to that shady street\nWhere the verbal cocaine business and 80's meet\nWhere them niggaz is backwards\nI'm ridin' with my daughter in the front with the A.K. in the baby seat\nWe them copycat killers, unleashin' venom\nCommit them lyrical murders and then we re-commit 'em\nLyrics be high quality\nBitches be givin' me brain, my dick be deep in they heads like psychology\nIndependently pennin' the best words that were ever said\nThe mixture of Leatherhead and Everclear\nYou can't hide, we everywhere\nNow, picture a grizzly standin' next to a teddy bear\n[Chorus]\nYeah\nHello hip-hop, I am here, you dyin yeah and I'm aware\nA beast so at your wake I'll cry lion's tears\nAnd that's no disrespect to the pioneers\nIf we ain't who you tryin' to hear\nSomethin' either wrong with your eyes and ears\nI came in this game screamin' Jers'\nAin't an MC in our lane to try and merge\nTry and run with our wave\nBut I'm cool with bein' Eddie Levert seein' my son on stage\nGun gon' blaze, act up in this joint\nAnd I'ma be Nate Robinson and back up the point\nYour run's over, run with us or get run over\nI'm here to save this shit, and I brung soldiers\nThis is lyrical murder\nMe and every track have a physical merger\nWhen I stab it in the chest I'ma bit of a curver\nSo it bleeds to death, like the middle of a unfinished burger\nOr sometimes I wrap my hand around his throat\nCause he think his kick is slick or his little snare is dope\nShoot the bass in the face but sometimes I carry a rope\nTo hang the piano keys when they hittin' every note\nI'm what no beat's able to withstand\nIf you suffer from writer's block and your label got big plans\nListen to this fam\nSlide a little dough out that budget, and hire the instrumental hitman\n[Chorus]","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Lyrical Murderers\n  artist: Slaughterhouse\n  album: Slaughterhouse\n  duration_ms: 244000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  \"This is the life, we gone!\" - [Royce Da 5'9\"]\n  \"I ain't with the leanin and rockin\n  That ain't even seen as a option...\"\n  You're nothin without (Focus)\n  Woo, Long Beach (lay your seats back)\n  New Jersey (turn your speakers up)\n  Brook-lyn! Detroit!\n  [Chorus]\n  We-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers\n  Welcome to the Slaughterhouse\n  (What you talkin 'bout?)\n  Where we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\n  We-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers\n  Man, we own these streets\n  And the freaks they love us\n  We ain't worried 'bout you fuckers (Slaughterhouse)\n  Lyrical murderer, blame Rakim\n  I'm a sniper shootin' my way into your lame top 10\n  Pistol at your head if I ain't next to Eminem\n  Then I bust in your face like I'm fuckin' Lil' Kim\n  Niggaz better pray to the lyrical lord\n  That I fall off like the umbilical cord before I fill up the morgue\n  This is how a killer record\n  With the double-edged triple syllable sword, I'm iller than all\n  Dineri, see I'm a literary genius\n  Bury niggaz with words, a cemetery linguist\n  Most rappers are comedy gold\n  They like they boyfriend's sodomy hole, they full of SHIT!\n  Now you could walk through the shadow of death next to that shady street\n  Where the verbal cocaine business and 80's meet\n  Where them niggaz is backwards\n  I'm ridin' with my daughter in the front with the A.K. in the baby seat\n  We them copycat killers, unleashin' venom\n  Commit them lyrical murders and then we re-commit 'em\n  Lyrics be high quality\n  Bitches be givin' me brain, my dick be deep in they heads like psychology\n  Independently pennin' the best words that were ever said\n  The mixture of Leatherhead and Everclear\n  You can't hide, we everywhere\n  Now, picture a grizzly standin' next to a teddy bear\n  [Chorus]\n  Yeah\n  Hello hip-hop, I am here, you dyin yeah and I'm aware\n  A beast so at your wake I'll cry lion's tears\n  And that's no disrespect to the pioneers\n  If we ain't who you tryin' to hear\n  Somethin' either wrong with your eyes and ears\n  I came in this game screamin' Jers'\n  Ain't an MC in our lane to try and merge\n  Try and run with our wave\n  But I'm cool with bein' Eddie Levert seein' my son on stage\n  Gun gon' blaze, act up in this joint\n  And I'ma be Nate Robinson and back up the point\n  Your run's over, run with us or get run over\n  I'm here to save this shit, and I brung soldiers\n  This is lyrical murder\n  Me and every track have a physical merger\n  When I stab it in the chest I'ma bit of a curver\n  So it bleeds to death, like the middle of a unfinished burger\n  Or sometimes I wrap my hand around his throat\n  Cause he think his kick is slick or his little snare is dope\n  Shoot the bass in the face but sometimes I carry a rope\n  To hang the piano keys when they hittin' every note\n  I'm what no beat's able to withstand\n  If you suffer from writer's block and your label got big plans\n  Listen to this fam\n  Slide a little dough out that budget, and hire the instrumental hitman\n  [Chorus]\n"},{"id":25635049,"name":"Lyrical Murderers","trackName":"Lyrical Murderers","artistName":"Slaughterhouse","albumName":"Slaughterhouse","duration":246.073469,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"\"This is the life, we gone!\" - [Royce Da 5'9\"]\n\"I ain't with the leanin and rockin\nThat ain't even seen as a option...\"\nYou're nothin without (Focus)\nWoo, Long Beach (lay your seats back)\nNew Jersey (turn your speakers up)\nBrook-lyn! Detroit!\n[Chorus]\nWe-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers\nWelcome to the Slaughterhouse\n(What you talkin 'bout?)\nWhere we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\nWe-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers\nMan, we own these streets\nAnd the freaks they love us\nWe ain't worried 'bout you fuckers (Slaughterhouse)\nLyrical murderer, blame Rakim\nI'm a sniper shootin' my way into your lame top 10\nPistol at your head if I ain't next to Eminem\nThen I bust in your face like I'm fuckin' Lil' Kim\nNiggaz better pray to the lyrical lord\nThat I fall off like the umbilical cord before I fill up the morgue\nThis is how a killer record\nWith the double-edged triple syllable sword, I'm iller than all\nDineri, see I'm a literary genius\nBury niggaz with words, a cemetery linguist\nMost rappers are comedy gold\nThey like they boyfriend's sodomy hole, they full of SHIT!\nNow you could walk through the shadow of death next to that shady street\nWhere the verbal cocaine business and 80's meet\nWhere them niggaz is backwards\nI'm ridin' with my daughter in the front with the A.K. in the baby seat\nWe them copycat killers, unleashin' venom\nCommit them lyrical murders and then we re-commit 'em\nLyrics be high quality\nBitches be givin' me brain, my dick be deep in they heads like psychology\nIndependently pennin' the best words that were ever said\nThe mixture of Leatherhead and Everclear\nYou can't hide, we everywhere\nNow, picture a grizzly standin' next to a teddy bear\n[Chorus]\nYeah\nHello hip-hop, I am here, you dyin yeah and I'm aware\nA beast so at your wake I'll cry lion's tears\nAnd that's no disrespect to the pioneers\nIf we ain't who you tryin' to hear\nSomethin' either wrong with your eyes and ears\nI came in this game screamin' Jers'\nAin't an MC in our lane to try and merge\nTry and run with our wave\nBut I'm cool with bein' Eddie Levert seein' my son on stage\nGun gon' blaze, act up in this joint\nAnd I'ma be Nate Robinson and back up the point\nYour run's over, run with us or get run over\nI'm here to save this shit, and I brung soldiers\nThis is lyrical murder\nMe and every track have a physical merger\nWhen I stab it in the chest I'ma bit of a curver\nSo it bleeds to death, like the middle of a unfinished burger\nOr sometimes I wrap my hand around his throat\nCause he think his kick is slick or his little snare is dope\nShoot the bass in the face but sometimes I carry a rope\nTo hang the piano keys when they hittin' every note\nI'm what no beat's able to withstand\nIf you suffer from writer's block and your label got big plans\nListen to this fam\nSlide a little dough out that budget, and hire the instrumental hitman\n[Chorus]","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Lyrical Murderers\n  artist: Slaughterhouse\n  album: Slaughterhouse\n  duration_ms: 246073\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  \"This is the life, we gone!\" - [Royce Da 5'9\"]\n  \"I ain't with the leanin and rockin\n  That ain't even seen as a option...\"\n  You're nothin without (Focus)\n  Woo, Long Beach (lay your seats back)\n  New Jersey (turn your speakers up)\n  Brook-lyn! Detroit!\n  [Chorus]\n  We-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers\n  Welcome to the Slaughterhouse\n  (What you talkin 'bout?)\n  Where we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\n  We-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers\n  Man, we own these streets\n  And the freaks they love us\n  We ain't worried 'bout you fuckers (Slaughterhouse)\n  Lyrical murderer, blame Rakim\n  I'm a sniper shootin' my way into your lame top 10\n  Pistol at your head if I ain't next to Eminem\n  Then I bust in your face like I'm fuckin' Lil' Kim\n  Niggaz better pray to the lyrical lord\n  That I fall off like the umbilical cord before I fill up the morgue\n  This is how a killer record\n  With the double-edged triple syllable sword, I'm iller than all\n  Dineri, see I'm a literary genius\n  Bury niggaz with words, a cemetery linguist\n  Most rappers are comedy gold\n  They like they boyfriend's sodomy hole, they full of SHIT!\n  Now you could walk through the shadow of death next to that shady street\n  Where the verbal cocaine business and 80's meet\n  Where them niggaz is backwards\n  I'm ridin' with my daughter in the front with the A.K. in the baby seat\n  We them copycat killers, unleashin' venom\n  Commit them lyrical murders and then we re-commit 'em\n  Lyrics be high quality\n  Bitches be givin' me brain, my dick be deep in they heads like psychology\n  Independently pennin' the best words that were ever said\n  The mixture of Leatherhead and Everclear\n  You can't hide, we everywhere\n  Now, picture a grizzly standin' next to a teddy bear\n  [Chorus]\n  Yeah\n  Hello hip-hop, I am here, you dyin yeah and I'm aware\n  A beast so at your wake I'll cry lion's tears\n  And that's no disrespect to the pioneers\n  If we ain't who you tryin' to hear\n  Somethin' either wrong with your eyes and ears\n  I came in this game screamin' Jers'\n  Ain't an MC in our lane to try and merge\n  Try and run with our wave\n  But I'm cool with bein' Eddie Levert seein' my son on stage\n  Gun gon' blaze, act up in this joint\n  And I'ma be Nate Robinson and back up the point\n  Your run's over, run with us or get run over\n  I'm here to save this shit, and I brung soldiers\n  This is lyrical murder\n  Me and every track have a physical merger\n  When I stab it in the chest I'ma bit of a curver\n  So it bleeds to death, like the middle of a unfinished burger\n  Or sometimes I wrap my hand around his throat\n  Cause he think his kick is slick or his little snare is dope\n  Shoot the bass in the face but sometimes I carry a rope\n  To hang the piano keys when they hittin' every note\n  I'm what no beat's able to withstand\n  If you suffer from writer's block and your label got big plans\n  Listen to this fam\n  Slide a little dough out that budget, and hire the instrumental hitman\n  [Chorus]\n"},{"id":28647707,"name":"Lyrical Murderers","trackName":"Lyrical Murderers","artistName":"Slaughterhouse;K‐Young","albumName":"Slaughterhouse","duration":244.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"This is the life, we gone\nI ain't with the leanin' and rockin'\nThat ain't even seen as a option\n\nYou're nothin' without focus\nWoo, Long Beach\n(Lay your seats back)\nNew Jersey\n(Turn your speakers up)\nBrooklyn\n\nWe we, we lyrical murderers\n(Detroit)\nWelcome to the Slaughterhouse\n(What you talkin 'bout?)\nWhere we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\n\nWe, we, we lyrical murderers\nMan, we own these streets and the freaks they love us\nWe ain't worried 'bout you fuckers\n(Slaughterhouse)\n\nLyrical murderer, blame Rakim\nI'm a sniper shootin' my way into your lame top 10\nPistol at your head if I ain't next to Eminem\nThen I bust in your face like I'm fuckin' Lil' Kim\n\nNiggards, better pray to the lyrical Lord\nThat I fall off like the umbilical cord before I fill up the morgue\nThis is how a killer record\nWith the double edged triple syllable sword, I'm iller than all\n\nDineri, see I'm a literary genius\nBury niggaz with words, a cemetery linguist\nMost rappers are comedy gold\nThey like they boyfriend's sodomy hole, they full of shit\n\nNow you could walk through the shadow of death next to that shady street\nWhere the verbal cocaine business and 80's meet\nWhere them niggaz is backwards\nI'm ridin' with my daughter in the front with the A.K. in the baby seat\n\nWe them copycat killers, unleashin' venom\nCommit them lyrical murders and then we re-commit 'em\nLyrics be high quality, bitches be givin' me brain\nMy dick be deep in they heads like psychology\n\nIndependently pennin' the best words that were ever said\nThe mixture of Leatherhead and Everclear\nYou can't hide, we everywhere\nNow, picture a grizzly standin' next to a teddy bear\n\nWe we, we lyrical murderers\nWelcome to the Slaughterhouse\n(What you talkin 'bout?)