[{"id":33229789,"name":"Too Much","trackName":"Too Much","artistName":"The Game","albumName":"The Documentary / Doctor's Advocate","duration":251.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\nWhere niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\nSo we rock it like Tracy McGrady\nSend it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\nI'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\nSo that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\nAnd it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\nFirst LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\nNigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\nI'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\nI'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\nJust number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\nNate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\nAll you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\nI'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\nOn fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\nI'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\nLike you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\nI'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\nDrugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\nToo much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\nToo many bitches in the world not to fuck\nToo much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\nAnd too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\nYou look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\nGrabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\nDon't know how much attention you pay\nYou better be ready to die, in this game\nI thought I told y'all\nI'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\nAnd I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\nGame on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\nI mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\nNigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\nNigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\nAnd I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\nI come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\nPut my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\nI'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\nI'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\nRoll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\nInspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\nI brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\nI'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\nDrugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\nToo much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\nToo many bitches in the world not to fuck\nToo much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\nAnd too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\nYou look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\nGrabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\nDon't know how much attention you pay\nYou better be ready to die, in this game\nDrive fast, both hands on the dash\nClose both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\nIt's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\nRoll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\nNiggas, drop the top on whatever you in\nBitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\nInhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\nNigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\nFour doors, leather and wood\nRide like I got a horse stable under my hood\nAnd I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\nSo if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\nWho had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\nMr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\nLong as my family straight, read this at my wake\nI gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\nTwenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\nI can not, will not ever be replaced\nCause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\nDrugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\nToo much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\nToo many bitches in the world not to fuck\nToo much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\nAnd too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\nYou look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\nGrabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\nDon't know how much attention you pay\nYou better be ready to die, in this game\nHe wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\nYou can't find your girl, she right here\nI'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n'Sides there's way too many hoes in here","syncedLyrics":"[00:10.07] I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n[00:12.82] Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\n[00:16.26] So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n[00:18.27] Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n[00:20.23] I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\n[00:22.82] So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\n[00:26.11] And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n[00:28.74] First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n[00:31.39] Nigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\n[00:33.95] I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n[00:36.48] I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n[00:38.86] Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n[00:41.30] Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n[00:44.05] All you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\n[00:46.49] I'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\n[00:48.83] On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\n[00:51.43] I'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n[00:54.08] Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n[00:56.51] I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n[00:59.43] Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[01:01.93] Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n[01:04.34] Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n[01:06.77] Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n[01:09.40] And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n[01:11.95] You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n[01:14.73] Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n[01:17.24] Don't know how much attention you pay\n[01:19.75] You better be ready to die, in this game\n[01:22.23] I thought I told y'all\n[01:22.70] I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n[01:25.00] And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n[01:27.54] Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n[01:30.35] I mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\n[01:32.64] Nigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n[01:35.16] Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n[01:37.60] And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n[01:39.88] I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n[01:42.55] Put my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\n[01:45.13] I'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\n[01:47.67] I'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n[01:50.12] Roll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\n[01:52.73] Inspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\n[01:55.25] I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\n[01:57.80] I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n[02:00.58] Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[02:03.57] Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n[02:05.55] Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n[02:07.89] Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n[02:10.55] And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n[02:13.39] You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n[02:15.80] Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n[02:18.39] Don't know how much attention you pay\n[02:20.83] You better be ready to die, in this game\n[02:23.51] Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n[02:25.82] Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n[02:28.51] It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n[02:30.90] Roll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\n[02:33.55] Niggas, drop the top on whatever you in\n[02:35.93] Bitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\n[02:38.52] Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\n[02:41.27] Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n[02:43.79] Four doors, leather and wood\n[02:46.15] Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n[02:48.68] And I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\n[02:51.27] So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\n[02:53.87] Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\n[02:56.43] Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n[02:59.06] Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n[03:01.43] I gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\n[03:04.02] Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\n[03:06.54] I can not, will not ever be replaced\n[03:09.11] Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n[03:12.02] Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[03:14.68] Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n[03:16.81] Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n[03:19.33] Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n[03:22.02] And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n[03:24.76] You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n[03:27.21] Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n[03:29.83] Don't know how much attention you pay\n[03:32.28] You better be ready to die, in this game\n[03:35.12] He wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\n[03:37.45] You can't find your girl, she right here\n[03:39.99] I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n[03:42.48] 'Sides there's way too many hoes in here","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Too Much\n  artist: The Game\n  album: The Documentary / Doctor's Advocate\n  duration_ms: 251000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n  start_ms: 10070\n  end_ms: 12820\n- text: Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\n  start_ms: 12820\n  end_ms: 16260\n- text: So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n  start_ms: 16260\n  end_ms: 18270\n- text: Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n  start_ms: 18270\n  end_ms: 20230\n- text: I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\n  start_ms: 20230\n  end_ms: 22820\n- text: So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\n  start_ms: 22820\n  end_ms: 26110\n- text: And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n  start_ms: 26110\n  end_ms: 28740\n- text: First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n  start_ms: 28740\n  end_ms: 31390\n- text: Nigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\n  start_ms: 31390\n  end_ms: 33950\n- text: I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n  start_ms: 33950\n  end_ms: 36480\n- text: I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n  start_ms: 36480\n  end_ms: 38860\n- text: Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n  start_ms: 38860\n  end_ms: 41300\n- text: Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n  start_ms: 41300\n  end_ms: 44050\n- text: All you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\n  start_ms: 44050\n  end_ms: 46490\n- text: I'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\n  start_ms: 46490\n  end_ms: 48830\n- text: On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\n  start_ms: 48830\n  end_ms: 51430\n- text: I'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n  start_ms: 51430\n  end_ms: 54080\n- text: Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n  start_ms: 54080\n  end_ms: 56510\n- text: I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 56510\n  end_ms: 59430\n- text: Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  start_ms: 59430\n  end_ms: 61930\n- text: Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  start_ms: 61930\n  end_ms: 64340\n- text: Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  start_ms: 64340\n  end_ms: 66770\n- text: Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  start_ms: 66770\n  end_ms: 69400\n- text: And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  start_ms: 69400\n  end_ms: 71950\n- text: You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  start_ms: 71950\n  end_ms: 74730\n- text: Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  start_ms: 74730\n  end_ms: 77240\n- text: Don't know how much attention you pay\n  start_ms: 77240\n  end_ms: 79750\n- text: You better be ready to die, in this game\n  start_ms: 79750\n  end_ms: 82230\n- text: I thought I told y'all\n  start_ms: 82230\n  end_ms: 82700\n- text: I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n  start_ms: 82700\n  end_ms: 85000\n- text: And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n  start_ms: 85000\n  end_ms: 87540\n- text: Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n  start_ms: 87540\n  end_ms: 90350\n- text: I mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\n  start_ms: 90350\n  end_ms: 92640\n- text: Nigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n  start_ms: 92640\n  end_ms: 95160\n- text: Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n  start_ms: 95160\n  end_ms: 97600\n- text: And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n  start_ms: 97600\n  end_ms: 99880\n- text: I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n  start_ms: 99880\n  end_ms: 102550\n- text: Put my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\n  start_ms: 102550\n  end_ms: 105130\n- text: I'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\n  start_ms: 105130\n  end_ms: 107670\n- text: I'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n  start_ms: 107670\n  end_ms: 110120\n- text: Roll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\n  start_ms: 110120\n  end_ms: 112730\n- text: Inspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\n  start_ms: 112730\n  end_ms: 115250\n- text: I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\n  start_ms: 115250\n  end_ms: 117800\n- text: I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 117800\n  end_ms: 120580\n- text: Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  start_ms: 120580\n  end_ms: 123570\n- text: Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  start_ms: 123570\n  end_ms: 125550\n- text: Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  start_ms: 125550\n  end_ms: 127890\n- text: Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  start_ms: 127890\n  end_ms: 130550\n- text: And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  start_ms: 130550\n  end_ms: 133390\n- text: You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  start_ms: 133390\n  end_ms: 135800\n- text: Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  start_ms: 135800\n  end_ms: 138390\n- text: Don't know how much attention you pay\n  start_ms: 138390\n  end_ms: 140830\n- text: You better be ready to die, in this game\n  start_ms: 140830\n  end_ms: 143510\n- text: Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n  start_ms: 143510\n  end_ms: 145820\n- text: Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n  start_ms: 