\nWhere we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\n\nWe, we, we lyrical murderers\nMan, we own these streets and the freaks they love us\nWe ain't worried 'bout you fuckers\n(Slaughterhouse)\n\nYeah, hello hip-hop, I am here\nYou dyin'? Yeah, and I'm aware\nA beast so at your wake I'll cry lion's tears\nAnd that's no disrespect to the pioneers\nIf we ain't who you tryin' to hear\nSomethin' either wrong with your eyes and ears\n\nI came in this game screamin' Jers'\nAin't an MC in our lane to try and merge\nTry and run with our wave\nBut I'm cool with bein' Eddie Levert seein' my son on stage\n\nGun gon' blaze, act up in this joint\nAnd I'm a be Nate Robinson and back up the point\nYour run's over, run with us or get run over\nI'm here to save this shit and I brung soldiers\n\nThis is lyrical murder\nMe and every track have a physical merger\nWhen I stab it in the chest I'm a bit of a curver\nSo it bleeds to death, like the middle of a unfinished burger\n\nOr sometimes I wrap my hand around his throat\n'Cause he think his kick is slick or his little snare is dope\nShoot the bass in the face but sometimes I carry a rope\nTo hang the piano keys when they hittin' every note\n\nI'm what no beat's able to withstand\nIf you suffer from writer's block and your label got big plans\nListen to this fam, slide a little dough out that budget\nAnd hire the instrumental hitman\n\nWe we, we lyrical murderers\nWelcome to the Slaughterhouse\n(What you talkin 'bout?)\nWhere we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\n\nWe, we, we lyrical murderers\nMan, we own these streets and the freaks they love us\nWe ain't worried 'bout you fuckers\n(Slaughterhouse)","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Lyrical Murderers\n  artist: Slaughterhouse;K‐Young\n  album: Slaughterhouse\n  duration_ms: 244000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  This is the life, we gone\n  I ain't with the leanin' and rockin'\n  That ain't even seen as a option\n\n  You're nothin' without focus\n  Woo, Long Beach\n  (Lay your seats back)\n  New Jersey\n  (Turn your speakers up)\n  Brooklyn\n\n  We we, we lyrical murderers\n  (Detroit)\n  Welcome to the Slaughterhouse\n  (What you talkin 'bout?)\n  Where we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\n\n  We, we, we lyrical murderers\n  Man, we own these streets and the freaks they love us\n  We ain't worried 'bout you fuckers\n  (Slaughterhouse)\n\n  Lyrical murderer, blame Rakim\n  I'm a sniper shootin' my way into your lame top 10\n  Pistol at your head if I ain't next to Eminem\n  Then I bust in your face like I'm fuckin' Lil' Kim\n\n  Niggards, better pray to the lyrical Lord\n  That I fall off like the umbilical cord before I fill up the morgue\n  This is how a killer record\n  With the double edged triple syllable sword, I'm iller than all\n\n  Dineri, see I'm a literary genius\n  Bury niggaz with words, a cemetery linguist\n  Most rappers are comedy gold\n  They like they boyfriend's sodomy hole, they full of shit\n\n  Now you could walk through the shadow of death next to that shady street\n  Where the verbal cocaine business and 80's meet\n  Where them niggaz is backwards\n  I'm ridin' with my daughter in the front with the A.K. in the baby seat\n\n  We them copycat killers, unleashin' venom\n  Commit them lyrical murders and then we re-commit 'em\n  Lyrics be high quality, bitches be givin' me brain\n  My dick be deep in they heads like psychology\n\n  Independently pennin' the best words that were ever said\n  The mixture of Leatherhead and Everclear\n  You can't hide, we everywhere\n  Now, picture a grizzly standin' next to a teddy bear\n\n  We we, we lyrical murderers\n  Welcome to the Slaughterhouse\n  (What you talkin 'bout?)\n  Where we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\n\n  We, we, we lyrical murderers\n  Man, we own these streets and the freaks they love us\n  We ain't worried 'bout you fuckers\n  (Slaughterhouse)\n\n  Yeah, hello hip-hop, I am here\n  You dyin'? Yeah, and I'm aware\n  A beast so at your wake I'll cry lion's tears\n  And that's no disrespect to the pioneers\n  If we ain't who you tryin' to hear\n  Somethin' either wrong with your eyes and ears\n\n  I came in this game screamin' Jers'\n  Ain't an MC in our lane to try and merge\n  Try and run with our wave\n  But I'm cool with bein' Eddie Levert seein' my son on stage\n\n  Gun gon' blaze, act up in this joint\n  And I'm a be Nate Robinson and back up the point\n  Your run's over, run with us or get run over\n  I'm here to save this shit and I brung soldiers\n\n  This is lyrical murder\n  Me and every track have a physical merger\n  When I stab it in the chest I'm a bit of a curver\n  So it bleeds to death, like the middle of a unfinished burger\n\n  Or sometimes I wrap my hand around his throat\n  'Cause he think his kick is slick or his little snare is dope\n  Shoot the bass in the face but sometimes I carry a rope\n  To hang the piano keys when they hittin' every note\n\n  I'm what no beat's able to withstand\n  If you suffer from writer's block and your label got big plans\n  Listen to this fam, slide a little dough out that budget\n  And hire the instrumental hitman\n\n  We we, we lyrical murderers\n  Welcome to the Slaughterhouse\n  (What you talkin 'bout?)\n  Where we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\n\n  We, we, we lyrical murderers\n  Man, we own these streets and the freaks they love us\n  We ain't worried 'bout you fuckers\n  (Slaughterhouse)\n"},{"id":10252499,"name":"Lyrical Murderers","trackName":"Lyrical Murderers","artistName":"Slaughterhouse feat. K‐Young","albumName":"Slaughterhouse","duration":244.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"This is the life, we gone\nI ain't with the leanin' and rockin'\nThat ain't even seen as a option\n\nYou're nothin' without focus\nWoo, Long Beach\n(Lay your seats back)\nNew Jersey\n(Turn your speakers up)\nBrooklyn\n\nWe we, we lyrical murderers\n(Detroit)\nWelcome to the Slaughterhouse\n(What you talkin 'bout?)\nWhere we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\n\nWe, we, we lyrical murderers\nMan, we own these streets and the freaks they love us\nWe ain't worried 'bout you fuckers\n(Slaughterhouse)\n\nLyrical murderer, blame Rakim\nI'm a sniper shootin' my way into your lame top 10\nPistol at your head if I ain't next to Eminem\nThen I bust in your face like I'm fuckin' Lil' Kim\n\nNiggards, better pray to the lyrical Lord\nThat I fall off like the umbilical cord before I fill up the morgue\nThis is how a killer record\nWith the double edged triple syllable sword, I'm iller than all\n\nDineri, see I'm a literary genius\nBury niggaz with words, a cemetery linguist\nMost rappers are comedy gold\nThey like they boyfriend's sodomy hole, they full of shit\n\nNow you could walk through the shadow of death next to that shady street\nWhere the verbal cocaine business and 80's meet\nWhere them niggaz is backwards\nI'm ridin' with my daughter in the front with the A.K. in the baby seat\n\nWe them copycat killers, unleashin' venom\nCommit them lyrical murders and then we re-commit 'em\nLyrics be high quality, bitches be givin' me brain\nMy dick be deep in they heads like psychology\n\nIndependently pennin' the best words that were ever said\nThe mixture of Leatherhead and Everclear\nYou can't hide, we everywhere\nNow, picture a grizzly standin' next to a teddy bear\n\nWe we, we lyrical murderers\nWelcome to the Slaughterhouse\n(What you talkin 'bout?)\nWhere we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\n\nWe, we, we lyrical murderers\nMan, we own these streets and the freaks they love us\nWe ain't worried 'bout you fuckers\n(Slaughterhouse)\n\nYeah, hello hip-hop, I am here\nYou dyin'? Yeah, and I'm aware\nA beast so at your wake I'll cry lion's tears\nAnd that's no disrespect to the pioneers\nIf we ain't who you tryin' to hear\nSomethin' either wrong with your eyes and ears\n\nI came in this game screamin' Jers'\nAin't an MC in our lane to try and merge\nTry and run with our wave\nBut I'm cool with bein' Eddie Levert seein' my son on stage\n\nGun gon' blaze, act up in this joint\nAnd I'm a be Nate Robinson and back up the point\nYour run's over, run with us or get run over\nI'm here to save this shit and I brung soldiers\n\nThis is lyrical murder\nMe and every track have a physical merger\nWhen I stab it in the chest I'm a bit of a curver\nSo it bleeds to death, like the middle of a unfinished burger\n\nOr sometimes I wrap my hand around his throat\n'Cause he think his kick is slick or his little snare is dope\nShoot the bass in the face but sometimes I carry a rope\nTo hang the piano keys when they hittin' every note\n\nI'm what no beat's able to withstand\nIf you suffer from writer's block and your label got big plans\nListen to this fam, slide a little dough out that budget\nAnd hire the instrumental hitman\n\nWe we, we lyrical murderers\nWelcome to the Slaughterhouse\n(What you talkin 'bout?)\nWhere we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\n\nWe, we, we lyrical murderers\nMan, we own these streets and the freaks they love us\nWe ain't worried 'bout you fuckers\n(Slaughterhouse)","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Lyrical Murderers\n  artist: Slaughterhouse feat. K‐Young\n  album: Slaughterhouse\n  duration_ms: 244000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  This is the life, we gone\n  I ain't with the leanin' and rockin'\n  That ain't even seen as a option\n\n  You're nothin' without focus\n  Woo, Long Beach\n  (Lay your seats back)\n  New Jersey\n  (Turn your speakers up)\n  Brooklyn\n\n  We we, we lyrical murderers\n  (Detroit)\n  Welcome to the Slaughterhouse\n  (What you talkin 'bout?)\n  Where we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\n\n  We, we, we lyrical murderers\n  Man, we own these streets and the freaks they love us\n  We ain't worried 'bout you fuckers\n  (Slaughterhouse)\n\n  Lyrical murderer, blame Rakim\n  I'm a sniper shootin' my way into your lame top 10\n  Pistol at your head if I ain't next to Eminem\n  Then I bust in your face like I'm fuckin' Lil' Kim\n\n  Niggards, better pray to the lyrical Lord\n  That I fall off like the umbilical cord before I fill up the morgue\n  This is how a killer record\n  With the double edged triple syllable sword, I'm iller than all\n\n  Dineri, see I'm a literary genius\n  Bury niggaz with words, a cemetery linguist\n  Most rappers are comedy gold\n  They like they boyfriend's sodomy hole, they full of shit\n\n  Now you could walk through the shadow of death next to that shady street\n  Where the verbal cocaine business and 80's meet\n  Where them niggaz is backwards\n  I'm ridin' with my daughter in the front with the A.K. in the baby seat\n\n  We them copycat killers, unleashin' venom\n  Commit them lyrical murders and then we re-commit 'em\n  Lyrics be high quality, bitches be givin' me brain\n  My dick be deep in they heads like psychology\n\n  Independently pennin' the best words that were ever said\n  The mixture of Leatherhead and Everclear\n  You can't hide, we everywhere\n  Now, picture a grizzly standin' next to a teddy bear\n\n  We we, we lyrical murderers\n  Welcome to the Slaughterhouse\n  (What you talkin 'bout?)\n  Where we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\n\n  We, we, we lyrical murderers\n  Man, we own these streets and the freaks they love us\n  We ain't worried 'bout you fuckers\n  (Slaughterhouse)\n\n  Yeah, hello hip-hop, I am here\n  You dyin'? Yeah, and I'm aware\n  A beast so at your wake I'll cry lion's tears\n  And that's no disrespect to the pioneers\n  If we ain't who you tryin' to hear\n  Somethin' either wrong with your eyes and ears\n\n  I came in this game screamin' Jers'\n  Ain't an MC in our lane to try and merge\n  Try and run with our wave\n  But I'm cool with bein' Eddie Levert seein' my son on stage\n\n  Gun gon' blaze, act up in this joint\n  And I'm a be Nate Robinson and back up the point\n  Your run's over, run with us or get run over\n  I'm here to save this shit and I brung soldiers\n\n  This is lyrical murder\n  Me and every track have a physical merger\n  When I stab it in the chest I'm a bit of a curver\n  So it bleeds to death, like the middle of a unfinished burger\n\n  Or sometimes I wrap my hand around his throat\n  'Cause he think his kick is slick or his little snare is dope\n  Shoot the bass in the face but sometimes I carry a rope\n  To hang the piano keys when they hittin' every note\n\n  I'm what no beat's able to withstand\n  If you suffer from writer's block and your label got big plans\n  Listen to this fam, slide a little dough out that budget\n  And hire the instrumental hitman\n\n  We we, we lyrical murderers\n  Welcome to the Slaughterhouse\n  (What you talkin 'bout?)\n  Where we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\n\n  We, we, we lyrical murderers\n  Man, we own these streets and the freaks they love us\n  We ain't worried 'bout you fuckers\n  (Slaughterhouse)\n"},{"id":28419530,"name":"Lyrical Murderers","trackName":"Lyrical Murderers","artistName":"Slaughterhouse feat. Kay Young","albumName":"Slaughterhouse","duration":246.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"\"This is the life, we gone!\" -\n\"I ain't with the leanin and rockin\nThat ain't even seen as a option...\" -\n\nYou're nothin without (Focus)\nWoo. Long Beach (lay your seats back)\nNew Jersey (turn your speakers up)\nBrook-lyn! Detroit!\n\nWe-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers\nWelcome to the Slaughterhouse\n(What you talkin 'bout?)\nWhere we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\nWe-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers\nMan, we own these streets\nAnd the freaks they love us\nWe ain't worried 'bout you fuckers (Slaughterhouse)\n\nLyrical murderer, blame Rakim\nI'm a sniper shootin my way into your lame top 10\nPistol at your head if I ain't next to Eminem\nThen I bust in your face like I'm fuckin Lil' Kim\nNiggaz better pray to the lyrical lord\nthat I fall off like the umbilical cord before I fill up the morgue\nThis is how a killer record\nwith the double-edged triple syllable sword, I'm iller than all\nDineri, see I'm a literary genius\nBury niggaz with words, a cemetery linguist\nMost rappers are comedy gold\nThey like they boyfriend's sodomy hole - they full of SHIT!