145820\n  end_ms: 148510\n- text: It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n  start_ms: 148510\n  end_ms: 150900\n- text: Roll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\n  start_ms: 150900\n  end_ms: 153550\n- text: Niggas, drop the top on whatever you in\n  start_ms: 153550\n  end_ms: 155930\n- text: Bitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\n  start_ms: 155930\n  end_ms: 158520\n- text: Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\n  start_ms: 158520\n  end_ms: 161270\n- text: Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n  start_ms: 161270\n  end_ms: 163790\n- text: Four doors, leather and wood\n  start_ms: 163790\n  end_ms: 166150\n- text: Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n  start_ms: 166150\n  end_ms: 168680\n- text: And I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\n  start_ms: 168680\n  end_ms: 171270\n- text: So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\n  start_ms: 171270\n  end_ms: 173870\n- text: Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\n  start_ms: 173870\n  end_ms: 176430\n- text: Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n  start_ms: 176430\n  end_ms: 179060\n- text: Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n  start_ms: 179060\n  end_ms: 181430\n- text: I gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\n  start_ms: 181430\n  end_ms: 184020\n- text: Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\n  start_ms: 184020\n  end_ms: 186540\n- text: I can not, will not ever be replaced\n  start_ms: 186540\n  end_ms: 189110\n- text: Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 189110\n  end_ms: 192020\n- text: Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  start_ms: 192020\n  end_ms: 194680\n- text: Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  start_ms: 194680\n  end_ms: 196810\n- text: Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  start_ms: 196810\n  end_ms: 199330\n- text: Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  start_ms: 199330\n  end_ms: 202020\n- text: And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  start_ms: 202020\n  end_ms: 204760\n- text: You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  start_ms: 204760\n  end_ms: 207210\n- text: Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  start_ms: 207210\n  end_ms: 209830\n- text: Don't know how much attention you pay\n  start_ms: 209830\n  end_ms: 212280\n- text: You better be ready to die, in this game\n  start_ms: 212280\n  end_ms: 215120\n- text: He wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\n  start_ms: 215120\n  end_ms: 217450\n- text: You can't find your girl, she right here\n  start_ms: 217450\n  end_ms: 219990\n- text: I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n  start_ms: 219990\n  end_ms: 222480\n- text: '''Sides there''s way too many hoes in here'\n  start_ms: 222480\nplain: |-\n  I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n  Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\n  So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n  Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n  I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\n  So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\n  And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n  First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n  Nigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\n  I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n  I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n  Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n  Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n  All you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\n  I'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\n  On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\n  I'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n  Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n  I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  Don't know how much attention you pay\n  You better be ready to die, in this game\n  I thought I told y'all\n  I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n  And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n  Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n  I mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\n  Nigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n  Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n  And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n  I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n  Put my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\n  I'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\n  I'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n  Roll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\n  Inspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\n  I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\n  I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  Don't know how much attention you pay\n  You better be ready to die, in this game\n  Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n  Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n  It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n  Roll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\n  Niggas, drop the top on whatever you in\n  Bitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\n  Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\n  Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n  Four doors, leather and wood\n  Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n  And I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\n  So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\n  Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\n  Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n  Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n  I gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\n  Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\n  I can not, will not ever be replaced\n  Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  Don't know how much attention you pay\n  You better be ready to die, in this game\n  He wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\n  You can't find your girl, she right here\n  I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n  'Sides there's way too many hoes in here\n"},{"id":2416790,"name":"Too Much","trackName":"Too Much","artistName":"The Game","albumName":"Doctor's Advocate","duration":251.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\nWhere niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\nSo we rock it like Tracy McGrady\nSend it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\nI'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\nSo that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\nAnd it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\nFirst LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\nNigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\nI'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\nI'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\nJust number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\nNate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\nAll you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\nI'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\nOn fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\nI'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\nLike you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\nI'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\nDrugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\nToo much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\nToo many bitches in the world not to fuck\nToo much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\nAnd too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\nYou look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\nGrabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\nDon't know how much attention you pay\nYou better be ready to die, in this game\nI thought I told y'all\nI'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\nAnd I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\nGame on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\nI mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\nNigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\nNigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\nAnd I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\nI come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\nPut my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\nI'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\nI'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\nRoll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\nInspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\nI brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\nI'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\nDrugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\nToo much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\nToo many bitches in the world not to fuck\nToo much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\nAnd too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\nYou look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\nGrabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\nDon't know how much attention you pay\nYou better be ready to die, in this game\nDrive fast, both hands on the dash\nClose both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\nIt's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\nRoll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\nNiggas, drop the top on whatever you in\nBitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\nInhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\nNigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\nFour doors, leather and wood\nRide like I got a horse stable under my hood\nAnd I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\nSo if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\nWho had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\nMr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\nLong as my family straight, read this at my wake\nI gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\nTwenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\nI can not, will not ever be replaced\nCause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\nDrugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\nToo much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\nToo many bitches in the world not to fuck\nToo much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\nAnd too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\nYou look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\nGrabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\nDon't know how much attention you pay\nYou better be ready to die, in this game\nHe wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\nYou can't find your girl, she right here\nI'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n'Sides there's way too many hoes in here","syncedLyrics":"[00:10.07] I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n[00:12.82] Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\n[00:16.26] So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n[00:18.27] Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n[00:20.23] I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\n[00:22.82] So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\n[00:26.11] And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n[00:28.74] First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n[00:31.39] Nigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\n[00:33.95] I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n[00:36.48] I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n[00:38.86] Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n[00:41.30] Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n[00:44.05] All you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\n[00:46.49] I'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\n[00:48.83] On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\n[00:51.43] I'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n[00:54.08] Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n[00:56.51] I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n[00:59.43] Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[01:01.93] Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n[01:04.34] Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n[01:06.77] Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n[01:09.40] And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n[01:11.95] You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n[01:14.73] Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n[01:17.24] Don't know how much attention you pay\n[01:19.75] You better be ready to die, in this game\n[01:22.23] I thought I told y'all\n[01:22.70] I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n[01:25.00] And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n[01:27.54] Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n[01:30.35] I mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\n[01:32.64] Nigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n[01:35.16] Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n[01:37.60] And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n[01:39.88] I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n[01:42.55] Put my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\n[01:45.13] I'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\n[01:47.67] I'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n[01:50.12] Roll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\n[01:52.73] Inspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\n[01:55.25] I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\n[01:57.80] I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n[02:00.58] Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[02:03.57] Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n[02:05.55] Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n[02:07.89] Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n[02:10.55] And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n[02:13.39] You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n[02:15.80] Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n[02:18.39] Don't know how much attention you pay\n[02:20.83] You better be ready to die, in this game\n[02:23.51] Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n[02:25.82] Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n[02:28.51] It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n[02:30.90] Roll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\n[02:33.55] Niggas, drop the top on whatever you in\n[02:35.93] Bitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\n[02:38.52] Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\n[02:41.27] Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n[02:43.79] Four doors, leather and wood\n[02:46.15] Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n[02:48.68] And I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\n[02:51.27] So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\n[02:53.87] Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\n[02:56.43] Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n[02:59.06] Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n[03:01.43] I gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\n[03:04.02] Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\n[03:06.54] I can not, will not ever be replaced\n[03:09.11] Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n[03:12.02] Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[03:14.68] Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n[03:16.81] Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n[03:19.33] Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n[03:22.02] And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n[03:24.76] You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n[03:27.21] Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n[03:29.83] Don't know how much attention you pay\n[03:32.28] You better be ready to die, in this game\n[03:35.12] He wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\n[03:37.45] You can't find your girl, she right here\n[03:39.99] I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n[03:42.48] 'Sides there's way too many hoes in here","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Too Much\n  artist: The Game\n  album: Doctor's Advocate\n  duration_ms: 251000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n  start_ms: 10070\n  end_ms: 12820\n- text: Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\n  start_ms: 12820\n  end_ms: 16260\n- text: So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n  start_ms: 16260\n  end_ms: 18270\n- text: Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n  start_ms: 18270\n  end_ms: 20230\n- text: I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\n  start_ms: 20230\n  end_ms: 22820\n- text: So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\n  start_ms: 22820\n  end_ms: 26110\n- text: And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n  start_ms: 26110\n  end_ms: 28740\n- text: First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n  start_ms: 28740\n  end_ms: 31390\n- text: Nigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\n  start_ms: 31390\n  end_ms: 33950\n- text: I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n  start_ms: 33950\n  end_ms: 36480\n- text: I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n  start_ms: 36480\n  end_ms: 38860\n- text: Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n  start_ms: 38860\n  end_ms: 41300\n- text: Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n  start_ms: 41300\n  end_ms: 44050\n- text: All you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\n  start_ms: 44050\n  end_ms: 46490\n- text: I'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\n  start_ms: 46490\n  end_ms: 48830\n- text: On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\n  start_ms: 48830\n  end_ms: 51430\n- text: I'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n  start_ms: 51430\n  end_ms: 54080\n- text: Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n  start_ms: 54080\n  end_ms: 56510\n- text: I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 56510\n  end_ms: 59430\n- text: Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  start_ms: 59430\n  end_ms: 61930\n- text: Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  start_ms: 61930\n  end_ms: 64340\n- text: Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  start_ms: 64340\n  end_ms: 66770\n- text: Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  start_ms: 66770\n  end_ms: 69400\n- text: And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  start_ms: 69400\n  end_ms: 71950\n- text: You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  start_ms: 71950\n  end_ms: 74730\n- text: Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  start_ms: 74730\n  end_ms: 77240\n- text: Don't know how much attention you pay\n  start_ms: 77240\n  end_ms: 79750\n- text: You better be ready to die, in this game\n  start_ms: 79750\n  end_ms: 82230\n- text: I thought I told y'all\n  start_ms: 82230\n  end_ms: 82700\n- text: I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n  start_ms: 82700\n  end_ms: 85000\n- text: And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n  start_ms: 85000\n  end_ms: 87540\n- text: Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n  start_ms: 87540\n  end_ms: 90350\n- text: I mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\n  start_ms: 90350\n  end_ms: 92640\n- text: Nigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n  start_ms: 92640\n  end_ms: 95160\n- text: Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n  start_ms: 95160\n  end_ms: 97600\n- text: And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n  start_ms: 97600\n  end_ms: 99880\n- text: I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n  start_ms: 99880\n  end_ms: 102550\n- text: Put my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\n  start_ms: 102550\n  end_ms: 105130\n- text: I'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\n  start_ms: 105130\n  end_ms: 107670\n- text: I'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n  start_ms: 107670\n  end_ms: 110120\n- text: Roll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\n  start_ms: 110120\n  end_ms: 112730\n- text: Inspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\n  start_ms: 112730\n  end_ms: 115250\n- text: I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\n  start_ms: 115250\n  end_ms: 117800\n- text: I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 117800\n  end_ms: 120580\n- text: Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  start_ms: 120580\n  end_ms: 123570\n- text: Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  start_ms: 123570\n  end_ms: 125550\n- text: Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  start_ms: 125550\n  end_ms: 127890\n- text: Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  start_ms: 127890\n  end_ms: 130550\n- text: And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  start_ms: 130550\n  end_ms: 133390\n- text: You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  start_ms: 133390\n  end_ms: 135800\n- text: Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  start_ms: 135800\n  end_ms: 138390\n- text: Don't know how much attention you pay\n  start_ms: 138390\n  end_ms: 140830\n- text: You better be ready to die, in this game\n  start_ms: 140830\n  end_ms: 143510\n- text: Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n  start_ms: 143510\n  end_ms: 145820\n- text: Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n  start_ms: 145820\n  end_ms: 148510\n- text: It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n  start_ms: 148510\n  end_ms: 150900\n- text: Roll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\n  start_ms: 150900\n  end_ms: 153550\n- text: Niggas, drop the top on whatever you in\n  start_ms: 153550\n  end_ms: 155930\n- text: Bitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\n  start_ms: 155930\n  end_ms: 158520\n- text: Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\n  start_ms: 158520\n  end_ms: 161270\n- text: Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n  start_ms: 161270\n  end_ms: 163790\n- text: Four doors, leather and wood\n  start_ms: 163790\n  end_ms: 166150\n- text: Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n  start_ms: 166150\n  end_ms: 168680\n- text: And I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\n  start_ms: 168680\n  end_ms: 171270\n- text: So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\n  start_ms: 171270\n  end_ms: 173870\n- text: Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\n  start_ms: 173870\n  end_ms: 176430\n- text: Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n  start_ms: 176430\n  end_ms: 179060\n- text: Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n  start_ms: 179060\n  end_ms: 181430\n- text: I gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\n  start_ms: 181430\n  end_ms: 184020\n- text: Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\n  start_ms: 184020\n  end_ms: 186540\n- text: I can not, will not ever be replaced\n  start_ms: 186540\n  end_ms: 189110\n- text: Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 189110\n  end_ms: 192020\n- text: Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  start_ms: 192020\n  end_ms: 194680\n- text: Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  start_ms: 194680\n  end_ms: 196810\n- text: Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  start_ms: 196810\n  end_ms: 199330\n- text: Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  start_ms: 199330\n  end_ms: 202020\n- text: And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  start_ms: 202020\n  end_ms: 204760\n- text: You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  start_ms: 204760\n  end_ms: 207210\n- text: Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  start_ms: 207210\n  end_ms: 209830\n- text: Don't know how much attention you pay\n  start_ms: 209830\n  end_ms: 212280\n- text: You better be ready to die, in this game\n  start_ms: 212280\n  end_ms: 215120\n- text: He wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\n  start_ms: 215120\n  end_ms: 217450\n- text: You can't find your girl, she right here\n  start_ms: 217450\n  end_ms: 219990\n- text: I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n  start_ms: 219990\n  end_ms: 222480\n- text: '''Sides there''s way too many hoes in here'\n  start_ms: 222480\nplain: |-\n  I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n  Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\n  So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n  Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n  I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\n  So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\n  And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n  First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n  Nigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\n  I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n  I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n  Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n  Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n  All you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\n  I'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\n  On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\n  I'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n  Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n  I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  Don't know how much attention you pay\n  You better be ready to die, in this game\n  I thought I told y'all\n  I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n  And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n  Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n  I mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\n  Nigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n  Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n  And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n  I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n  Put my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\n  I'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\n  I'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n  Roll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\n  Inspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\n  I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\n  I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  Don't know how much attention you pay\n  You better be ready to die, in this game\n  Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n  Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n  It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n  Roll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\n  Niggas, drop the top on whatever you in\n  Bitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\n  Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\n  Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n  Four doors, leather and wood\n  Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n  And I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\n  So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\n  Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\n  Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n  Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n  I gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\n  Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\n  I can not, will not ever be replaced\n  Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  Don't know how much attention you pay\n  You better be ready to die, in this game\n  He wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\n  You can't find your girl, she right here\n  I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n  'Sides there's way too many hoes in here\n"},{"id":21094383,"name":"Too Much","trackName":"Too Much","artistName":"The Game","albumName":"West Coast Rebirth","duration":204.564898,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\nWhere niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\nSo we rock it like Tracy McGrady\nSend it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\nI'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\nSo that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\nAnd it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\nFirst LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\nNigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\nI'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\nI'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\nJust number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\nNate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\nAll you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\nI'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\nOn fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\nI'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\nLike you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\nI'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\nDrugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\nToo much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\nToo many bitches in the world not to fuck\nToo much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\nAnd too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\nYou look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\nGrabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\nDon't know how much attention you pay\nYou better be ready to die, in this game\n\nI thought I told y'all\nI'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\nAnd I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\nGame on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\nI mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\nNigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\nNigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\nAnd I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\nI come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\nPut my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\nI'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\nI'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\nRoll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\nInspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\nI brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\nI'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\nDrugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\nDrive fast, both hands on the dash\nClose both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\nIt's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\nRoll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\nNiggas, drop the top on whatever you