\n\nNow you could walk through the shadow of death next to that shady street\nWhere the verbal cocaine business and 80's meet\nWhere them niggaz is backwards\nI'm ridin with my daughter in the front with the A.K. in the baby seat\nWe them copycat killers, unleashin venom\nCommit them lyrical murders and then we re-commit 'em\nLyrics be high quality\nBitches be givin me brain, my dick be deep in they heads like psychology\nIndependently pennin the best words that were ever said\nThe mixture of Leatherhead and Everclear\nYou can't hide, we everywhere\nNow, picture a grizzly standin next to a teddy bear\n\nYeah\nHello hip-hop, I am here, you dyin yeah and I'm aware\nA beast so at your wake I'll cry lion's tears\nAnd that's no disrespect to the pioneers\nIf we ain't who you tryin to hear\nSomethin either wrong with your eyes and ears\nI came in this game screamin Jers'\nAin't an MC in our lane to try and merge\nTry and run with our wave\nBut I'm cool with bein Eddie Levert seein my son on stage\nGun gon' blaze, act up in this joint\nAnd I'ma be Nate Robinson and back up the point\nYour run's over, run with us or get run over\nI'm here to save this shit, and I brung soldiers\n\nThis is lyrical murder\nMe and every track have a physical merger\nWhen I stab it in the chest I'ma bit of a curver\nSo it bleeds to death, like the middle of a unfinished burger\nOr sometimes I wrap my hand around his throat\nCause he think his kick is slick or his little snare is dope\nShoot the bass in the face but sometimes I carry a rope\nto hang the piano keys when they hittin every note\nI'm what no beat's able to withstand\nIf you suffer from writer's block and your label got big plans\nListen to this fam\nSlide a little dough out that budget, and hire the instrumental hitman","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.55] \"This is the life, we gone!\" -\n[00:02.15] \"I ain't with the leanin and rockin\n[00:03.25] That ain't even seen as a option...\" -\n[00:04.98] You're nothin without (Focus)\n[00:13.62] Woo. Long Beach (lay your seats back)\n[00:18.82] New Jersey (turn your speakers up)\n[00:21.63] Brook-lyn! Detroit!\n[00:23.88] We-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers\n[00:27.73] Welcome to the Slaughterhouse\n[00:29.80] (What you talkin 'bout?)\n[00:30.82] Where we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\n[00:33.23] We-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers\n[00:37.68] Man, we own these streets\n[00:40.17] And the freaks they love us\n[00:41.95] We ain't worried 'bout you fuckers (Slaughterhouse)\n[00:44.19] Lyrical murderer, blame Rakim\n[00:47.13] I'm a sniper shootin my way into your lame top 10\n[00:49.97] Pistol at your head if I ain't next to Eminem\n[00:52.66] Then I bust in your face like I'm fuckin Lil' Kim\n[00:55.25] Niggaz better pray to the lyrical lord\n[00:57.43] that I fall off like the umbilical cord before I fill up the morgue\n[00:59.65] This is how a killer record\n[01:03.24] with the double-edged triple syllable sword, I'm iller than all\n[01:05.90] Dineri, see I'm a literary genius\n[01:08.36] Bury niggaz with words, a cemetery linguist\n[01:11.07] Most rappers are comedy gold\n[01:13.02] They like they boyfriend's sodomy hole - they full of SHIT!\n[01:15.88] Now you could walk through the shadow of death next to that shady street\n[01:19.05] Where the verbal cocaine business and 80's meet\n[01:21.71] Where them niggaz is backwards\n[01:23.23] I'm ridin with my daughter in the front with the A.K. in the baby seat\n[01:26.71] We them copycat killers, unleashin venom\n[01:29.47] Commit them lyrical murders and then we re-commit 'em\n[01:32.19] Lyrics be high quality\n[01:33.49] Bitches be givin me brain, my dick be deep in they heads like psychology\n[01:37.29] Independently pennin the best words that were ever said\n[01:39.92] The mixture of Leatherhead and Everclear\n[01:42.93] You can't hide, we everywhere\n[01:44.68] Now, picture a grizzly standin next to a teddy bear\n[01:49.35] Yeah\n[02:10.24] Hello hip-hop, I am here, you dyin yeah and I'm aware\n[02:11.00] A beast so at your wake I'll cry lion's tears\n[02:13.69] And that's no disrespect to the pioneers\n[02:15.13] If we ain't who you tryin to hear\n[02:17.68] Somethin either wrong with your eyes and ears\n[02:19.65] I came in this game screamin Jers'\n[02:21.52] Ain't an MC in our lane to try and merge\n[02:24.31] Try and run with our wave\n[02:27.62] But I'm cool with bein Eddie Levert seein my son on stage\n[02:29.50] Gun gon' blaze, act up in this joint\n[02:32.07] And I'ma be Nate Robinson and back up the point\n[02:34.85] Your run's over, run with us or get run over\n[02:37.95] I'm here to save this shit, and I brung soldiers\n[02:40.61] This is lyrical murder\n[02:42.15] Me and every track have a physical merger\n[02:44.60] When I stab it in the chest I'ma bit of a curver\n[02:46.98] So it bleeds to death, like the middle of a unfinished burger\n[02:50.86] Or sometimes I wrap my hand around his throat\n[02:52.98] Cause he think his kick is slick or his little snare is dope\n[02:55.64] Shoot the bass in the face but sometimes I carry a rope\n[02:58.18] to hang the piano keys when they hittin every note\n[03:01.42] I'm what no beat's able to withstand\n[03:03.55] If you suffer from writer's block and your label got big plans\n[03:06.36] Listen to this fam\n[03:08.01] Slide a little dough out that budget, and hire the instrumental hitman\n[03:10.25] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Lyrical Murderers\n  artist: Slaughterhouse feat. Kay Young\n  album: Slaughterhouse\n  duration_ms: 246000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: '\"This is the life, we gone!\" -'\n  start_ms: 1550\n  end_ms: 2150\n- text: '\"I ain''t with the leanin and rockin'\n  start_ms: 2150\n  end_ms: 3250\n- text: That ain't even seen as a option...\" -\n  start_ms: 3250\n  end_ms: 4980\n- text: You're nothin without (Focus)\n  start_ms: 4980\n  end_ms: 13620\n- text: Woo. Long Beach (lay your seats back)\n  start_ms: 13620\n  end_ms: 18820\n- text: New Jersey (turn your speakers up)\n  start_ms: 18820\n  end_ms: 21630\n- text: Brook-lyn! Detroit!\n  start_ms: 21630\n  end_ms: 23880\n- text: We-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers\n  start_ms: 23880\n  end_ms: 27730\n- text: Welcome to the Slaughterhouse\n  start_ms: 27730\n  end_ms: 29800\n- text: (What you talkin 'bout?)\n  start_ms: 29800\n  end_ms: 30820\n- text: Where we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\n  start_ms: 30820\n  end_ms: 33230\n- text: We-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers\n  start_ms: 33230\n  end_ms: 37680\n- text: Man, we own these streets\n  start_ms: 37680\n  end_ms: 40170\n- text: And the freaks they love us\n  start_ms: 40170\n  end_ms: 41950\n- text: We ain't worried 'bout you fuckers (Slaughterhouse)\n  start_ms: 41950\n  end_ms: 44190\n- text: Lyrical murderer, blame Rakim\n  start_ms: 44190\n  end_ms: 47130\n- text: I'm a sniper shootin my way into your lame top 10\n  start_ms: 47130\n  end_ms: 49970\n- text: Pistol at your head if I ain't next to Eminem\n  start_ms: 49970\n  end_ms: 52660\n- text: Then I bust in your face like I'm fuckin Lil' Kim\n  start_ms: 52660\n  end_ms: 55250\n- text: Niggaz better pray to the lyrical lord\n  start_ms: 55250\n  end_ms: 57430\n- text: that I fall off like the umbilical cord before I fill up the morgue\n  start_ms: 57430\n  end_ms: 59650\n- text: This is how a killer record\n  start_ms: 59650\n  end_ms: 63240\n- text: with the double-edged triple syllable sword, I'm iller than all\n  start_ms: 63240\n  end_ms: 65900\n- text: Dineri, see I'm a literary genius\n  start_ms: 65900\n  end_ms: 68360\n- text: Bury niggaz with words, a cemetery linguist\n  start_ms: 68360\n  end_ms: 71070\n- text: Most rappers are comedy gold\n  start_ms: 71070\n  end_ms: 73020\n- text: They like they boyfriend's sodomy hole - they full of SHIT!\n  start_ms: 73020\n  end_ms: 75880\n- text: Now you could walk through the shadow of death next to that shady street\n  start_ms: 75880\n  end_ms: 79050\n- text: Where the verbal cocaine business and 80's meet\n  start_ms: 79050\n  end_ms: 81710\n- text: Where them niggaz is backwards\n  start_ms: 81710\n  end_ms: 83230\n- text: I'm ridin with my daughter in the front with the A.K. in the baby seat\n  start_ms: 83230\n  end_ms: 86710\n- text: We them copycat killers, unleashin venom\n  start_ms: 86710\n  end_ms: 89470\n- text: Commit them lyrical murders and then we re-commit 'em\n  start_ms: 89470\n  end_ms: 92190\n- text: Lyrics be high quality\n  start_ms: 92190\n  end_ms: 93490\n- text: Bitches be givin me brain, my dick be deep in they heads like psychology\n  start_ms: 93490\n  end_ms: 97290\n- text: Independently pennin the best words that were ever said\n  start_ms: 97290\n  end_ms: 99920\n- text: The mixture of Leatherhead and Everclear\n  start_ms: 99920\n  end_ms: 102930\n- text: You can't hide, we everywhere\n  start_ms: 102930\n  end_ms: 104680\n- text: Now, picture a grizzly standin next to a teddy bear\n  start_ms: 104680\n  end_ms: 109350\n- text: Yeah\n  start_ms: 109350\n  end_ms: 130240\n- text: Hello hip-hop, I am here, you dyin yeah and I'm aware\n  start_ms: 130240\n  end_ms: 131000\n- text: A beast so at your wake I'll cry lion's tears\n  start_ms: 131000\n  end_ms: 133690\n- text: And that's no disrespect to the pioneers\n  start_ms: 133690\n  end_ms: 135130\n- text: If we ain't who you tryin to hear\n  start_ms: 135130\n  end_ms: 137680\n- text: Somethin either wrong with your eyes and ears\n  start_ms: 137680\n  end_ms: 139650\n- text: I came in this game screamin Jers'\n  start_ms: 139650\n  end_ms: 141520\n- text: Ain't an MC in our lane to try and merge\n  start_ms: 141520\n  end_ms: 144310\n- text: Try and run with our wave\n  start_ms: 144310\n  end_ms: 147620\n- text: But I'm cool with bein Eddie Levert seein my son on stage\n  start_ms: 147620\n  end_ms: 149500\n- text: Gun gon' blaze, act up in this joint\n  start_ms: 149500\n  end_ms: 152070\n- text: And I'ma be Nate Robinson and back up the point\n  start_ms: 152070\n  end_ms: 154850\n- text: Your run's over, run with us or get run over\n  start_ms: 154850\n  end_ms: 157950\n- text: I'm here to save this shit, and I brung soldiers\n  start_ms: 157950\n  end_ms: 160610\n- text: This is lyrical murder\n  start_ms: 160610\n  end_ms: 162150\n- text: Me and every track have a physical merger\n  start_ms: 162150\n  end_ms: 164600\n- text: When I stab it in the chest I'ma bit of a curver\n  start_ms: 164600\n  end_ms: 166980\n- text: So it bleeds to death, like the middle of a unfinished burger\n  start_ms: 166980\n  end_ms: 170860\n- text: Or sometimes I wrap my hand around his throat\n  start_ms: 170860\n  end_ms: 172980\n- text: Cause he think his kick is slick or his little snare is dope\n  start_ms: 172980\n  end_ms: 175640\n- text: Shoot the bass in the face but sometimes I carry a rope\n  start_ms: 175640\n  end_ms: 178180\n- text: to hang the piano keys when they hittin every note\n  start_ms: 178180\n  end_ms: 181420\n- text: I'm what no beat's able to withstand\n  start_ms: 181420\n  end_ms: 183550\n- text: If you suffer from writer's block and your label got big plans\n  start_ms: 183550\n  end_ms: 186360\n- text: Listen to this fam\n  start_ms: 186360\n  end_ms: 188010\n- text: Slide a little dough out that budget, and hire the instrumental hitman\n  start_ms: 188010\n  end_ms: 190250\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 190250\nplain: |-\n  \"This is the life, we gone!\" -\n  \"I ain't with the leanin and rockin\n  That ain't even seen as a option...\" -\n\n  You're nothin without (Focus)\n  Woo. Long Beach (lay your seats back)\n  New Jersey (turn your speakers up)\n  Brook-lyn! Detroit!\n\n  We-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers\n  Welcome to the Slaughterhouse\n  (What you talkin 'bout?)\n  Where we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\n  We-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers\n  Man, we own these streets\n  And the freaks they love us\n  We ain't worried 'bout you fuckers (Slaughterhouse)\n\n  Lyrical murderer, blame Rakim\n  I'm a sniper shootin my way into your lame top 10\n  Pistol at your head if I ain't next to Eminem\n  Then I bust in your face like I'm fuckin Lil' Kim\n  Niggaz better pray to the lyrical lord\n  that I fall off like the umbilical cord before I fill up the morgue\n  This is how a killer record\n  with the double-edged triple syllable sword, I'm iller than all\n  Dineri, see I'm a literary genius\n  Bury niggaz with words, a cemetery linguist\n  Most rappers are comedy gold\n  They like they boyfriend's sodomy hole - they full of SHIT!\n\n  Now you could walk through the shadow of death next to that shady street\n  Where the verbal cocaine business and 80's meet\n  Where them niggaz is backwards\n  I'm ridin with my daughter in the front with the A.K. in the baby seat\n  We them copycat killers, unleashin venom\n  Commit them lyrical murders and then we re-commit 'em\n  Lyrics be high quality\n  Bitches be givin me brain, my dick be deep in they heads like psychology\n  Independently pennin the best words that were ever said\n  The mixture of Leatherhead and Everclear\n  You can't hide, we everywhere\n  Now, picture a grizzly standin next to a teddy bear\n\n  Yeah\n  Hello hip-hop, I am here, you dyin yeah and I'm aware\n  A beast so at your wake I'll cry lion's tears\n  And that's no disrespect to the pioneers\n  If we ain't who you tryin to hear\n  Somethin either wrong with your eyes and ears\n  I came in this game screamin Jers'\n  Ain't an MC in our lane to try and merge\n  Try and run with our wave\n  But I'm cool with bein Eddie Levert seein my son on stage\n  Gun gon' blaze, act up in this joint\n  And I'ma be Nate Robinson and back up the point\n  Your run's over, run with us or get run over\n  I'm here to save this shit, and I brung soldiers\n\n  This is lyrical murder\n  Me and every track have a physical merger\n  When I stab it in the chest I'ma bit of a curver\n  So it bleeds to death, like the middle of a unfinished burger\n  Or sometimes I wrap my hand around his throat\n  Cause he think his kick is slick or his little snare is dope\n  Shoot the bass in the face but sometimes I carry a rope\n  to hang the piano keys when they hittin every note\n  I'm what no beat's able to withstand\n  If you suffer from writer's block and your label got big plans\n  Listen to this fam\n  Slide a little dough out that budget, and hire the instrumental hitman\n"},{"id":14090355,"name":"Lyrical Murderers (feat. K-Young)","trackName":"Lyrical Murderers (feat. K-Young)","artistName":"Slaughterhouse","albumName":"Slaughterhouse","duration":244.