in\nBitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\nInhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\nNigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\nFour doors, leather and wood\nRide like I got a horse stable under my hood\nAnd I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\nSo if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\nWho had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\nMr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\nLong as my family straight, read this at my wake\nI gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\nTwenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\nI can not, will not ever be replaced\nCause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\nDrugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\nHe wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\nYou can't find your girl, she right here\nI'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n'Sides there's way too many hoes in here","syncedLyrics":"[00:11.22] I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n[00:14.81] Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\n[00:16.62] So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n[00:18.49] Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n[00:20.27] I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\n[00:22.95] So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\n[00:25.64] And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n[00:28.31] First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n[00:31.05] Nigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\n[00:33.70] I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n[00:36.48] I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n[00:39.26] Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n[00:41.98] Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n[00:43.74] All you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\n[00:46.48] I'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\n[00:49.12] On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\n[00:50.95] I'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n[00:54.56] Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n[00:56.31] I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n[00:59.95] Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[01:01.75] Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n[01:04.44] Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n[01:07.28] Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n[01:09.04] And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n[01:11.79] You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n[01:14.42] Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n[01:17.14] Don't know how much attention you pay\n[01:19.88] You better be ready to die, in this game\n[01:21.65] I thought I told y'all\n[01:23.43] I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n[01:25.23] And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n[01:27.18] Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n[01:29.85] I mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\n[01:32.55] Nigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n[01:35.27] Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n[01:37.92] And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n[01:39.71] I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n[01:42.41] Put my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\n[01:45.14] I'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\n[01:47.86] I'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n[01:49.62] Roll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\n[01:52.32] Inspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\n[01:55.13] I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\n[01:57.81] I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n[02:00.57] Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[02:03.22] Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n[02:25.83] Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n[02:28.53] It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n[02:31.29] Roll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\n[02:33.95] Niggas, drop the top on whatever you in\n[02:35.79] Bitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\n[02:38.44] Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\n[02:41.19] Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n[02:43.87] Four doors, leather and wood\n[02:46.58] Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n[02:48.38] And I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\n[02:51.10] So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\n[02:53.83] Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\n[02:56.57] Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n[02:59.26] Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n[03:01.96] I gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\n[03:03.71] Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\n[03:06.44] I can not, will not ever be replaced\n[03:09.12] Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n[03:11.87] Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[03:35.31] He wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\n[03:37.15] You can't find your girl, she right here\n[03:39.88] I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n[03:42.53] 'Sides there's way too many hoes in here\n[03:46.29] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Too Much\n  artist: The Game\n  album: West Coast Rebirth\n  duration_ms: 204565\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n  start_ms: 11220\n  end_ms: 14810\n- text: Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\n  start_ms: 14810\n  end_ms: 16620\n- text: So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n  start_ms: 16620\n  end_ms: 18490\n- text: Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n  start_ms: 18490\n  end_ms: 20270\n- text: I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\n  start_ms: 20270\n  end_ms: 22950\n- text: So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\n  start_ms: 22950\n  end_ms: 25640\n- text: And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n  start_ms: 25640\n  end_ms: 28310\n- text: First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n  start_ms: 28310\n  end_ms: 31050\n- text: Nigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\n  start_ms: 31050\n  end_ms: 33700\n- text: I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n  start_ms: 33700\n  end_ms: 36480\n- text: I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n  start_ms: 36480\n  end_ms: 39260\n- text: Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n  start_ms: 39260\n  end_ms: 41980\n- text: Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n  start_ms: 41980\n  end_ms: 43740\n- text: All you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\n  start_ms: 43740\n  end_ms: 46480\n- text: I'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\n  start_ms: 46480\n  end_ms: 49120\n- text: On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\n  start_ms: 49120\n  end_ms: 50950\n- text: I'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n  start_ms: 50950\n  end_ms: 54560\n- text: Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n  start_ms: 54560\n  end_ms: 56310\n- text: I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 56310\n  end_ms: 59950\n- text: Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  start_ms: 59950\n  end_ms: 61750\n- text: Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  start_ms: 61750\n  end_ms: 64440\n- text: Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  start_ms: 64440\n  end_ms: 67280\n- text: Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  start_ms: 67280\n  end_ms: 69040\n- text: And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  start_ms: 69040\n  end_ms: 71790\n- text: You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  start_ms: 71790\n  end_ms: 74420\n- text: Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  start_ms: 74420\n  end_ms: 77140\n- text: Don't know how much attention you pay\n  start_ms: 77140\n  end_ms: 79880\n- text: You better be ready to die, in this game\n  start_ms: 79880\n  end_ms: 81650\n- text: I thought I told y'all\n  start_ms: 81650\n  end_ms: 83430\n- text: I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n  start_ms: 83430\n  end_ms: 85230\n- text: And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n  start_ms: 85230\n  end_ms: 87180\n- text: Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n  start_ms: 87180\n  end_ms: 89850\n- text: I mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\n  start_ms: 89850\n  end_ms: 92550\n- text: Nigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n  start_ms: 92550\n  end_ms: 95270\n- text: Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n  start_ms: 95270\n  end_ms: 97920\n- text: And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n  start_ms: 97920\n  end_ms: 99710\n- text: I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n  start_ms: 99710\n  end_ms: 102410\n- text: Put my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\n  start_ms: 102410\n  end_ms: 105140\n- text: I'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\n  start_ms: 105140\n  end_ms: 107860\n- text: I'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n  start_ms: 107860\n  end_ms: 109620\n- text: Roll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\n  start_ms: 109620\n  end_ms: 112320\n- text: Inspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\n  start_ms: 112320\n  end_ms: 115130\n- text: I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\n  start_ms: 115130\n  end_ms: 117810\n- text: I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 117810\n  end_ms: 120570\n- text: Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  start_ms: 120570\n  end_ms: 123220\n- text: Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n  start_ms: 123220\n  end_ms: 145830\n- text: Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n  start_ms: 145830\n  end_ms: 148530\n- text: It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n  start_ms: 148530\n  end_ms: 151290\n- text: Roll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\n  start_ms: 151290\n  end_ms: 153950\n- text: Niggas, drop the top on whatever you in\n  start_ms: 153950\n  end_ms: 155790\n- text: Bitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\n  start_ms: 155790\n  end_ms: 158440\n- text: Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\n  start_ms: 158440\n  end_ms: 161190\n- text: Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n  start_ms: 161190\n  end_ms: 163870\n- text: Four doors, leather and wood\n  start_ms: 163870\n  end_ms: 166580\n- text: Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n  start_ms: 166580\n  end_ms: 168380\n- text: And I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\n  start_ms: 168380\n  end_ms: 171100\n- text: So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\n  start_ms: 171100\n  end_ms: 173830\n- text: Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\n  start_ms: 173830\n  end_ms: 176570\n- text: Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n  start_ms: 176570\n  end_ms: 179260\n- text: Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n  start_ms: 179260\n  end_ms: 181960\n- text: I gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\n  start_ms: 181960\n  end_ms: 183710\n- text: Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\n  start_ms: 183710\n  end_ms: 186440\n- text: I can not, will not ever be replaced\n  start_ms: 186440\n  end_ms: 189120\n- text: Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 189120\n  end_ms: 191870\n- text: Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  start_ms: 191870\n  end_ms: 215310\n- text: He wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\n  start_ms: 215310\n  end_ms: 217150\n- text: You can't find your girl, she right here\n  start_ms: 217150\n  end_ms: 219880\n- text: I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n  start_ms: 219880\n  end_ms: 222530\n- text: '''Sides there''s way too many hoes in here'\n  start_ms: 222530\n  end_ms: 226290\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 226290\nplain: |-\n  I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n  Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\n  So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n  Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n  I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\n  So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\n  And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n  First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n  Nigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\n  I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n  I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n  Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n  Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n  All you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\n  I'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\n  On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\n  I'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n  Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n  I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\n  Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  Don't know how much attention you pay\n  You better be ready to die, in this game\n\n  I thought I told y'all\n  I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n  And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n  Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n  I mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\n  Nigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n  Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n  And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n  I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n  Put my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\n  I'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\n  I'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n  Roll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\n  Inspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\n  I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\n  I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\n  Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n  Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n  It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n  Roll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\n  Niggas, drop the top on whatever you in\n  Bitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\n  Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\n  Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n  Four doors, leather and wood\n  Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n  And I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\n  So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\n  Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\n  Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n  Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n  I gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\n  Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\n  I can not, will not ever be replaced\n  Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\n  He wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\n  You can't find your girl, she right here\n  I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n  'Sides there's way too many hoes in here\n"},{"id":17438761,"name":"Too Much","trackName":"Too Much","artistName":"The Game","albumName":"VA - Kingsize RnB & Hiphop Vol 1","duration":251.219592,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\nWhere - don't know good, or know Suge, but the - good\nSo we rock it like Tracy McGrady\nSend it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\nI'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80s\nSo that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all - babies\n\nAnd it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\nFirst LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n- I can't be - like a -\nI'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\nI'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\nJust number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\nNate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n\nAll you other - used to be good like Ken Griffey\nI'm on fire like the tip of a -\nOn fire like a - that let it drip for a month\nI'm a - you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\nLike you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\nI'm the ice cream truck man, - in the trunk man\n- is in the trunk man, call me the frontman\n\nToo much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\nToo many - in the world not to -\nToo much - in the studio not to roll it up\nAnd too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\nYou look like you mad as -, but who cares?