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"This is the life, we gone\nI ain't with the leanin' and rockin'\nThat ain't even seen as a option\n\nYou're nothin' without focus\nWoo, Long Beach\n(Lay your seats back)\nNew Jersey\n(Turn your speakers up)\nBrooklyn\n\nWe we, we lyrical murderers\n(Detroit)\nWelcome to the Slaughterhouse\n(What you talkin 'bout?)\nWhere we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\n\nWe, we, we lyrical murderers\nMan, we own these streets and the freaks they love us\nWe ain't worried 'bout you fuckers\n(Slaughterhouse)\n\nLyrical murderer, blame Rakim\nI'm a sniper shootin' my way into your lame top 10\nPistol at your head if I ain't next to Eminem\nThen I bust in your face like I'm fuckin' Lil' Kim\n\nNiggards, better pray to the lyrical Lord\nThat I fall off like the umbilical cord before I fill up the morgue\nThis is how a killer record\nWith the double edged triple syllable sword, I'm iller than all\n\nDineri, see I'm a literary genius\nBury niggaz with words, a cemetery linguist\nMost rappers are comedy gold\nThey like they boyfriend's sodomy hole, they full of shit\n\nNow you could walk through the shadow of death next to that shady street\nWhere the verbal cocaine business and 80's meet\nWhere them niggaz is backwards\nI'm ridin' with my daughter in the front with the A.K. in the baby seat\n\nWe them copycat killers, unleashin' venom\nCommit them lyrical murders and then we re-commit 'em\nLyrics be high quality, bitches be givin' me brain\nMy dick be deep in they heads like psychology\n\nIndependently pennin' the best words that were ever said\nThe mixture of Leatherhead and Everclear\nYou can't hide, we everywhere\nNow, picture a grizzly standin' next to a teddy bear\n\nWe we, we lyrical murderers\nWelcome to the Slaughterhouse\n(What you talkin 'bout?)\nWhere we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\n\nWe, we, we lyrical murderers\nMan, we own these streets and the freaks they love us\nWe ain't worried 'bout you fuckers\n(Slaughterhouse)\n\nYeah, hello hip-hop, I am here\nYou dyin'? Yeah, and I'm aware\nA beast so at your wake I'll cry lion's tears\nAnd that's no disrespect to the pioneers\nIf we ain't who you tryin' to hear\nSomethin' either wrong with your eyes and ears\n\nI came in this game screamin' Jers'\nAin't an MC in our lane to try and merge\nTry and run with our wave\nBut I'm cool with bein' Eddie Levert seein' my son on stage\n\nGun gon' blaze, act up in this joint\nAnd I'm a be Nate Robinson and back up the point\nYour run's over, run with us or get run over\nI'm here to save this shit and I brung soldiers\n\nThis is lyrical murder\nMe and every track have a physical merger\nWhen I stab it in the chest I'm a bit of a curver\nSo it bleeds to death, like the middle of a unfinished burger\n\nOr sometimes I wrap my hand around his throat\n'Cause he think his kick is slick or his little snare is dope\nShoot the bass in the face but sometimes I carry a rope\nTo hang the piano keys when they hittin' every note\n\nI'm what no beat's able to withstand\nIf you suffer from writer's block and your label got big plans\nListen to this fam, slide a little dough out that budget\nAnd hire the instrumental hitman\n\nWe we, we lyrical murderers\nWelcome to the Slaughterhouse\n(What you talkin 'bout?)\nWhere we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\n\nWe, we, we lyrical murderers\nMan, we own these streets and the freaks they love us\nWe ain't worried 'bout you fuckers\n(Slaughterhouse)","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Lyrical Murderers (feat. K-Young)\n  artist: Slaughterhouse\n  album: Slaughterhouse\n  duration_ms: 244000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  This is the life, we gone\n  I ain't with the leanin' and rockin'\n  That ain't even seen as a option\n\n  You're nothin' without focus\n  Woo, Long Beach\n  (Lay your seats back)\n  New Jersey\n  (Turn your speakers up)\n  Brooklyn\n\n  We we, we lyrical murderers\n  (Detroit)\n  Welcome to the Slaughterhouse\n  (What you talkin 'bout?)\n  Where we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\n\n  We, we, we lyrical murderers\n  Man, we own these streets and the freaks they love us\n  We ain't worried 'bout you fuckers\n  (Slaughterhouse)\n\n  Lyrical murderer, blame Rakim\n  I'm a sniper shootin' my way into your lame top 10\n  Pistol at your head if I ain't next to Eminem\n  Then I bust in your face like I'm fuckin' Lil' Kim\n\n  Niggards, better pray to the lyrical Lord\n  That I fall off like the umbilical cord before I fill up the morgue\n  This is how a killer record\n  With the double edged triple syllable sword, I'm iller than all\n\n  Dineri, see I'm a literary genius\n  Bury niggaz with words, a cemetery linguist\n  Most rappers are comedy gold\n  They like they boyfriend's sodomy hole, they full of shit\n\n  Now you could walk through the shadow of death next to that shady street\n  Where the verbal cocaine business and 80's meet\n  Where them niggaz is backwards\n  I'm ridin' with my daughter in the front with the A.K. in the baby seat\n\n  We them copycat killers, unleashin' venom\n  Commit them lyrical murders and then we re-commit 'em\n  Lyrics be high quality, bitches be givin' me brain\n  My dick be deep in they heads like psychology\n\n  Independently pennin' the best words that were ever said\n  The mixture of Leatherhead and Everclear\n  You can't hide, we everywhere\n  Now, picture a grizzly standin' next to a teddy bear\n\n  We we, we lyrical murderers\n  Welcome to the Slaughterhouse\n  (What you talkin 'bout?)\n  Where we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\n\n  We, we, we lyrical murderers\n  Man, we own these streets and the freaks they love us\n  We ain't worried 'bout you fuckers\n  (Slaughterhouse)\n\n  Yeah, hello hip-hop, I am here\n  You dyin'? Yeah, and I'm aware\n  A beast so at your wake I'll cry lion's tears\n  And that's no disrespect to the pioneers\n  If we ain't who you tryin' to hear\n  Somethin' either wrong with your eyes and ears\n\n  I came in this game screamin' Jers'\n  Ain't an MC in our lane to try and merge\n  Try and run with our wave\n  But I'm cool with bein' Eddie Levert seein' my son on stage\n\n  Gun gon' blaze, act up in this joint\n  And I'm a be Nate Robinson and back up the point\n  Your run's over, run with us or get run over\n  I'm here to save this shit and I brung soldiers\n\n  This is lyrical murder\n  Me and every track have a physical merger\n  When I stab it in the chest I'm a bit of a curver\n  So it bleeds to death, like the middle of a unfinished burger\n\n  Or sometimes I wrap my hand around his throat\n  'Cause he think his kick is slick or his little snare is dope\n  Shoot the bass in the face but sometimes I carry a rope\n  To hang the piano keys when they hittin' every note\n\n  I'm what no beat's able to withstand\n  If you suffer from writer's block and your label got big plans\n  Listen to this fam, slide a little dough out that budget\n  And hire the instrumental hitman\n\n  We we, we lyrical murderers\n  Welcome to the Slaughterhouse\n  (What you talkin 'bout?)\n  Where we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\n\n  We, we, we lyrical murderers\n  Man, we own these streets and the freaks they love us\n  We ain't worried 'bout you fuckers\n  (Slaughterhouse)\n"},{"id":11995612,"name":"Lyrical Murderers feat. K‐Young","trackName":"Lyrical Murderers feat. K‐Young","artistName":"Slaughterhouse","albumName":"Slaughterhouse","duration":244.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"This is the life, we gone\nI ain't with the leanin' and rockin'\nThat ain't even seen as a option\n\nYou're nothin' without focus\nWoo, Long Beach\n(Lay your seats back)\nNew Jersey\n(Turn your speakers up)\nBrooklyn\n\nWe we, we lyrical murderers\n(Detroit)\nWelcome to the Slaughterhouse\n(What you talkin 'bout?)\nWhere we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\n\nWe, we, we lyrical murderers\nMan, we own these streets and the freaks they love us\nWe ain't worried 'bout you fuckers\n(Slaughterhouse)\n\nLyrical murderer, blame Rakim\nI'm a sniper shootin' my way into your lame top 10\nPistol at your head if I ain't next to Eminem\nThen I bust in your face like I'm fuckin' Lil' Kim\n\nNiggards, better pray to the lyrical Lord\nThat I fall off like the umbilical cord before I fill up the morgue\nThis is how a killer record\nWith the double edged triple syllable sword, I'm iller than all\n\nDineri, see I'm a literary genius\nBury niggaz with words, a cemetery linguist\nMost rappers are comedy gold\nThey like they boyfriend's sodomy hole, they full of shit\n\nNow you could walk through the shadow of death next to that shady street\nWhere the verbal cocaine business and 80's meet\nWhere them niggaz is backwards\nI'm ridin' with my daughter in the front with the A.K. in the baby seat\n\nWe them copycat killers, unleashin' venom\nCommit them lyrical murders and then we re-commit 'em\nLyrics be high quality, bitches be givin' me brain\nMy dick be deep in they heads like psychology\n\nIndependently pennin' the best words that were ever said\nThe mixture of Leatherhead and Everclear\nYou can't hide, we everywhere\nNow, picture a grizzly standin' next to a teddy bear\n\nWe we, we lyrical murderers\nWelcome to the Slaughterhouse\n(What you talkin 'bout?)\nWhere we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\n\nWe, we, we lyrical murderers\nMan, we own these streets and the freaks they love us\nWe ain't worried 'bout you fuckers\n(Slaughterhouse)\n\nYeah, hello hip-hop, I am here\nYou dyin'? Yeah, and I'm aware\nA beast so at your wake I'll cry lion's tears\nAnd that's no disrespect to the pioneers\nIf we ain't who you tryin' to hear\nSomethin' either wrong with your eyes and ears\n\nI came in this game screamin' Jers'\nAin't an MC in our lane to try and merge\nTry and run with our wave\nBut I'm cool with bein' Eddie Levert seein' my son on stage\n\nGun gon' blaze, act up in this joint\nAnd I'm a be Nate Robinson and back up the point\nYour run's over, run with us or get run over\nI'm here to save this shit and I brung soldiers\n\nThis is lyrical murder\nMe and every track have a physical merger\nWhen I stab it in the chest I'm a bit of a curver\nSo it bleeds to death, like the middle of a unfinished burger\n\nOr sometimes I wrap my hand around his throat\n'Cause he think his kick is slick or his little snare is dope\nShoot the bass in the face but sometimes I carry a rope\nTo hang the piano keys when they hittin' every note\n\nI'm what no beat's able to withstand\nIf you suffer from writer's block and your label got big plans\nListen to this fam, slide a little dough out that budget\nAnd hire the instrumental hitman\n\nWe we, we lyrical murderers\nWelcome to the Slaughterhouse\n(What you talkin 'bout?)\nWhere we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\n\nWe, we, we lyrical murderers\nMan, we own these streets and the freaks they love us\nWe ain't worried 'bout you fuckers\n(Slaughterhouse)","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Lyrical Murderers feat. K‐Young\n  artist: Slaughterhouse\n  album: Slaughterhouse\n  duration_ms: 244000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  This is the life, we gone\n  I ain't with the leanin' and rockin'\n  That ain't even seen as a option\n\n  You're nothin' without focus\n  Woo, Long Beach\n  (Lay your seats back)\n  New Jersey\n  (Turn your speakers up)\n  Brooklyn\n\n  We we, we lyrical murderers\n  (Detroit)\n  Welcome to the Slaughterhouse\n  (What you talkin 'bout?)\n  Where we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\n\n  We, we, we lyrical murderers\n  Man, we own these streets and the freaks they love us\n  We ain't worried 'bout you fuckers\n  (Slaughterhouse)\n\n  Lyrical murderer, blame Rakim\n  I'm a sniper shootin' my way into your lame top 10\n  Pistol at your head if I ain't next to Eminem\n  Then I bust in your face like I'm fuckin' Lil' Kim\n\n  Niggards, better pray to the lyrical Lord\n  That I fall off like the umbilical cord before I fill up the morgue\n  This is how a killer record\n  With the double edged triple syllable sword, I'm iller than all\n\n  Dineri, see I'm a literary genius\n  Bury niggaz with words, a cemetery linguist\n  Most rappers are comedy gold\n  They like they boyfriend's sodomy hole, they full of shit\n\n  Now you could walk through the shadow of death next to that shady street\n  Where the verbal cocaine business and 80's meet\n  Where them niggaz is backwards\n  I'm ridin' with my daughter in the front with the A.K. in the baby seat\n\n  We them copycat killers, unleashin' venom\n  Commit them lyrical murders and then we re-commit 'em\n  Lyrics be high quality, bitches be givin' me brain\n  My dick be deep in they heads like psychology\n\n  Independently pennin' the best words that were ever said\n  The mixture of Leatherhead and Everclear\n  You can't hide, we everywhere\n  Now, picture a grizzly standin' next to a teddy bear\n\n  We we, we lyrical murderers\n  Welcome to the Slaughterhouse\n  (What you talkin 'bout?)\n  Where we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\n\n  We, we, we lyrical murderers\n  Man, we own these streets and the freaks they love us\n  We ain't worried 'bout you fuckers\n  (Slaughterhouse)\n\n  Yeah, hello hip-hop, I am here\n  You dyin'? Yeah, and I'm aware\n  A beast so at your wake I'll cry lion's tears\n  And that's no disrespect to the pioneers\n  If we ain't who you tryin' to hear\n  Somethin' either wrong with your eyes and ears\n\n  I came in this game screamin' Jers'\n  Ain't an MC in our lane to try and merge\n  Try and run with our wave\n  But I'm cool with bein' Eddie Levert seein' my son on stage\n\n  Gun gon' blaze, act up in this joint\n  And I'm a be Nate Robinson and back up the point\n  Your run's over, run with us or get run over\n  I'm here to save this shit and I brung soldiers\n\n  This is lyrical murder\n  Me and every track have a physical merger\n  When I stab it in the chest I'm a bit of a curver\n  So it bleeds to death, like the middle of a unfinished burger\n\n  Or sometimes I wrap my hand around his throat\n  'Cause he think his kick is slick or his little snare is dope\n  Shoot the bass in the face but sometimes I carry a rope\n  To hang the piano keys when they hittin' every note\n\n  I'm what no beat's able to withstand\n  If you suffer from writer's block and your label got big plans\n  Listen to this fam, slide a little dough out that budget\n  And hire the instrumental hitman\n\n  We we, we lyrical murderers\n  Welcome to the Slaughterhouse\n  (What you talkin 'bout?)\n  Where we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\n\n  We, we, we lyrical murderers\n  Man, we own these streets and the freaks they love us\n  We ain't worried 'bout you fuckers\n  (Slaughterhouse)\n"},{"id":34385456,"name":"Lyrical Murderers","trackName":"Lyrical Murderers","artistName":"Slaughterhouse, Kay Young","albumName":"Slaughterhouse (Bonus Track Version)","duration":246.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"\"This is the life, we gone!\" -\n\"I ain't with the leanin and rockin\nThat ain't even seen as a option...\" -\n\nYou're nothin without (Focus)\nWoo. Long Beach (lay your seats back)\nNew Jersey (turn your speakers up)\nBrook-lyn! Detroit!\n\nWe-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers\nWelcome to the Slaughterhouse\n(What you talkin 'bout?)\nWhere we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\nWe-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers\nMan, we own these streets\nAnd the freaks they love us\nWe ain't worried 'bout you fuckers (Slaughterhouse)\n\nLyrical murderer, blame Rakim\nI'm a sniper shootin my way into your lame top 10\nPistol at your head if I ain't next to Eminem\nThen I bust in your face like I'm fuckin Lil' Kim\nNiggaz better pray to the lyrical lord\nthat I fall off like the umbilical cord before I fill up the morgue\nThis is how a killer record\nwith the double-edged triple syllable sword, I'm iller than all\nDineri, see I'm a literary genius\nBury niggaz with words, a cemetery linguist\nMost rappers are comedy gold\nThey like they boyfriend's sodomy hole - they full of SHIT!\n\nNow you could walk through the shadow of death next to that shady street\nWhere the verbal cocaine business and 80's meet\nWhere them niggaz is backwards\nI'm ridin with my daughter in the front with the A.K. in the baby seat\nWe them copycat killers, unleashin venom\nCommit them lyrical murders and then we re-commit 'em\nLyrics be high quality\nBitches be givin me brain, my dick be deep in they heads like psychology\nIndependently pennin the best words that were ever said\nThe mixture of Leatherhead and Everclear\nYou can't hide, we everywhere\nNow, picture a grizzly standin next to a teddy bear\n\nYeah\nHello hip-hop, I am here, you dyin yeah and I'm aware\nA beast so at your wake I'll cry lion's tears\nAnd that's no disrespect to the pioneers\nIf we ain't who you tryin to hear\nSomethin either wrong with your eyes and ears\nI came in this game screamin Jers'\nAin't an MC in our lane to try and merge\nTry and run with our wave\nBut I'm cool with bein Eddie Levert seein my son on stage\nGun gon' blaze, act up in this joint\nAnd I'ma be Nate Robinson and back up the point\nYour run's over, run with us or get run over\nI'm here to save this shit, and I brung soldiers\n\nThis is lyrical murder\nMe and every track have a physical merger\nWhen I stab it in the chest I'ma bit of a curver\nSo it bleeds to death, like the middle of a unfinished burger\nOr sometimes I wrap my hand around his throat\nCause he think his kick is slick or his little snare is dope\nShoot the bass in the face but sometimes I carry a rope\nto hang the piano keys when they hittin every note\nI'm what no beat's able to withstand\nIf you suffer from writer's block and your label got big plans\nListen to this fam\nSlide a little dough out that budget, and hire the instrumental hitman","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.55] \"This is the life, we gone!\" -\n[00:02.15] \"I ain't with the leanin and rockin\n[00:03.25] That ain't even seen as a option...\" -\n[00:04.98] You're nothin without (Focus)\n[00:13.62] Woo. Long Beach (lay your seats back)\n[00:18.82] New Jersey (turn your speakers up)\n[00:21.63] Brook-lyn! Detroit!\n[00:23.88] We-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers\n[00:27.73] Welcome to the Slaughterhouse\n[00:29.80] (What you talkin 'bout?)\n[00:30.82] Where we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\n[00:33.23] We-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers\n[00:37.68] Man, we own these streets\n[00:40.17] And the freaks they love us\n[00:41.95] We ain't worried 'bout you fuckers (Slaughterhouse)\n[00:44.19] Lyrical murderer, blame Rakim\n[00:47.13] I'm a sniper shootin my way into your lame top 10\n[00:49.97] Pistol at your head if I ain't next to Eminem\n[00:52.66] Then I bust in your face like I'm fuckin Lil' Kim\n[00:55.25] Niggaz better pray to the lyrical lord\n[00:57.43] that I fall off like the umbilical cord before I fill up the morgue\n[00:59.65] This is how a killer record\n[01:03.24] with the double-edged triple syllable sword, I'm iller than all\n[01:05.90] Dineri, see I'm a literary genius\n[01:08.36] Bury niggaz with words, a cemetery linguist\n[01:11.07] Most rappers are comedy gold\n[01:13.02] They like they boyfriend's sodomy hole - they full of SHIT!\n[01:15.88] Now you could walk through the shadow of death next to that shady street\n[01:19.05] Where the verbal cocaine business and 80's meet\n[01:21.71] Where them niggaz is backwards\n[01:23.23] I'm ridin with my daughter in the front with the A.K. in the baby seat\n[01:26.71] We them copycat killers, unleashin venom\n[01:29.47] Commit them lyrical murders and then we re-commit 'em\n[01:32.19] Lyrics be high quality\n[01:33.49] Bitches be givin me brain, my dick be deep in they heads like psychology\n[01:37.29] Independently pennin the best words that were ever said\n[01:39.92] The mixture of Leatherhead and Everclear\n[01:42.93] You can't hide, we everywhere\n[01:44.68] Now, picture a grizzly standin next to a teddy bear\n[01:49.35] Yeah\n[02:10.24] Hello hip-hop, I am here, you dyin yeah and I'm aware\n[02:11.00] A beast so at your wake I'll cry lion's tears\n[02:13.69] And that's no disrespect to the pioneers\n[02:15.13] If we ain't who you tryin to hear\n[02:17.68] Somethin either wrong with your eyes and ears\n[02:19.65] I came in this game screamin Jers'\n[02:21.52] Ain't an MC in our lane to try and merge\n[02:24.31] Try and run with our wave\n[02:27.62] But I'm cool with bein Eddie Levert seein my son on stage\n[02:29.50] Gun gon' blaze, act up in this joint\n[02:32.07] And I'ma be Nate Robinson and back up the point\n[02:34.85] Your run's over, run with us or get run over\n[02:37.95] I'm here to save this shit, and I brung soldiers\n[02:40.61] This is lyrical murder\n[02:42.15] Me and every track have a physical merger\n[02:44.60] When I stab it in the chest I'ma bit of a curver\n[02:46.98] So it bleeds to death, like the middle of a unfinished burger\n[02:50.86] Or sometimes I wrap my hand around his throat\n[02:52.98] Cause he think his kick is slick or his little snare is dope\n[02:55.64] Shoot the bass in the face but sometimes I carry a rope\n[02:58.18] to hang the piano keys when they hittin every note\n[03:01.42] I'm what no beat's able to withstand\n[03:03.55] If you suffer from writer's block and your label got big plans\n[03:06.36] Listen to this fam\n[03:08.01] Slide a little dough out that budget, and hire the instrumental hitman\n[03:10.25] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Lyrical Murderers\n  artist: Slaughterhouse, Kay Young\n  album: Slaughterhouse (Bonus Track Version)\n  duration_ms: 246000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: '\"This is the life, we gone!\" -'\n  start_ms: 1550\n  end_ms: 2150\n- text: '\"I ain''t with the leanin and rockin'\n  start_ms: 2150\n  end_ms: 3250\n- text: That ain't even seen as a option...\" -\n  start_ms: 3250\n  end_ms: 4980\n- text: You're nothin without (Focus)\n  start_ms: 4980\n  end_ms: 13620\n- text: Woo. Long Beach (lay your seats back)\n  start_ms: 13620\n  end_ms: 18820\n- text: New Jersey (turn your speakers up)\n  start_ms: 18820\n  end_ms: 21630\n- text: Brook-lyn! Detroit!\n  start_ms: 21630\n  end_ms: 23880\n- text: We-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers\n  start_ms: 23880\n  end_ms: 27730\n- text: Welcome to the Slaughterhouse\n  start_ms: 27730\n  end_ms: 29800\n- text: (What you talkin 'bout?)\n  start_ms: 29800\n  end_ms: 30820\n- text: Where we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\n  start_ms: 30820\n  end_ms: 33230\n- text: We-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers\n  start_ms: 33230\n  end_ms: 37680\n- text: Man, we own these streets\n  start_ms: 37680\n  end_ms: 40170\n- text: And the freaks they love us\n  start_ms: 40170\n  end_ms: 41950\n- text: We ain't worried 'bout you fuckers (Slaughterhouse)\n  start_ms: 41950\n  end_ms: 44190\n- text: Lyrical murderer, blame Rakim\n  start_ms: 44190\n  end_ms: 47130\n- text: I'm a sniper shootin my way into your lame top 10\n  start_ms: 47130\n  end_ms: 49970\n- text: Pistol at your head if I ain't next to Eminem\n  start_ms: 49970\n  end_ms: 52660\n- text: Then I bust in your face like I'm fuckin Lil' Kim\n  start_ms: 52660\n  end_ms: 55250\n- text: Niggaz better pray to the lyrical lord\n  start_ms: 55250\n  end_ms: 57430\n- text: that I fall off like the umbilical cord before I fill up the morgue\n  start_ms: 57430\n  end_ms: 59650\n- text: This is how a killer record\n  start_ms: 59650\n  end_ms: 63240\n- text: with the double-edged triple syllable sword, I'm iller than all\n  start_ms: 63240\n  end_ms: 65900\n- text: Dineri, see I'm a literary genius\n  start_ms: 65900\n  end_ms: 68360\n- text: Bury niggaz with words, a cemetery linguist\n  start_ms: 68360\n  end_ms: 71070\n- text: Most rappers are comedy gold\n  start_ms: 71070\n  end_ms: 73020\n- text: They like they boyfriend's sodomy hole - they full of SHIT!\n  start_ms: 73020\n  end_ms: 75880\n- text: Now you could walk through the shadow of death next to that shady street\n  start_ms: 75880\n  end_ms: 79050\n- text: Where the verbal cocaine business and 80's meet\n  start_ms: 79050\n  end_ms: 81710\n- text: Where them niggaz is backwards\n  start_ms: 81710\n  end_ms: 83230\n- text: I'm ridin with my daughter in the front with the A.K. in the baby seat\n  start_ms: 83230\n  end_ms: 86710\n- text: We them copycat killers, unleashin venom\n  start_ms: 86710\n  end_ms: 89470\n- text: Commit them lyrical murders and then we re-commit 'em\n  start_ms: 89470\n  end_ms: 92190\n- text: Lyrics be high quality\n  start_ms: 92190\n  end_ms: 93490\n- text: Bitches be givin me brain, my dick be deep in they heads like psychology\n  start_ms: 93490\n  end_ms: 97290\n- text: Independently pennin the best words that were ever said\n  start_ms: 97290\n  end_ms: 99920\n- text: The mixture of Leatherhead and Everclear\n  start_ms: 99920\n  end_ms: 102930\n- text: You can't hide, we everywhere\n  start_ms: 102930\n  end_ms: 104680\n- text: Now, picture a grizzly standin next to a teddy bear\n  start_ms: 104680\n  end_ms: 109350\n- text: Yeah\n  start_ms: 109350\n  end_ms: 130240\n- text: Hello hip-hop, I am here, you dyin yeah and I'm aware\n  start_ms: 130240\n  end_ms: 131000\n- text: A beast so at your wake I'll cry lion's tears\n  start_ms: 131000\n  end_ms: 133690\n- text: And that's no disrespect to the pioneers\n  start_ms: 133690\n  end_ms: 135130\n- text: If we ain't who you tryin to hear\n  start_ms: 135130\n  end_ms: 137680\n- text: Somethin either wrong with your eyes and ears\n  start_ms: 137680\n  end_ms: 139650\n- text: I came in this game screamin Jers'\n  start_ms: 139650\n  end_ms: 141520\n- text: Ain't an MC in our lane to try and merge\n  start_ms: 141520\n  end_ms: 144310\n- text: Try and run with our wave\n  start_ms: 144310\n  end_ms: 147620\n- text: But I'm cool with bein Eddie Levert seein my son on stage\n  start_ms: 147620\n  end_ms: 149500\n- text: Gun gon' blaze, act up in this joint\n  start_ms: 149500\n  end_ms: 152070\n- text: And I'ma be Nate Robinson and back up the point\n  start_ms: 152070\n  end_ms: 154850\n- text: Your run's over, run with us or get run over\n  start_ms: 154850\n  end_ms: 157950\n- text: I'm here to save this shit, and I brung soldiers\n  start_ms: 157950\n  end_ms: 160610\n- text: This is lyrical murder\n  start_ms: 160610\n  end_ms: 162150\n- text: Me and every track have a physical merger\n  start_ms: 162150\n  end_ms: 164600\n- text: When I stab it in the chest I'ma bit of a curver\n  start_ms: 164600\n  end_ms: 166980\n- text: So it bleeds to death, like the middle of a unfinished burger\n  start_ms: 166980\n  end_ms: 170860\n- text: Or sometimes I wrap my hand around his throat\n  start_ms: 170860\n  end_ms: 172980\n- text: Cause he think his kick is slick or his little snare is dope\n  start_ms: 172980\n  end_ms: 175640\n- text: Shoot the bass in the face but sometimes I carry a rope\n  start_ms: 175640\n  end_ms: 178180\n- text: to hang the piano keys when they hittin every note\n  start_ms: 178180\n  end_ms: 181420\n- text: I'm what no beat's able to withstand\n  start_ms: 181420\n  end_ms: 183550\n- text: If you suffer from writer's block and your label got big plans\n  start_ms: 183550\n  end_ms: 186360\n- text: Listen to this fam\n  start_ms: 186360\n  end_ms: 188010\n- text: Slide a little dough out that budget, and hire the instrumental hitman\n  start_ms: 188010\n  end_ms: 190250\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 190250\nplain: |-\n  \"This is the life, we gone!\" -\n  \"I ain't with the leanin and rockin\n  That ain't even seen as a option...\" -\n\n  You're nothin without (Focus)\n  Woo. Long Beach (lay your seats back)\n  New Jersey (turn your speakers up)\n  Brook-lyn! Detroit!