\nGrabbin' her by the arm 'cause she stared\nDon't know how much attention you pay\nYou better be ready to die, in this game\n\nI thought I told y'all I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\nAnd I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\nGame on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\nI mean Chi-Town, - it, it can go down\n- I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n- this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\nAnd I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\nI come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n\nPut my head on a - dare a - to -\nI'm gangsta, took more - than Tookie\nI'm alive, so I'ma take a Patron shot for Tookie\nRoll a California - and keep watchin' a movie\nInspired by this - since I was two\nI brought the West coast back, what the - you do?\nI'm the ice cream truck man, - in the trunk man\n- in the trunk man, call me the frontman\n\nToo much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\nToo many - in the world not to -\nToo much - in the studio not to roll it up\nAnd too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\nYou look like you mad as -, but who cares?\nGrabbin' her by the arm 'cause she stared\nDon't know how much attention you pay\nYou better be ready to die, in this game\n\nDrive fast, both hands on the dash\nClose both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\nIt's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\nRoll the -in' windows down, let the bass out\n- drop the top on whatever you in\n- let your ponytail blow in the wind\nInhale the - blow out dollar signs\n- you can drive a Bentley, if only in your mind\n\nFour doors, leather and wood\nRide like I got a horse stable under my hood\nAnd I keep a chrome - under my hood\nSo if I die, - bury me under my hood\nWho had the hottest - in the game, wearin' they chain\nMr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n\nLong as my family straight, read this at my wake\nI gave 'em the documentary, and they scraped the plate\n20 magazine covers, - look at his face\nI can not, will not ever be replaced\n'Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, - in the trunk man\n- in the trunk man, call me the frontman\n\nToo much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\nToo many - in the world not to -\nToo much - in the studio not to roll it up\nAnd too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\nYou look like you mad as -, but who cares?\nGrabbin' her by the arm 'cause she stared\nDon't know how much attention you pay\nYou better be ready to die, in this game\n\nHe wolfin' a lot of - he look scared\nYou can't find your girl, she right here\nI'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n'Sides there's way too many - in here","syncedLyrics":"[00:11.24] I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n[00:13.22] Where - don't know good, or know Suge, but the - good\n[00:16.67] So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n[00:18.72] Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n[00:20.53] I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80s\n[00:23.22] So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all - babies\n[00:26.33] And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n[00:29.01] First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n[00:31.84] - I can't be - like a -\n[00:34.48] I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n[00:37.21] I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n[00:39.28] Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n[00:41.98] Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n[00:44.25] All you other - used to be good like Ken Griffey\n[00:46.94] I'm on fire like the tip of a -\n[00:49.39] On fire like a - that let it drip for a month\n[00:51.94] I'm a - you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n[00:54.51] Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n[00:57.09] I'm the ice cream truck man, - in the trunk man\n[01:00.25] - is in the trunk man, call me the frontman\n[01:02.22] Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n[01:04.42] Too many - in the world not to -\n[01:07.04] Too much - in the studio not to roll it up\n[01:09.78] And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n[01:12.24] You look like you mad as -, but who cares?\n[01:15.18] Grabbin' her by the arm 'cause she stared\n[01:17.64] Don't know how much attention you pay\n[01:20.14] You better be ready to die, in this game\n[01:21.99] I thought I told y'all I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n[01:25.49] And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n[01:27.95] Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n[01:30.64] I mean Chi-Town, - it, it can go down\n[01:33.01] - I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n[01:35.53] - this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n[01:37.96] And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n[01:40.25] I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n[01:42.95] Put my head on a - dare a - to -\n[01:45.30] I'm gangsta, took more - than Tookie\n[01:47.86] I'm alive, so I'ma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n[01:49.80] Roll a California - and keep watchin' a movie\n[01:53.09] Inspired by this - since I was two\n[01:55.66] I brought the West coast back, what the - you do?\n[01:58.08] I'm the ice cream truck man, - in the trunk man\n[02:01.07] - in the trunk man, call me the frontman\n[02:03.22] Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n[02:05.92] Too many - in the world not to -\n[02:08.37] Too much - in the studio not to roll it up\n[02:11.47] And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n[02:13.55] You look like you mad as -, but who cares?\n[02:16.47] Grabbin' her by the arm 'cause she stared\n[02:18.61] Don't know how much attention you pay\n[02:21.36] You better be ready to die, in this game\n[02:24.19] Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n[02:26.36] Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n[02:28.75] It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n[02:31.53] Roll the -in' windows down, let the bass out\n[02:33.95] - drop the top on whatever you in\n[02:35.70] - let your ponytail blow in the wind\n[02:38.98] Inhale the - blow out dollar signs\n[02:41.14] - you can drive a Bentley, if only in your mind\n[02:43.89] Four doors, leather and wood\n[02:46.53] Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n[02:49.38] And I keep a chrome - under my hood\n[02:51.61] So if I die, - bury me under my hood\n[02:54.06] Who had the hottest - in the game, wearin' they chain\n[02:56.85] Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n[02:59.37] Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n[03:02.13] I gave 'em the documentary, and they scraped the plate\n[03:04.25] 20 magazine covers, - look at his face\n[03:06.43] I can not, will not ever be replaced\n[03:09.32] 'Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, - in the trunk man\n[03:12.64] - in the trunk man, call me the frontman\n[03:14.71] Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n[03:17.20] Too many - in the world not to -\n[03:19.81] Too much - in the studio not to roll it up\n[03:22.43] And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n[03:24.84] You look like you mad as -, but who cares?\n[03:27.80] Grabbin' her by the arm 'cause she stared\n[03:30.09] Don't know how much attention you pay\n[03:32.68] You better be ready to die, in this game\n[03:35.35] He wolfin' a lot of - he look scared\n[03:37.90] You can't find your girl, she right here\n[03:40.33] I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n[03:43.04] 'Sides there's way too many - in here\n[03:46.26] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Too Much\n  artist: The Game\n  album: VA - Kingsize RnB & Hiphop Vol 1\n  duration_ms: 251220\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n  start_ms: 11240\n  end_ms: 13220\n- text: Where - don't know good, or know Suge, but the - good\n  start_ms: 13220\n  end_ms: 16670\n- text: So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n  start_ms: 16670\n  end_ms: 18720\n- text: Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n  start_ms: 18720\n  end_ms: 20530\n- text: I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80s\n  start_ms: 20530\n  end_ms: 23220\n- text: So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all - babies\n  start_ms: 23220\n  end_ms: 26330\n- text: And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n  start_ms: 26330\n  end_ms: 29010\n- text: First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n  start_ms: 29010\n  end_ms: 31840\n- text: '- I can''t be - like a -'\n  start_ms: 31840\n  end_ms: 34480\n- text: I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n  start_ms: 34480\n  end_ms: 37210\n- text: I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n  start_ms: 37210\n  end_ms: 39280\n- text: Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n  start_ms: 39280\n  end_ms: 41980\n- text: Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n  start_ms: 41980\n  end_ms: 44250\n- text: All you other - used to be good like Ken Griffey\n  start_ms: 44250\n  end_ms: 46940\n- text: I'm on fire like the tip of a -\n  start_ms: 46940\n  end_ms: 49390\n- text: On fire like a - that let it drip for a month\n  start_ms: 49390\n  end_ms: 51940\n- text: I'm a - you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n  start_ms: 51940\n  end_ms: 54510\n- text: Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n  start_ms: 54510\n  end_ms: 57090\n- text: I'm the ice cream truck man, - in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 57090\n  end_ms: 60250\n- text: '- is in the trunk man, call me the frontman'\n  start_ms: 60250\n  end_ms: 62220\n- text: Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  start_ms: 62220\n  end_ms: 64420\n- text: Too many - in the world not to -\n  start_ms: 64420\n  end_ms: 67040\n- text: Too much - in the studio not to roll it up\n  start_ms: 67040\n  end_ms: 69780\n- text: And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  start_ms: 69780\n  end_ms: 72240\n- text: You look like you mad as -, but who cares?\n  start_ms: 72240\n  end_ms: 75180\n- text: Grabbin' her by the arm 'cause she stared\n  start_ms: 75180\n  end_ms: 77640\n- text: Don't know how much attention you pay\n  start_ms: 77640\n  end_ms: 80140\n- text: You better be ready to die, in this game\n  start_ms: 80140\n  end_ms: 81990\n- text: I thought I told y'all I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n  start_ms: 81990\n  end_ms: 85490\n- text: And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n  start_ms: 85490\n  end_ms: 87950\n- text: Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n  start_ms: 87950\n  end_ms: 90640\n- text: I mean Chi-Town, - it, it can go down\n  start_ms: 90640\n  end_ms: 93010\n- text: '- I spit the whole round, fo'' plus fo'' pounds'\n  start_ms: 93010\n  end_ms: 95530\n- text: '- this the wild wild West, call it a showdown'\n  start_ms: 95530\n  end_ms: 97960\n- text: And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n  start_ms: 97960\n  end_ms: 100250\n- text: I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n  start_ms: 100250\n  end_ms: 102950\n- text: Put my head on a - dare a - to -\n  start_ms: 102950\n  end_ms: 105300\n- text: I'm gangsta, took more - than Tookie\n  start_ms: 105300\n  end_ms: 107860\n- text: I'm alive, so I'ma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n  start_ms: 107860\n  end_ms: 109800\n- text: Roll a California - and keep watchin' a movie\n  start_ms: 109800\n  end_ms: 113090\n- text: Inspired by this - since I was two\n  start_ms: 113090\n  end_ms: 115660\n- text: I brought the West coast back, what the - you do?\n  start_ms: 115660\n  end_ms: 118080\n- text: I'm the ice cream truck man, - in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 118080\n  end_ms: 121070\n- text: '- in the trunk man, call me the frontman'\n  start_ms: 121070\n  end_ms: 123220\n- text: Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  start_ms: 123220\n  end_ms: 125920\n- text: Too many - in the world not to -\n  start_ms: 125920\n  end_ms: 128370\n- text: Too much - in the studio not to roll it up\n  start_ms: 128370\n  end_ms: 131470\n- text: And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  start_ms: 131470\n  end_ms: 133550\n- text: You look like you mad as -, but who cares?\n  start_ms: 133550\n  end_ms: 136470\n- text: Grabbin' her by the arm 'cause she stared\n  start_ms: 136470\n  end_ms: 138610\n- text: Don't know how much attention you pay\n  start_ms: 138610\n  end_ms: 141360\n- text: You better be ready to die, in this game\n  start_ms: 141360\n  end_ms: 144190\n- text: Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n  start_ms: 144190\n  end_ms: 146360\n- text: Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n  start_ms: 146360\n  end_ms: 148750\n- text: It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n  start_ms: 148750\n  end_ms: 151530\n- text: Roll the -in' windows down, let the bass out\n  start_ms: 151530\n  end_ms: 153950\n- text: '- drop the top on whatever you in'\n  start_ms: 153950\n  end_ms: 155700\n- text: '- let your ponytail blow in the wind'\n  start_ms: 155700\n  end_ms: 158980\n- text: Inhale the - blow out dollar signs\n  start_ms: 158980\n  end_ms: 161140\n- text: '- you can drive a Bentley, if only in your mind'\n  start_ms: 161140\n  end_ms: 163890\n- text: Four doors, leather and wood\n  start_ms: 163890\n  end_ms: 166530\n- text: Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n  start_ms: 166530\n  end_ms: 169380\n- text: And I keep a chrome - under my hood\n  start_ms: 169380\n  end_ms: 171610\n- text: So if I die, - bury me under my hood\n  start_ms: 171610\n  end_ms: 174060\n- text: Who had the hottest - in the game, wearin' they chain\n  start_ms: 174060\n  end_ms: 176850\n- text: Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n  start_ms: 176850\n  end_ms: 179370\n- text: Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n  start_ms: 179370\n  end_ms: 182130\n- text: I gave 'em the documentary, and they scraped the plate\n  start_ms: 182130\n  end_ms: 184250\n- text: 20 magazine covers, - look at his face\n  start_ms: 184250\n  end_ms: 186430\n- text: I can not, will not ever be replaced\n  start_ms: 186430\n  end_ms: 189320\n- text: '''Cause I''m the ice cream truck man, - in the trunk man'\n  start_ms: 189320\n  end_ms: 192640\n- text: '- in the trunk man, call me the frontman'\n  start_ms: 192640\n  end_ms: 194710\n- text: Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  start_ms: 194710\n  end_ms: 197200\n- text: Too many - in the world not to -\n  start_ms: 197200\n  end_ms: 199810\n- text: Too much - in the studio not to roll it up\n  start_ms: 199810\n  end_ms: 202430\n- text: And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  start_ms: 202430\n  end_ms: 204840\n- text: You look like you mad as -, but who cares?