\n\n  We-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers\n  Welcome to the Slaughterhouse\n  (What you talkin 'bout?)\n  Where we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\n  We-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers\n  Man, we own these streets\n  And the freaks they love us\n  We ain't worried 'bout you fuckers (Slaughterhouse)\n\n  Lyrical murderer, blame Rakim\n  I'm a sniper shootin my way into your lame top 10\n  Pistol at your head if I ain't next to Eminem\n  Then I bust in your face like I'm fuckin Lil' Kim\n  Niggaz better pray to the lyrical lord\n  that I fall off like the umbilical cord before I fill up the morgue\n  This is how a killer record\n  with the double-edged triple syllable sword, I'm iller than all\n  Dineri, see I'm a literary genius\n  Bury niggaz with words, a cemetery linguist\n  Most rappers are comedy gold\n  They like they boyfriend's sodomy hole - they full of SHIT!\n\n  Now you could walk through the shadow of death next to that shady street\n  Where the verbal cocaine business and 80's meet\n  Where them niggaz is backwards\n  I'm ridin with my daughter in the front with the A.K. in the baby seat\n  We them copycat killers, unleashin venom\n  Commit them lyrical murders and then we re-commit 'em\n  Lyrics be high quality\n  Bitches be givin me brain, my dick be deep in they heads like psychology\n  Independently pennin the best words that were ever said\n  The mixture of Leatherhead and Everclear\n  You can't hide, we everywhere\n  Now, picture a grizzly standin next to a teddy bear\n\n  Yeah\n  Hello hip-hop, I am here, you dyin yeah and I'm aware\n  A beast so at your wake I'll cry lion's tears\n  And that's no disrespect to the pioneers\n  If we ain't who you tryin to hear\n  Somethin either wrong with your eyes and ears\n  I came in this game screamin Jers'\n  Ain't an MC in our lane to try and merge\n  Try and run with our wave\n  But I'm cool with bein Eddie Levert seein my son on stage\n  Gun gon' blaze, act up in this joint\n  And I'ma be Nate Robinson and back up the point\n  Your run's over, run with us or get run over\n  I'm here to save this shit, and I brung soldiers\n\n  This is lyrical murder\n  Me and every track have a physical merger\n  When I stab it in the chest I'ma bit of a curver\n  So it bleeds to death, like the middle of a unfinished burger\n  Or sometimes I wrap my hand around his throat\n  Cause he think his kick is slick or his little snare is dope\n  Shoot the bass in the face but sometimes I carry a rope\n  to hang the piano keys when they hittin every note\n  I'm what no beat's able to withstand\n  If you suffer from writer's block and your label got big plans\n  Listen to this fam\n  Slide a little dough out that budget, and hire the instrumental hitman\n"},{"id":30000159,"name":"Lyrical Murderers","trackName":"Lyrical Murderers","artistName":"Slaughterhouse Feat. Kay Young","albumName":"Slaughterhouse (Bonus Track Version)","duration":246.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"\"This is the life, we gone!\" -\n\"I ain't with the leanin and rockin\nThat ain't even seen as a option...\" -\n\nYou're nothin without (Focus)\nWoo. Long Beach (lay your seats back)\nNew Jersey (turn your speakers up)\nBrook-lyn! Detroit!\n\nWe-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers\nWelcome to the Slaughterhouse\n(What you talkin 'bout?)\nWhere we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\nWe-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers\nMan, we own these streets\nAnd the freaks they love us\nWe ain't worried 'bout you fuckers (Slaughterhouse)\n\nLyrical murderer, blame Rakim\nI'm a sniper shootin my way into your lame top 10\nPistol at your head if I ain't next to Eminem\nThen I bust in your face like I'm fuckin Lil' Kim\nNiggaz better pray to the lyrical lord\nthat I fall off like the umbilical cord before I fill up the morgue\nThis is how a killer record\nwith the double-edged triple syllable sword, I'm iller than all\nDineri, see I'm a literary genius\nBury niggaz with words, a cemetery linguist\nMost rappers are comedy gold\nThey like they boyfriend's sodomy hole - they full of SHIT!\n\nNow you could walk through the shadow of death next to that shady street\nWhere the verbal cocaine business and 80's meet\nWhere them niggaz is backwards\nI'm ridin with my daughter in the front with the A.K. in the baby seat\nWe them copycat killers, unleashin venom\nCommit them lyrical murders and then we re-commit 'em\nLyrics be high quality\nBitches be givin me brain, my dick be deep in they heads like psychology\nIndependently pennin the best words that were ever said\nThe mixture of Leatherhead and Everclear\nYou can't hide, we everywhere\nNow, picture a grizzly standin next to a teddy bear\n\nYeah\nHello hip-hop, I am here, you dyin yeah and I'm aware\nA beast so at your wake I'll cry lion's tears\nAnd that's no disrespect to the pioneers\nIf we ain't who you tryin to hear\nSomethin either wrong with your eyes and ears\nI came in this game screamin Jers'\nAin't an MC in our lane to try and merge\nTry and run with our wave\nBut I'm cool with bein Eddie Levert seein my son on stage\nGun gon' blaze, act up in this joint\nAnd I'ma be Nate Robinson and back up the point\nYour run's over, run with us or get run over\nI'm here to save this shit, and I brung soldiers\n\nThis is lyrical murder\nMe and every track have a physical merger\nWhen I stab it in the chest I'ma bit of a curver\nSo it bleeds to death, like the middle of a unfinished burger\nOr sometimes I wrap my hand around his throat\nCause he think his kick is slick or his little snare is dope\nShoot the bass in the face but sometimes I carry a rope\nto hang the piano keys when they hittin every note\nI'm what no beat's able to withstand\nIf you suffer from writer's block and your label got big plans\nListen to this fam\nSlide a little dough out that budget, and hire the instrumental hitman","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.55] \"This is the life, we gone!\" -\n[00:02.15] \"I ain't with the leanin and rockin\n[00:03.25] That ain't even seen as a option...\" -\n[00:04.98] You're nothin without (Focus)\n[00:13.62] Woo. Long Beach (lay your seats back)\n[00:18.82] New Jersey (turn your speakers up)\n[00:21.63] Brook-lyn! Detroit!\n[00:23.88] We-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers\n[00:27.73] Welcome to the Slaughterhouse\n[00:29.80] (What you talkin 'bout?)\n[00:30.82] Where we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\n[00:33.23] We-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers\n[00:37.68] Man, we own these streets\n[00:40.17] And the freaks they love us\n[00:41.95] We ain't worried 'bout you fuckers (Slaughterhouse)\n[00:44.19] Lyrical murderer, blame Rakim\n[00:47.13] I'm a sniper shootin my way into your lame top 10\n[00:49.97] Pistol at your head if I ain't next to Eminem\n[00:52.66] Then I bust in your face like I'm fuckin Lil' Kim\n[00:55.25] Niggaz better pray to the lyrical lord\n[00:57.43] that I fall off like the umbilical cord before I fill up the morgue\n[00:59.65] This is how a killer record\n[01:03.24] with the double-edged triple syllable sword, I'm iller than all\n[01:05.90] Dineri, see I'm a literary genius\n[01:08.36] Bury niggaz with words, a cemetery linguist\n[01:11.07] Most rappers are comedy gold\n[01:13.02] They like they boyfriend's sodomy hole - they full of SHIT!\n[01:15.88] Now you could walk through the shadow of death next to that shady street\n[01:19.05] Where the verbal cocaine business and 80's meet\n[01:21.71] Where them niggaz is backwards\n[01:23.23] I'm ridin with my daughter in the front with the A.K. in the baby seat\n[01:26.71] We them copycat killers, unleashin venom\n[01:29.47] Commit them lyrical murders and then we re-commit 'em\n[01:32.19] Lyrics be high quality\n[01:33.49] Bitches be givin me brain, my dick be deep in they heads like psychology\n[01:37.29] Independently pennin the best words that were ever said\n[01:39.92] The mixture of Leatherhead and Everclear\n[01:42.93] You can't hide, we everywhere\n[01:44.68] Now, picture a grizzly standin next to a teddy bear\n[01:49.35] Yeah\n[02:10.24] Hello hip-hop, I am here, you dyin yeah and I'm aware\n[02:11.00] A beast so at your wake I'll cry lion's tears\n[02:13.69] And that's no disrespect to the pioneers\n[02:15.13] If we ain't who you tryin to hear\n[02:17.68] Somethin either wrong with your eyes and ears\n[02:19.65] I came in this game screamin Jers'\n[02:21.52] Ain't an MC in our lane to try and merge\n[02:24.31] Try and run with our wave\n[02:27.62] But I'm cool with bein Eddie Levert seein my son on stage\n[02:29.50] Gun gon' blaze, act up in this joint\n[02:32.07] And I'ma be Nate Robinson and back up the point\n[02:34.85] Your run's over, run with us or get run over\n[02:37.95] I'm here to save this shit, and I brung soldiers\n[02:40.61] This is lyrical murder\n[02:42.15] Me and every track have a physical merger\n[02:44.60] When I stab it in the chest I'ma bit of a curver\n[02:46.98] So it bleeds to death, like the middle of a unfinished burger\n[02:50.86] Or sometimes I wrap my hand around his throat\n[02:52.98] Cause he think his kick is slick or his little snare is dope\n[02:55.64] Shoot the bass in the face but sometimes I carry a rope\n[02:58.18] to hang the piano keys when they hittin every note\n[03:01.42] I'm what no beat's able to withstand\n[03:03.55] If you suffer from writer's block and your label got big plans\n[03:06.36] Listen to this fam\n[03:08.01] Slide a little dough out that budget, and hire the instrumental hitman\n[03:10.25] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Lyrical Murderers\n  artist: Slaughterhouse Feat. Kay Young\n  album: Slaughterhouse (Bonus Track Version)\n  duration_ms: 246000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: '\"This is the life, we gone!\" -'\n  start_ms: 1550\n  end_ms: 2150\n- text: '\"I ain''t with the leanin and rockin'\n  start_ms: 2150\n  end_ms: 3250\n- text: That ain't even seen as a option...\" -\n  start_ms: 3250\n  end_ms: 4980\n- text: You're nothin without (Focus)\n  start_ms: 4980\n  end_ms: 13620\n- text: Woo. Long Beach (lay your seats back)\n  start_ms: 13620\n  end_ms: 18820\n- text: New Jersey (turn your speakers up)\n  start_ms: 18820\n  end_ms: 21630\n- text: Brook-lyn! Detroit!\n  start_ms: 21630\n  end_ms: 23880\n- text: We-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers\n  start_ms: 23880\n  end_ms: 27730\n- text: Welcome to the Slaughterhouse\n  start_ms: 27730\n  end_ms: 29800\n- text: (What you talkin 'bout?)\n  start_ms: 29800\n  end_ms: 30820\n- text: Where we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\n  start_ms: 30820\n  end_ms: 33230\n- text: We-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers\n  start_ms: 33230\n  end_ms: 37680\n- text: Man, we own these streets\n  start_ms: 37680\n  end_ms: 40170\n- text: And the freaks they love us\n  start_ms: 40170\n  end_ms: 41950\n- text: We ain't worried 'bout you fuckers (Slaughterhouse)\n  start_ms: 41950\n  end_ms: 44190\n- text: Lyrical murderer, blame Rakim\n  start_ms: 44190\n  end_ms: 47130\n- text: I'm a sniper shootin my way into your lame top 10\n  start_ms: 47130\n  end_ms: 49970\n- text: Pistol at your head if I ain't next to Eminem\n  start_ms: 49970\n  end_ms: 52660\n- text: Then I bust in your face like I'm fuckin Lil' Kim\n  start_ms: 52660\n  end_ms: 55250\n- text: Niggaz better pray to the lyrical lord\n  start_ms: 55250\n  end_ms: 57430\n- text: that I fall off like the umbilical cord before I fill up the morgue\n  start_ms: 57430\n  end_ms: 59650\n- text: This is how a killer record\n  start_ms: 59650\n  end_ms: 63240\n- text: with the double-edged triple syllable sword, I'm iller than all\n  start_ms: 63240\n  end_ms: 65900\n- text: Dineri, see I'm a literary genius\n  start_ms: 65900\n  end_ms: 68360\n- text: Bury niggaz with words, a cemetery linguist\n  start_ms: 68360\n  end_ms: 71070\n- text: Most rappers are comedy gold\n  start_ms: 71070\n  end_ms: 73020\n- text: They like they boyfriend's sodomy hole - they full of SHIT!\n  start_ms: 73020\n  end_ms: 75880\n- text: Now you could walk through the shadow of death next to that shady street\n  start_ms: 75880\n  end_ms: 79050\n- text: Where the verbal cocaine business and 80's meet\n  start_ms: 79050\n  end_ms: 81710\n- text: Where them niggaz is backwards\n  start_ms: 81710\n  end_ms: 83230\n- text: I'm ridin with my daughter in the front with the A.K. in the baby seat\n  start_ms: 83230\n  end_ms: 86710\n- text: We them copycat killers, unleashin venom\n  start_ms: 86710\n  end_ms: 89470\n- text: Commit them lyrical murders and then we re-commit 'em\n  start_ms: 89470\n  end_ms: 92190\n- text: Lyrics be high quality\n  start_ms: 92190\n  end_ms: 93490\n- text: Bitches be givin me brain, my dick be deep in they heads like psychology\n  start_ms: 93490\n  end_ms: 97290\n- text: Independently pennin the best words that were ever said\n  start_ms: 97290\n  end_ms: 99920\n- text: The mixture of Leatherhead and Everclear\n  start_ms: 99920\n  end_ms: 102930\n- text: You can't hide, we everywhere\n  start_ms: 102930\n  end_ms: 104680\n- text: Now, picture a grizzly standin next to a teddy bear\n  start_ms: 104680\n  end_ms: 109350\n- text: Yeah\n  start_ms: 109350\n  end_ms: 130240\n- text: Hello hip-hop, I am here, you dyin yeah and I'm aware\n  start_ms: 130240\n  end_ms: 131000\n- text: A beast so at your wake I'll cry lion's tears\n  start_ms: 131000\n  end_ms: 133690\n- text: And that's no disrespect to the pioneers\n  start_ms: 133690\n  end_ms: 135130\n- text: If we ain't who you tryin to hear\n  start_ms: 135130\n  end_ms: 137680\n- text: Somethin either wrong with your eyes and ears\n  start_ms: 137680\n  end_ms: 139650\n- text: I came in this game screamin Jers'\n  start_ms: 139650\n  end_ms: 141520\n- text: Ain't an MC in our lane to try and merge\n  start_ms: 141520\n  end_ms: 144310\n- text: Try and run with our wave\n  start_ms: 144310\n  end_ms: 147620\n- text: But I'm cool with bein Eddie Levert seein my son on stage\n  start_ms: 147620\n  end_ms: 149500\n- text: Gun gon' blaze, act up in this joint\n  start_ms: 149500\n  end_ms: 152070\n- text: And I'ma be Nate Robinson and back up the point\n  start_ms: 152070\n  end_ms: 154850\n- text: Your run's over, run with us or get run over\n  start_ms: 154850\n  end_ms: 157950\n- text: I'm here to save this shit, and I brung soldiers\n  start_ms: 157950\n  end_ms: 160610\n- text: This is lyrical murder\n  start_ms: 160610\n  end_ms: 162150\n- text: Me and every track have a physical merger\n  start_ms: 162150\n  end_ms: 164600\n- text: When I stab it in the chest I'ma bit of a curver\n  start_ms: 164600\n  end_ms: 166980\n- text: So it bleeds to death, like the middle of a unfinished burger\n  start_ms: 166980\n  end_ms: 170860\n- text: Or sometimes I wrap my hand around his throat\n  start_ms: 170860\n  end_ms: 172980\n- text: Cause he think his kick is slick or his little snare is dope\n  start_ms: 172980\n  end_ms: 175640\n- text: Shoot the bass in the face but sometimes I carry a rope\n  start_ms: 175640\n  end_ms: 178180\n- text: to hang the piano keys when they hittin every note\n  start_ms: 178180\n  end_ms: 181420\n- text: I'm what no beat's able to withstand\n  start_ms: 181420\n  end_ms: 183550\n- text: If you suffer from writer's block and your label got big plans\n  start_ms: 183550\n  end_ms: 186360\n- text: Listen to this fam\n  start_ms: 186360\n  end_ms: 188010\n- text: Slide a little dough out that budget, and hire the instrumental hitman\n  start_ms: 188010\n  end_ms: 190250\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 190250\nplain: |-\n  \"This is the life, we gone!