\n  start_ms: 204840\n  end_ms: 207800\n- text: Grabbin' her by the arm 'cause she stared\n  start_ms: 207800\n  end_ms: 210090\n- text: Don't know how much attention you pay\n  start_ms: 210090\n  end_ms: 212680\n- text: You better be ready to die, in this game\n  start_ms: 212680\n  end_ms: 215350\n- text: He wolfin' a lot of - he look scared\n  start_ms: 215350\n  end_ms: 217900\n- text: You can't find your girl, she right here\n  start_ms: 217900\n  end_ms: 220330\n- text: I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n  start_ms: 220330\n  end_ms: 223040\n- text: '''Sides there''s way too many - in here'\n  start_ms: 223040\n  end_ms: 226260\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 226260\nplain: |-\n  I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n  Where - don't know good, or know Suge, but the - good\n  So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n  Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n  I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80s\n  So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all - babies\n\n  And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n  First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n  - I can't be - like a -\n  I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n  I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n  Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n  Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n\n  All you other - used to be good like Ken Griffey\n  I'm on fire like the tip of a -\n  On fire like a - that let it drip for a month\n  I'm a - you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n  Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n  I'm the ice cream truck man, - in the trunk man\n  - is in the trunk man, call me the frontman\n\n  Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  Too many - in the world not to -\n  Too much - in the studio not to roll it up\n  And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  You look like you mad as -, but who cares?\n  Grabbin' her by the arm 'cause she stared\n  Don't know how much attention you pay\n  You better be ready to die, in this game\n\n  I thought I told y'all I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n  And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n  Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n  I mean Chi-Town, - it, it can go down\n  - I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n  - this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n  And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n  I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n\n  Put my head on a - dare a - to -\n  I'm gangsta, took more - than Tookie\n  I'm alive, so I'ma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n  Roll a California - and keep watchin' a movie\n  Inspired by this - since I was two\n  I brought the West coast back, what the - you do?\n  I'm the ice cream truck man, - in the trunk man\n  - in the trunk man, call me the frontman\n\n  Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  Too many - in the world not to -\n  Too much - in the studio not to roll it up\n  And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  You look like you mad as -, but who cares?\n  Grabbin' her by the arm 'cause she stared\n  Don't know how much attention you pay\n  You better be ready to die, in this game\n\n  Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n  Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n  It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n  Roll the -in' windows down, let the bass out\n  - drop the top on whatever you in\n  - let your ponytail blow in the wind\n  Inhale the - blow out dollar signs\n  - you can drive a Bentley, if only in your mind\n\n  Four doors, leather and wood\n  Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n  And I keep a chrome - under my hood\n  So if I die, - bury me under my hood\n  Who had the hottest - in the game, wearin' they chain\n  Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n\n  Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n  I gave 'em the documentary, and they scraped the plate\n  20 magazine covers, - look at his face\n  I can not, will not ever be replaced\n  'Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, - in the trunk man\n  - in the trunk man, call me the frontman\n\n  Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  Too many - in the world not to -\n  Too much - in the studio not to roll it up\n  And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  You look like you mad as -, but who cares?\n  Grabbin' her by the arm 'cause she stared\n  Don't know how much attention you pay\n  You better be ready to die, in this game\n\n  He wolfin' a lot of - he look scared\n  You can't find your girl, she right here\n  I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n  'Sides there's way too many - in here\n"},{"id":20550514,"name":"Too Much","trackName":"Too Much","artistName":"The Game","albumName":"Doctor’s Advocate","duration":231.1920128,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\nWhere niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\nSo we rock it like Tracy McGrady\nSend it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\nI'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\nSo that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\nAnd it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\nFirst LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\nNigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\nI'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\nI'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\nJust number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\nNate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\nAll you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\nI'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\nOn fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\nI'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\nLike you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\nI'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\nDrugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\nToo much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\nToo many bitches in the world not to fuck\nToo much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\nAnd too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\nYou look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\nGrabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\nDon't know how much attention you pay\nYou better be ready to die, in this game\n\nI thought I told y'all\nI'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\nAnd I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\nGame on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\nI mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\nNigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\nNigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\nAnd I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\nI come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\nPut my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\nI'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\nI'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\nRoll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\nInspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\nI brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\nI'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\nDrugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\nDrive fast, both hands on the dash\nClose both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\nIt's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\nRoll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\nNiggas, drop the top on whatever you in\nBitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\nInhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\nNigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\nFour doors, leather and wood\nRide like I got a horse stable under my hood\nAnd I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\nSo if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\nWho had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\nMr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\nLong as my family straight, read this at my wake\nI gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\nTwenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\nI can not, will not ever be replaced\nCause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\nDrugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\nHe wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\nYou can't find your girl, she right here\nI'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n'Sides there's way too many hoes in here","syncedLyrics":"[00:11.22] I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n[00:14.81] Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\n[00:16.62] So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n[00:18.49] Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n[00:20.27] I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\n[00:22.95] So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\n[00:25.64] And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n[00:28.31] First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n[00:31.05] Nigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\n[00:33.70] I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n[00:36.48] I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n[00:39.26] Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n[00:41.98] Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n[00:43.74] All you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\n[00:46.48] I'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\n[00:49.12] On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\n[00:50.95] I'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n[00:54.56] Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n[00:56.31] I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n[00:59.95] Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[01:01.75] Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n[01:04.44] Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n[01:07.28] Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n[01:09.04] And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n[01:11.79] You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n[01:14.42] Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n[01:17.14] Don't know how much attention you pay\n[01:19.88] You better be ready to die, in this game\n[01:21.65] I thought I told y'all\n[01:23.43] I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n[01:25.23] And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n[01:27.18] Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n[01:29.85] I mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\n[01:32.55] Nigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n[01:35.27] Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n[01:37.92] And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n[01:39.71] I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n[01:42.41] Put my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\n[01:45.14] I'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\n[01:47.86] I'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n[01:49.62] Roll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\n[01:52.32] Inspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\n[01:55.13] I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\n[01:57.81] I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n[02:00.57] Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[02:03.22] Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n[02:25.83] Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n[02:28.53] It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n[02:31.29] Roll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\n[02:33.95] Niggas, drop the top on whatever you in\n[02:35.79] Bitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\n[02:38.44] Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\n[02:41.19] Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n[02:43.87] Four doors, leather and wood\n[02:46.58] Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n[02:48.38] And I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\n[02:51.10] So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\n[02:53.83] Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\n[02:56.57] Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n[02:59.26] Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n[03:01.96] I gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\n[03:03.71] Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\n[03:06.44] I can not, will not ever be replaced\n[03:09.12] Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n[03:11.87] Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[03:35.31] He wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\n[03:37.15] You can't find your girl, she right here\n[03:39.88] I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n[03:42.53] 'Sides there's way too many hoes in here\n[03:46.29] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Too Much\n  artist: The Game\n  album: Doctor’s Advocate\n  duration_ms: 231192\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n  start_ms: 11220\n  end_ms: 14810\n- text: Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\n  start_ms: 14810\n  end_ms: 16620\n- text: So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n  start_ms: 16620\n  end_ms: 18490\n- text: Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n  start_ms: 18490\n  end_ms: 20270\n- text: I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\n  start_ms: 20270\n  end_ms: 22950\n- text: So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\n  start_ms: 22950\n  end_ms: 25640\n- text: And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n  start_ms: 25640\n  end_ms: 28310\n- text: First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n  start_ms: 28310\n  end_ms: 31050\n- text: Nigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\n  start_ms: 31050\n  end_ms: 33700\n- text: I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n  start_ms: 33700\n  end_ms: 36480\n- text: I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n  start_ms: 36480\n  end_ms: 39260\n- text: Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n  start_ms: 39260\n  end_ms: 41980\n- text: Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n  start_ms: 41980\n  end_ms: 43740\n- text: All you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\n  start_ms: 43740\n  end_ms: 46480\n- text: I'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\n  start_ms: 46480\n  end_ms: 49120\n- text: On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\n  start_ms: 49120\n  end_ms: 50950\n- text: I'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n  start_ms: 50950\n  end_ms: 54560\n- text: Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n  start_ms: 54560\n  end_ms: 56310\n- text: I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 56310\n  end_ms: 59950\n- text: Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  start_ms: 59950\n  end_ms: 61750\n- text: Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  start_ms: 61750\n  end_ms: 64440\n- text: Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  start_ms: 64440\n  end_ms: 67280\n- text: Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  start_ms: 67280\n  end_ms: 69040\n- text: And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  start_ms: 69040\n  end_ms: 71790\n- text: You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  start_ms: 71790\n  end_ms: 74420\n- text: Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  start_ms: 74420\n  end_ms: 77140\n- text: Don't know how much attention you pay\n  start_ms: 77140\n  end_ms: 79880\n- text: You better be ready to die, in this game\n  start_ms: 79880\n  end_ms: 81650\n- text: I thought I told y'all\n  start_ms: 81650\n  end_ms: 83430\n- text: I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n  start_ms: 83430\n  end_ms: 85230\n- text: And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n  start_ms: 85230\n  end_ms: 87180\n- text: Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n  start_ms: 87180\n  end_ms: 89850\n- text: I mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\n  start_ms: 89850\n  end_ms: 92550\n- text: Nigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n  start_ms: 92550\n  end_ms: 95270\n- text: Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n  start_ms: 95270\n  end_ms: 97920\n- text: And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n  start_ms: 97920\n  end_ms: 99710\n- text: I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n  start_ms: 99710\n  end_ms: 102410\n- text: Put my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\n  start_ms: 102410\n  end_ms: 105140\n- text: I'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\n  start_ms: 105140\n  end_ms: 107860\n- text: I'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n  start_ms: 107860\n  end_ms: 109620\n- text: Roll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\n  start_ms: 109620\n  end_ms: 112320\n- text: Inspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\n  start_ms: 112320\n  end_ms: 115130\n- text: I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\n  start_ms: 115130\n  end_ms: 117810\n- text: I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 117810\n  end_ms: 120570\n- text: Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  start_ms: 120570\n  end_ms: 123220\n- text: Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n  start_ms: 123220\n  end_ms: 145830\n- text: Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n  start_ms: 145830\n  end_ms: 148530\n- text: It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n  start_ms: 148530\n  end_ms: 151290\n- text: Roll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\n  start_ms: 151290\n  end_ms: 153950\n- text: Niggas, drop the top on whatever you in\n  start_ms: 153950\n  end_ms: 155790\n- text: Bitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\n  start_ms: 155790\n  end_ms: 158440\n- text: Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\n  start_ms: 158440\n  end_ms: 161190\n- text: Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n  start_ms: 161190\n  end_ms: 163870\n- text: Four doors, leather and wood\n  start_ms: 163870\n  end_ms: 166580\n- text: Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n  start_ms: 166580\n  end_ms: 168380\n- text: And I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\n  start_ms: 168380\n  end_ms: 171100\n- text: So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\n  start_ms: 171100\n  end_ms: 173830\n- text: Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\n  start_ms: 173830\n  end_ms: 176570\n- text: Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n  start_ms: 176570\n  end_ms: 179260\n- text: Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n  start_ms: 179260\n  end_ms: 181960\n- text: I gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\n  start_ms: 181960\n  end_ms: 183710\n- text: Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\n  start_ms: 183710\n  end_ms: 186440\n- text: I can not, will not ever be replaced\n  start_ms: 186440\n  end_ms: 189120\n- text: Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 189120\n  end_ms: 191870\n- text: Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  start_ms: 191870\n  end_ms: 215310\n- text: He wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\n  start_ms: 215310\n  end_ms: 217150\n- text: You can't find your girl, she right here\n  start_ms: 217150\n  end_ms: 219880\n- text: I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n  start_ms: 219880\n  end_ms: 222530\n- text: '''Sides there''s way too many hoes in here'\n  start_ms: 222530\n  end_ms: 226290\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 226290\nplain: |-\n  I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n  Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\n  So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n  Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n  I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\n  So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\n  And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n  First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n  Nigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\n  I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n  I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n  Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n  Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n  All you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\n  I'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\n  On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\n  I'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n  Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n  I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\n  Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  Don't know how much attention you pay\n  You better be ready to die, in this game\n\n  I thought I told y'all\n  I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n  And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n  Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n  I mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\n  Nigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n  Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n  And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n  I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n  Put my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\n  I'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\n  I'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n  Roll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\n  Inspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\n  I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\n  I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\n  Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n  Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n  It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n  Roll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\n  Niggas, drop the top on whatever you in\n  Bitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\n  Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\n  Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n  Four doors, leather and wood\n  Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n  And I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\n  So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\n  Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\n  Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n  Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n  I gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\n  Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\n  I can not, will not ever be replaced\n  Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\n  He wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\n  You can't find your girl, she right here\n  I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n  'Sides there's way too many hoes in here\n"},{"id":21340032,"name":"Too Much","trackName":"Too Much","artistName":"The Game","albumName":"Doctor’s Advocate","duration":363.058625,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\nWhere niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\nSo we rock it like Tracy McGrady\nSend it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\nI'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\nSo that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\nAnd it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\nFirst LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\nNigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\nI'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\nI'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\nJust number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\nNate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\nAll you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\nI'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\nOn fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\nI'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\nLike you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\nI'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\nDrugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\nToo much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\nToo many bitches in the world not to fuck\nToo much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\nAnd too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\nYou look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\nGrabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\nDon't know how much attention you pay\nYou better be ready to die, in this game\n\nI thought I told y'all\nI'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\nAnd I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\nGame on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\nI mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\nNigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\nNigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\nAnd I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\nI come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\nPut my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\nI'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\nI'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\nRoll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\nInspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\nI brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\nI'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\nDrugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\nDrive fast, both hands on the dash\nClose both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\nIt's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\nRoll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\nNiggas, drop the top on whatever you in\nBitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\nInhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\nNigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\nFour doors, leather and wood\nRide like I got a horse stable under my hood\nAnd I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\nSo if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\nWho had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\nMr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\nLong as my family straight, read this at my wake\nI gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\nTwenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\nI can not, will not ever be replaced\nCause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\nDrugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\nHe wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\nYou can't find your girl, she right here\nI'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n'Sides there's way too many hoes in here","syncedLyrics":"[00:11.22] I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n[00:14.81] Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\n[00:16.62] So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n[00:18.49] Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n[00:20.27] I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\n[00:22.95] So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\n[00:25.64] And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n[00:28.31] First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n[00:31.05] Nigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\n[00:33.70] I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n[00:36.48] I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n[00:39.26] Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n[00:41.98] Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n[00:43.74] All you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\n[00:46.48] I'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\n[00:49.12] On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\n[00:50.95] I'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n[00:54.56] Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n[00:56.31] I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n[00:59.95] Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[01:01.75] Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n[01:04.44] Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n[01:07.28] Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n[01:09.04] And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n[01:11.79] You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n[01:14.42] Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n[01:17.14] Don't know how much attention you pay\n[01:19.88] You better be ready to die, in this game\n[01:21.65] I thought I told y'all\n[01:23.43] I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n[01:25.23] And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n[01:27.18] Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n[01:29.85] I mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\n[01:32.55] Nigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n[01:35.27] Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n[01:37.92] And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n[01:39.71] I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n[01:42.41] Put my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\n[01:45.14] I'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\n[01:47.86] I'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n[01:49.62] Roll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\n[01:52.32] Inspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\n[01:55.13] I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\n[01:57.81] I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n[02:00.57] Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[02:03.22] Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n[02:25.83] Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n[02:28.53] It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n[02:31.29] Roll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\n[02:33.95] Niggas, drop