\" -\n  \"I ain't with the leanin and rockin\n  That ain't even seen as a option...\" -\n\n  You're nothin without (Focus)\n  Woo. Long Beach (lay your seats back)\n  New Jersey (turn your speakers up)\n  Brook-lyn! Detroit!\n\n  We-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers\n  Welcome to the Slaughterhouse\n  (What you talkin 'bout?)\n  Where we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\n  We-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers\n  Man, we own these streets\n  And the freaks they love us\n  We ain't worried 'bout you fuckers (Slaughterhouse)\n\n  Lyrical murderer, blame Rakim\n  I'm a sniper shootin my way into your lame top 10\n  Pistol at your head if I ain't next to Eminem\n  Then I bust in your face like I'm fuckin Lil' Kim\n  Niggaz better pray to the lyrical lord\n  that I fall off like the umbilical cord before I fill up the morgue\n  This is how a killer record\n  with the double-edged triple syllable sword, I'm iller than all\n  Dineri, see I'm a literary genius\n  Bury niggaz with words, a cemetery linguist\n  Most rappers are comedy gold\n  They like they boyfriend's sodomy hole - they full of SHIT!\n\n  Now you could walk through the shadow of death next to that shady street\n  Where the verbal cocaine business and 80's meet\n  Where them niggaz is backwards\n  I'm ridin with my daughter in the front with the A.K. in the baby seat\n  We them copycat killers, unleashin venom\n  Commit them lyrical murders and then we re-commit 'em\n  Lyrics be high quality\n  Bitches be givin me brain, my dick be deep in they heads like psychology\n  Independently pennin the best words that were ever said\n  The mixture of Leatherhead and Everclear\n  You can't hide, we everywhere\n  Now, picture a grizzly standin next to a teddy bear\n\n  Yeah\n  Hello hip-hop, I am here, you dyin yeah and I'm aware\n  A beast so at your wake I'll cry lion's tears\n  And that's no disrespect to the pioneers\n  If we ain't who you tryin to hear\n  Somethin either wrong with your eyes and ears\n  I came in this game screamin Jers'\n  Ain't an MC in our lane to try and merge\n  Try and run with our wave\n  But I'm cool with bein Eddie Levert seein my son on stage\n  Gun gon' blaze, act up in this joint\n  And I'ma be Nate Robinson and back up the point\n  Your run's over, run with us or get run over\n  I'm here to save this shit, and I brung soldiers\n\n  This is lyrical murder\n  Me and every track have a physical merger\n  When I stab it in the chest I'ma bit of a curver\n  So it bleeds to death, like the middle of a unfinished burger\n  Or sometimes I wrap my hand around his throat\n  Cause he think his kick is slick or his little snare is dope\n  Shoot the bass in the face but sometimes I carry a rope\n  to hang the piano keys when they hittin every note\n  I'm what no beat's able to withstand\n  If you suffer from writer's block and your label got big plans\n  Listen to this fam\n  Slide a little dough out that budget, and hire the instrumental hitman\n"},{"id":21021863,"name":"Lyrical Murderers","trackName":"Lyrical Murderers","artistName":"Slaughter House","albumName":"Slaughterhouse","duration":244.166531,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"\"This is the life, we gone!\" -\n\"I ain't with the leanin and rockin\nThat ain't even seen as a option...\" -\n\nYou're nothin without (Focus)\nWoo. Long Beach (lay your seats back)\nNew Jersey (turn your speakers up)\nBrook-lyn! Detroit!\n\nWe-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers\nWelcome to the Slaughterhouse\n(What you talkin 'bout?)\nWhere we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\nWe-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers\nMan, we own these streets\nAnd the freaks they love us\nWe ain't worried 'bout you fuckers (Slaughterhouse)\n\nLyrical murderer, blame Rakim\nI'm a sniper shootin my way into your lame top 10\nPistol at your head if I ain't next to Eminem\nThen I bust in your face like I'm fuckin Lil' Kim\nNiggaz better pray to the lyrical lord\nthat I fall off like the umbilical cord before I fill up the morgue\nThis is how a killer record\nwith the double-edged triple syllable sword, I'm iller than all\nDineri, see I'm a literary genius\nBury niggaz with words, a cemetery linguist\nMost rappers are comedy gold\nThey like they boyfriend's sodomy hole - they full of SHIT!\n\nNow you could walk through the shadow of death next to that shady street\nWhere the verbal cocaine business and 80's meet\nWhere them niggaz is backwards\nI'm ridin with my daughter in the front with the A.K. in the baby seat\nWe them copycat killers, unleashin venom\nCommit them lyrical murders and then we re-commit 'em\nLyrics be high quality\nBitches be givin me brain, my dick be deep in they heads like psychology\nIndependently pennin the best words that were ever said\nThe mixture of Leatherhead and Everclear\nYou can't hide, we everywhere\nNow, picture a grizzly standin next to a teddy bear\n\nYeah\nHello hip-hop, I am here, you dyin yeah and I'm aware\nA beast so at your wake I'll cry lion's tears\nAnd that's no disrespect to the pioneers\nIf we ain't who you tryin to hear\nSomethin either wrong with your eyes and ears\nI came in this game screamin Jers'\nAin't an MC in our lane to try and merge\nTry and run with our wave\nBut I'm cool with bein Eddie Levert seein my son on stage\nGun gon' blaze, act up in this joint\nAnd I'ma be Nate Robinson and back up the point\nYour run's over, run with us or get run over\nI'm here to save this shit, and I brung soldiers\n\nThis is lyrical murder\nMe and every track have a physical merger\nWhen I stab it in the chest I'ma bit of a curver\nSo it bleeds to death, like the middle of a unfinished burger\nOr sometimes I wrap my hand around his throat\nCause he think his kick is slick or his little snare is dope\nShoot the bass in the face but sometimes I carry a rope\nto hang the piano keys when they hittin every note\nI'm what no beat's able to withstand\nIf you suffer from writer's block and your label got big plans\nListen to this fam\nSlide a little dough out that budget, and hire the instrumental hitman","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.38] \"This is the life, we gone!\" -\n[00:01.50] \"I ain't with the leanin and rockin\n[00:03.30] That ain't even seen as a option...\" -\n[00:08.86] You're nothin without (Focus)\n[00:14.33] Woo. Long Beach (lay your seats back)\n[00:18.46] New Jersey (turn your speakers up)\n[00:21.82] Brook-lyn! Detroit!\n[00:22.45] We-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers\n[00:27.85] Welcome to the Slaughterhouse\n[00:29.48] (What you talkin 'bout?)\n[00:30.07] Where we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\n[00:32.96] We-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers\n[00:34.37] Man, we own these streets\n[00:40.56] And the freaks they love us\n[00:42.02] We ain't worried 'bout you fuckers (Slaughterhouse)\n[00:45.21] Lyrical murderer, blame Rakim\n[00:47.15] I'm a sniper shootin my way into your lame top 10\n[00:50.14] Pistol at your head if I ain't next to Eminem\n[00:52.58] Then I bust in your face like I'm fuckin Lil' Kim\n[00:55.15] Niggaz better pray to the lyrical lord\n[00:57.59] that I fall off like the umbilical cord before I fill up the morgue\n[01:01.22] This is how a killer record\n[01:02.68] with the double-edged triple syllable sword, I'm iller than all\n[01:06.54] Dineri, see I'm a literary genius\n[01:08.49] Bury niggaz with words, a cemetery linguist\n[01:11.45] Most rappers are comedy gold\n[01:13.23] They like they boyfriend's sodomy hole - they full of SHIT!\n[01:15.77] Now you could walk through the shadow of death next to that shady street\n[01:19.27] Where the verbal cocaine business and 80's meet\n[01:21.85] Where them niggaz is backwards\n[01:23.46] I'm ridin with my daughter in the front with the A.K. in the baby seat\n[01:27.16] We them copycat killers, unleashin venom\n[01:29.55] Commit them lyrical murders and then we re-commit 'em\n[01:32.16] Lyrics be high quality\n[01:33.42] Bitches be givin me brain, my dick be deep in they heads like psychology\n[01:37.69] Independently pennin the best words that were ever said\n[01:40.43] The mixture of Leatherhead and Everclear\n[01:42.75] You can't hide, we everywhere\n[01:44.34] Now, picture a grizzly standin next to a teddy bear\n[02:05.88] Yeah\n[02:07.03] Hello hip-hop, I am here, you dyin yeah and I'm aware\n[02:11.12] A beast so at your wake I'll cry lion's tears\n[02:13.64] And that's no disrespect to the pioneers\n[02:15.90] If we ain't who you tryin to hear\n[02:17.38] Somethin either wrong with your eyes and ears\n[02:19.37] I came in this game screamin Jers'\n[02:21.62] Ain't an MC in our lane to try and merge\n[02:24.53] Try and run with our wave\n[02:26.22] But I'm cool with bein Eddie Levert seein my son on stage\n[02:29.51] Gun gon' blaze, act up in this joint\n[02:32.19] And I'ma be Nate Robinson and back up the point\n[02:34.82] Your run's over, run with us or get run over\n[02:37.73] I'm here to save this shit, and I brung soldiers\n[02:40.57] This is lyrical murder\n[02:42.35] Me and every track have a physical merger\n[02:44.52] When I stab it in the chest I'ma bit of a curver\n[02:47.12] So it bleeds to death, like the middle of a unfinished burger\n[02:51.18] Or sometimes I wrap my hand around his throat\n[02:53.19] Cause he think his kick is slick or his little snare is dope\n[02:55.80] Shoot the bass in the face but sometimes I carry a rope\n[02:58.23] to hang the piano keys when they hittin every note\n[03:01.56] I'm what no beat's able to withstand\n[03:03.46] If you suffer from writer's block and your label got big plans\n[03:06.39] Listen to this fam\n[03:07.72] Slide a little dough out that budget, and hire the instrumental hitman\n[03:26.78] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Lyrical Murderers\n  artist: Slaughter House\n  album: Slaughterhouse\n  duration_ms: 244167\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: '\"This is the life, we gone!\" -'\n  start_ms: 380\n  end_ms: 1500\n- text: '\"I ain''t with the leanin and rockin'\n  start_ms: 1500\n  end_ms: 3300\n- text: That ain't even seen as a option...\" -\n  start_ms: 3300\n  end_ms: 8860\n- text: You're nothin without (Focus)\n  start_ms: 8860\n  end_ms: 14330\n- text: Woo. Long Beach (lay your seats back)\n  start_ms: 14330\n  end_ms: 18460\n- text: New Jersey (turn your speakers up)\n  start_ms: 18460\n  end_ms: 21820\n- text: Brook-lyn! Detroit!\n  start_ms: 21820\n  end_ms: 22450\n- text: We-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers\n  start_ms: 22450\n  end_ms: 27850\n- text: Welcome to the Slaughterhouse\n  start_ms: 27850\n  end_ms: 29480\n- text: (What you talkin 'bout?)\n  start_ms: 29480\n  end_ms: 30070\n- text: Where we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\n  start_ms: 30070\n  end_ms: 32960\n- text: We-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers\n  start_ms: 32960\n  end_ms: 34370\n- text: Man, we own these streets\n  start_ms: 34370\n  end_ms: 40560\n- text: And the freaks they love us\n  start_ms: 40560\n  end_ms: 42020\n- text: We ain't worried 'bout you fuckers (Slaughterhouse)\n  start_ms: 42020\n  end_ms: 45210\n- text: Lyrical murderer, blame Rakim\n  start_ms: 45210\n  end_ms: 47150\n- text: I'm a sniper shootin my way into your lame top 10\n  start_ms: 47150\n  end_ms: 50140\n- text: Pistol at your head if I ain't next to Eminem\n  start_ms: 50140\n  end_ms: 52580\n- text: Then I bust in your face like I'm fuckin Lil' Kim\n  start_ms: 52580\n  end_ms: 55150\n- text: Niggaz better pray to the lyrical lord\n  start_ms: 55150\n  end_ms: 57590\n- text: that I fall off like the umbilical cord before I fill up the morgue\n  start_ms: 57590\n  end_ms: 61220\n- text: This is how a killer record\n  start_ms: 61220\n  end_ms: 62680\n- text: with the double-edged triple syllable sword, I'm iller than all\n  start_ms: 62680\n  end_ms: 66540\n- text: Dineri, see I'm a literary genius\n  start_ms: 66540\n  end_ms: 68490\n- text: Bury niggaz with words, a cemetery linguist\n  start_ms: 68490\n  end_ms: 71450\n- text: Most rappers are comedy gold\n  start_ms: 71450\n  end_ms: 73230\n- text: They like they boyfriend's sodomy hole - they full of SHIT!\n  start_ms: 73230\n  end_ms: 75770\n- text: Now you could walk through the shadow of death next to that shady street\n  start_ms: 75770\n  end_ms: 79270\n- text: Where the verbal cocaine business and 80's meet\n  start_ms: 79270\n  end_ms: 81850\n- text: Where them niggaz is backwards\n  start_ms: 81850\n  end_ms: 83460\n- text: I'm ridin with my daughter in the front with the A.K. in the baby seat\n  start_ms: 83460\n  end_ms: 87160\n- text: We them copycat killers, unleashin venom\n  start_ms: 87160\n  end_ms: 89550\n- text: Commit them lyrical murders and then we re-commit 'em\n  start_ms: 89550\n  end_ms: 92160\n- text: Lyrics be high quality\n  start_ms: 92160\n  end_ms: 93420\n- text: Bitches be givin me brain, my dick be deep in they heads like psychology\n  start_ms: 93420\n  end_ms: 97690\n- text: Independently pennin the best words that were ever said\n  start_ms: 97690\n  end_ms: 100430\n- text: The mixture of Leatherhead and Everclear\n  start_ms: 100430\n  end_ms: 102750\n- text: You can't hide, we everywhere\n  start_ms: 102750\n  end_ms: 104340\n- text: Now, picture a grizzly standin next to a teddy bear\n  start_ms: 104340\n  end_ms: 125880\n- text: Yeah\n  start_ms: 125880\n  end_ms: 127030\n- text: Hello hip-hop, I am here, you dyin yeah and I'm aware\n  start_ms: 127030\n  end_ms: 131120\n- text: A beast so at your wake I'll cry lion's tears\n  start_ms: 131120\n  end_ms: 133640\n- text: And that's no disrespect to the pioneers\n  start_ms: 133640\n  end_ms: 135900\n- text: If we ain't who you tryin to hear\n  start_ms: 135900\n  end_ms: 137380\n- text: Somethin either wrong with your eyes and ears\n  start_ms: 137380\n  end_ms: 139370\n- text: I came in this game screamin Jers'\n  start_ms: 139370\n  end_ms: 141620\n- text: Ain't an MC in our lane to try and merge\n  start_ms: 141620\n  end_ms: 144530\n- text: Try and run with our wave\n  start_ms: 144530\n  end_ms: 146220\n- text: But I'm cool with bein Eddie Levert seein my son on stage\n  start_ms: 146220\n  end_ms: 149510\n- text: Gun gon' blaze, act up in this joint\n  start_ms: 149510\n  end_ms: 152190\n- text: And I'ma be Nate Robinson and back up the point\n  start_ms: 152190\n  end_ms: 154820\n- text: Your run's over, run with us or get run over\n  start_ms: 154820\n  end_ms: 157730\n- text: I'm here to save this shit, and I brung soldiers\n  start_ms: 157730\n  end_ms: 160570\n- text: This is lyrical murder\n  start_ms: 160570\n  end_ms: 162350\n- text: Me and every track have a physical merger\n  start_ms: 162350\n  end_ms: 164520\n- text: When I stab it in the chest I'ma bit of a curver\n  start_ms: 164520\n  end_ms: 167120\n- text: So it bleeds to death, like the middle of a unfinished burger\n  start_ms: 167120\n  end_ms: 171180\n- text: Or sometimes I wrap my hand around his throat\n  start_ms: 171180\n  end_ms: 173190\n- text: Cause he think his kick is slick or his little snare is dope\n  start_ms: 173190\n  end_ms: 175800\n- text: Shoot the bass in the face but sometimes I carry a rope\n  start_ms: 175800\n  end_ms: 178230\n- text: to hang the piano keys when they hittin every note\n  start_ms: 178230\n  end_ms: 181560\n- text: I'm what no beat's able to withstand\n  start_ms: 181560\n  end_ms: 183460\n- text: If you suffer from writer's block and your label got big plans\n  start_ms: 183460\n  end_ms: 186390\n- text: Listen to this fam\n  start_ms: 186390\n  end_ms: 187720\n- text: Slide a little dough out that budget, and hire the instrumental hitman\n  start_ms: 187720\n  end_ms: 206780\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 206780\nplain: |-\n  \"This is the life, we gone!\" -\n  \"I ain't with the leanin and rockin\n  That ain't even seen as a option...\" -\n\n  You're nothin without (Focus)\n  Woo. Long Beach (lay your seats back)\n  New Jersey (turn your speakers up)\n  Brook-lyn! Detroit!\n\n  We-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers\n  Welcome to the Slaughterhouse\n  (What you talkin 'bout?)\n  Where we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\n  We-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers\n  Man, we own these streets\n  And the freaks they love us\n  We ain't worried 'bout you fuckers (Slaughterhouse)\n\n  Lyrical murderer, blame Rakim\n  I'm a sniper shootin my way into your lame top 10\n  Pistol at your head if I ain't next to Eminem\n  Then I bust in your face like I'm fuckin Lil' Kim\n  Niggaz better pray to the lyrical lord\n  that I fall off like the umbilical cord before I fill up the morgue\n  This is how a killer record\n  with the double-edged triple syllable sword, I'm iller than all\n  Dineri, see I'm a literary genius\n  Bury niggaz with words, a cemetery linguist\n  Most rappers are comedy gold\n  They like they boyfriend's sodomy hole - they full of SHIT!\n\n  Now you could walk through the shadow of death next to that shady street\n  Where the verbal cocaine business and 80's meet\n  Where them niggaz is backwards\n  I'm ridin with my daughter in the front with the A.K. in the baby seat\n  We them copycat killers, unleashin venom\n  Commit them lyrical murders and then we re-commit 'em\n  Lyrics be high quality\n  Bitches be givin me brain, my dick be deep in they heads like psychology\n  Independently pennin the best words that were ever said\n  The mixture of Leatherhead and Everclear\n  You can't hide, we everywhere\n  Now, picture a grizzly standin next to a teddy bear\n\n  Yeah\n  Hello hip-hop, I am here, you dyin yeah and I'm aware\n  A beast so at your wake I'll cry lion's tears\n  And that's no disrespect to the pioneers\n  If we ain't who you tryin to hear\n  Somethin either wrong with your eyes and ears\n  I came in this game screamin Jers'\n  Ain't an MC in our lane to try and merge\n  Try and run with our wave\n  But I'm cool with bein Eddie Levert seein my son on stage\n  Gun gon' blaze, act up in this joint\n  And I'ma be Nate Robinson and back up the point\n  Your run's over, run with us or get run over\n  I'm here to save this shit, and I brung soldiers\n\n  This is lyrical murder\n  Me and every track have a physical merger\n  When I stab it in the chest I'ma bit of a curver\n  So it bleeds to death, like the middle of a unfinished burger\n  Or sometimes I wrap my hand around his throat\n  Cause he think his kick is slick or his little snare is dope\n  Shoot the bass in the face but sometimes I carry a rope\n  to hang the piano keys when they hittin every note\n  I'm what no beat's able to withstand\n  If you suffer from writer's block and your label got big plans\n  Listen to this fam\n  Slide a little dough out that budget, and hire the instrumental hitman\n"},{"id":22864172,"name":"Lyrical Murderers Ft. Kay Young (Produced By TheRealFocus)","trackName":"Lyrical Murderers Ft. Kay Young (Produced By TheRealFocus)","artistName":"Slaughterhouse","albumName":"Slaughterhouse","duration":244.166531,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"This is the life, we gone\nI ain't with the leanin' and rockin'\nThat ain't even seen as a option\n\nYou're nothin' without focus\nWoo, Long Beach\n(Lay your seats back)\nNew Jersey\n(Turn your speakers up)\nBrooklyn\n\nWe we, we lyrical murderers\n(Detroit)\nWelcome to the Slaughterhouse\n(What you talkin 'bout?)\nWhere we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\n\nWe, we, we lyrical murderers\nMan, we own these streets and the freaks they love us\nWe ain't worried 'bout you fuckers\n(Slaughterhouse)\n\nLyrical murderer, blame Rakim\nI'm a sniper shootin' my way into your lame top 10\nPistol at your head if I ain't next to Eminem\nThen I bust in your face like I'm fuckin' Lil' Kim\n\nNiggards, better pray to the lyrical Lord\nThat I fall off like the umbilical cord before I fill up the morgue\nThis is how a killer record\nWith the double edged triple syllable sword, I'm iller than all\n\nDineri, see I'm a literary genius\nBury niggaz with words, a cemetery linguist\nMost rappers are comedy gold\nThey like they boyfriend's sodomy hole, they full of shit\n\nNow you could walk through the shadow of death next to that shady street\nWhere the verbal cocaine business and 80's meet\nWhere them niggaz is backwards\nI'm ridin' with my daughter in the front with the A.K. in the baby seat\n\nWe them copycat killers, unleashin' venom\nCommit them lyrical murders and then we re-commit 'em\nLyrics be high quality, bitches be givin' me brain\nMy dick be deep in they heads like psychology\n\nIndependently pennin' the best words that were ever said\nThe mixture of Leatherhead and Everclear\nYou can't hide, we everywhere\nNow, picture a grizzly standin' next to a teddy bear\n\nWe we, we lyrical murderers\nWelcome to the Slaughterhouse\n(What you talkin 'bout?)\nWhere we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\n\nWe, we, we lyrical murderers\nMan, we own these streets and the freaks they love us\nWe ain't worried 'bout you fuckers\n(Slaughterhouse)\n\nYeah, hello hip-hop, I am here\nYou dyin'? Yeah, and I'm aware\nA beast so at your wake I'll cry lion's tears\nAnd that's no disrespect to the pioneers\nIf we ain't who you tryin' to hear\nSomethin' either wrong with your eyes and ears\n\nI came in this game screamin' Jers'\nAin't an MC in our lane to try and merge\nTry and run with our wave\nBut I'm cool with bein' Eddie Levert seein' my son on stage\n\nGun gon' blaze, act up in this joint\nAnd I'm a be Nate Robinson and back up the point\nYour run's over, run with us or get run over\nI'm here to save this shit and I brung soldiers\n\nThis is lyrical murder\nMe and every track have a physical merger\nWhen I stab it in the chest I'm a bit of a curver\nSo it bleeds to death, like the middle of a unfinished burger\n\nOr sometimes I wrap my hand around his throat\n'Cause he think his kick is slick or his little snare is dope\nShoot the bass in the face but sometimes I carry a rope\nTo hang the piano keys when they hittin' every note\n\nI'm what no beat's able to withstand\nIf you suffer from writer's block and your label got big plans\nListen to this fam, slide a little dough out that budget\nAnd hire the instrumental hitman\n\nWe we, we lyrical murderers\nWelcome to the Slaughterhouse\n(What you talkin 'bout?)\nWhere we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\n\nWe, we, we lyrical murderers\nMan, we own these streets and the freaks they love us\nWe ain't worried 'bout you fuckers\n(Slaughterhouse)","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Lyrical Murderers Ft. Kay Young (Produced By TheRealFocus)\n  artist: Slaughterhouse\n  album: Slaughterhouse\n  duration_ms: 244167\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  This is the life, we gone\n  I ain't with the leanin' and rockin'\n  That ain't even seen as a option\n\n  You're nothin' without focus\n  Woo, Long Beach\n  (Lay your seats back)\n  New Jersey\n  (Turn your speakers up)\n  Brooklyn\n\n  We we, we lyrical murderers\n  (Detroit)\n  Welcome to the Slaughterhouse\n  (What you talkin 'bout?)\n  Where we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\n\n  We, we, we lyrical murderers\n  Man, we own these streets and the freaks they love us\n  We ain't worried 'bout you fuckers\n  (Slaughterhouse)\n\n  Lyrical murderer, blame Rakim\n  I'm a sniper shootin' my way into your lame top 10\n  Pistol at your head if I ain't next to Eminem\n  Then I bust in your face like I'm fuckin' Lil' Kim\n\n  Niggards, better pray to the lyrical Lord\n  That I fall off like the umbilical cord before I fill up the morgue\n  This is how a killer record\n  With the double edged triple syllable sword, I'm iller than all\n\n  Dineri, see I'm a literary genius\n  Bury niggaz with words, a cemetery linguist\n  Most rappers are comedy gold\n  They like they boyfriend's sodomy hole, they full of shit\n\n  Now you could walk through the shadow of death next to that shady street\n  Where the verbal cocaine business and 80's meet\n  Where them niggaz is backwards\n  I'm ridin' with my daughter in the front with the A.K. in the baby seat\n\n  We them copycat killers, unleashin' venom\n  Commit them lyrical murders and then we re-commit 'em\n  Lyrics be high quality, bitches be givin' me brain\n  My dick be deep in they heads like psychology\n\n  Independently pennin' the best words that were ever said\n  The mixture of Leatherhead and Everclear\n  You can't hide, we everywhere\n  Now, picture a grizzly standin' next to a teddy bear\n\n  We we, we lyrical murderers\n  Welcome to the Slaughterhouse\n  (What you talkin 'bout?)\n  Where we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\n\n  We, we, we lyrical murderers\n  Man, we own these streets and the freaks they love us\n  We ain't worried 'bout you fuckers\n  (Slaughterhouse)\n\n  Yeah, hello hip-hop, I am here\n  You dyin'? Yeah, and I'm aware\n  A beast so at your wake I'll cry lion's tears\n  And that's no disrespect to the pioneers\n  If we ain't who you tryin' to hear\n  Somethin' either wrong with your eyes and ears\n\n  I came in this game screamin' Jers'\n  Ain't an MC in our lane to try and merge\n  Try and run with our wave\n  But I'm cool with bein' Eddie Levert seein' my son on stage\n\n  Gun gon' blaze, act up in this joint\n  And I'm a be Nate Robinson and back up the point\n  Your run's over, run with us or get run over\n  I'm here to save this shit and I brung soldiers\n\n  This is lyrical murder\n  Me and every track have a physical merger\n  When I stab it in the chest I'm a bit of a curver\n  So it bleeds to death, like the middle of a unfinished burger\n\n  Or sometimes I wrap my hand around his throat\n  'Cause he think his kick is slick or his little snare is dope\n  Shoot the bass in the face but sometimes I carry a rope\n  To hang the piano keys when they hittin' every note\n\n  I'm what no beat's able to withstand\n  If you suffer from writer's block and your label got big plans\n  Listen to this fam, slide a little dough out that budget\n  And hire the instrumental hitman\n\n  We we, we lyrical murderers\n  Welcome to the Slaughterhouse\n  (What you talkin 'bout?)\n  Where we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw\n\n  We, we, we lyrical murderers\n  Man, we own these streets and the freaks they love us\n  We ain't worried 'bout you fuckers\n  (Slaughterhouse)\n"}]