the top on whatever you in\n[02:35.79] Bitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\n[02:38.44] Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\n[02:41.19] Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n[02:43.87] Four doors, leather and wood\n[02:46.58] Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n[02:48.38] And I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\n[02:51.10] So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\n[02:53.83] Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\n[02:56.57] Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n[02:59.26] Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n[03:01.96] I gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\n[03:03.71] Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\n[03:06.44] I can not, will not ever be replaced\n[03:09.12] Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n[03:11.87] Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[03:35.31] He wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\n[03:37.15] You can't find your girl, she right here\n[03:39.88] I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n[03:42.53] 'Sides there's way too many hoes in here\n[03:46.29] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Too Much\n  artist: The Game\n  album: Doctor’s Advocate\n  duration_ms: 363059\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n  start_ms: 11220\n  end_ms: 14810\n- text: Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\n  start_ms: 14810\n  end_ms: 16620\n- text: So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n  start_ms: 16620\n  end_ms: 18490\n- text: Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n  start_ms: 18490\n  end_ms: 20270\n- text: I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\n  start_ms: 20270\n  end_ms: 22950\n- text: So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\n  start_ms: 22950\n  end_ms: 25640\n- text: And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n  start_ms: 25640\n  end_ms: 28310\n- text: First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n  start_ms: 28310\n  end_ms: 31050\n- text: Nigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\n  start_ms: 31050\n  end_ms: 33700\n- text: I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n  start_ms: 33700\n  end_ms: 36480\n- text: I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n  start_ms: 36480\n  end_ms: 39260\n- text: Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n  start_ms: 39260\n  end_ms: 41980\n- text: Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n  start_ms: 41980\n  end_ms: 43740\n- text: All you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\n  start_ms: 43740\n  end_ms: 46480\n- text: I'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\n  start_ms: 46480\n  end_ms: 49120\n- text: On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\n  start_ms: 49120\n  end_ms: 50950\n- text: I'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n  start_ms: 50950\n  end_ms: 54560\n- text: Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n  start_ms: 54560\n  end_ms: 56310\n- text: I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 56310\n  end_ms: 59950\n- text: Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  start_ms: 59950\n  end_ms: 61750\n- text: Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  start_ms: 61750\n  end_ms: 64440\n- text: Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  start_ms: 64440\n  end_ms: 67280\n- text: Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  start_ms: 67280\n  end_ms: 69040\n- text: And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  start_ms: 69040\n  end_ms: 71790\n- text: You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  start_ms: 71790\n  end_ms: 74420\n- text: Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  start_ms: 74420\n  end_ms: 77140\n- text: Don't know how much attention you pay\n  start_ms: 77140\n  end_ms: 79880\n- text: You better be ready to die, in this game\n  start_ms: 79880\n  end_ms: 81650\n- text: I thought I told y'all\n  start_ms: 81650\n  end_ms: 83430\n- text: I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n  start_ms: 83430\n  end_ms: 85230\n- text: And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n  start_ms: 85230\n  end_ms: 87180\n- text: Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n  start_ms: 87180\n  end_ms: 89850\n- text: I mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\n  start_ms: 89850\n  end_ms: 92550\n- text: Nigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n  start_ms: 92550\n  end_ms: 95270\n- text: Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n  start_ms: 95270\n  end_ms: 97920\n- text: And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n  start_ms: 97920\n  end_ms: 99710\n- text: I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n  start_ms: 99710\n  end_ms: 102410\n- text: Put my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\n  start_ms: 102410\n  end_ms: 105140\n- text: I'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\n  start_ms: 105140\n  end_ms: 107860\n- text: I'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n  start_ms: 107860\n  end_ms: 109620\n- text: Roll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\n  start_ms: 109620\n  end_ms: 112320\n- text: Inspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\n  start_ms: 112320\n  end_ms: 115130\n- text: I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\n  start_ms: 115130\n  end_ms: 117810\n- text: I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 117810\n  end_ms: 120570\n- text: Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  start_ms: 120570\n  end_ms: 123220\n- text: Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n  start_ms: 123220\n  end_ms: 145830\n- text: Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n  start_ms: 145830\n  end_ms: 148530\n- text: It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n  start_ms: 148530\n  end_ms: 151290\n- text: Roll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\n  start_ms: 151290\n  end_ms: 153950\n- text: Niggas, drop the top on whatever you in\n  start_ms: 153950\n  end_ms: 155790\n- text: Bitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\n  start_ms: 155790\n  end_ms: 158440\n- text: Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\n  start_ms: 158440\n  end_ms: 161190\n- text: Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n  start_ms: 161190\n  end_ms: 163870\n- text: Four doors, leather and wood\n  start_ms: 163870\n  end_ms: 166580\n- text: Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n  start_ms: 166580\n  end_ms: 168380\n- text: And I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\n  start_ms: 168380\n  end_ms: 171100\n- text: So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\n  start_ms: 171100\n  end_ms: 173830\n- text: Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\n  start_ms: 173830\n  end_ms: 176570\n- text: Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n  start_ms: 176570\n  end_ms: 179260\n- text: Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n  start_ms: 179260\n  end_ms: 181960\n- text: I gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\n  start_ms: 181960\n  end_ms: 183710\n- text: Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\n  start_ms: 183710\n  end_ms: 186440\n- text: I can not, will not ever be replaced\n  start_ms: 186440\n  end_ms: 189120\n- text: Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 189120\n  end_ms: 191870\n- text: Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  start_ms: 191870\n  end_ms: 215310\n- text: He wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\n  start_ms: 215310\n  end_ms: 217150\n- text: You can't find your girl, she right here\n  start_ms: 217150\n  end_ms: 219880\n- text: I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n  start_ms: 219880\n  end_ms: 222530\n- text: '''Sides there''s way too many hoes in here'\n  start_ms: 222530\n  end_ms: 226290\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 226290\nplain: |-\n  I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n  Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\n  So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n  Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n  I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\n  So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\n  And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n  First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n  Nigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\n  I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n  I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n  Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n  Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n  All you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\n  I'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\n  On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\n  I'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n  Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n  I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\n  Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  Don't know how much attention you pay\n  You better be ready to die, in this game\n\n  I thought I told y'all\n  I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n  And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n  Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n  I mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\n  Nigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n  Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n  And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n  I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n  Put my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\n  I'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\n  I'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n  Roll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\n  Inspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\n  I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\n  I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\n  Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n  Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n  It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n  Roll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\n  Niggas, drop the top on whatever you in\n  Bitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\n  Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\n  Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n  Four doors, leather and wood\n  Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n  And I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\n  So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\n  Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\n  Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n  Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n  I gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\n  Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\n  I can not, will not ever be replaced\n  Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\n  He wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\n  You can't find your girl, she right here\n  I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n  'Sides there's way too many hoes in here\n"},{"id":10362661,"name":"Too Much","trackName":"Too Much","artistName":"The Game","albumName":"Top 30","duration":251.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\nWhere niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\nSo we rock it like Tracy McGrady\nSend it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\nI'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\nSo that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\nAnd it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\nFirst LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\nNigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\nI'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\nI'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\nJust number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\nNate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\nAll you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\nI'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\nOn fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\nI'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\nLike you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\nI'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\nDrugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\nToo much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\nToo many bitches in the world not to fuck\nToo much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\nAnd too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\nYou look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\nGrabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\nDon't know how much attention you pay\nYou better be ready to die, in this game\n\nI thought I told y'all\nI'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\nAnd I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\nGame on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\nI mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\nNigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\nNigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\nAnd I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\nI come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\nPut my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\nI'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\nI'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\nRoll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\nInspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\nI brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\nI'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\nDrugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\nDrive fast, both hands on the dash\nClose both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\nIt's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\nRoll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\nNiggas, drop the top on whatever you in\nBitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\nInhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\nNigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\nFour doors, leather and wood\nRide like I got a horse stable under my hood\nAnd I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\nSo if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\nWho had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\nMr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\nLong as my family straight, read this at my wake\nI gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\nTwenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\nI can not, will not ever be replaced\nCause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\nDrugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\nHe wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\nYou can't find your girl, she right here\nI'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n'Sides there's way too many hoes in here","syncedLyrics":"[00:11.22] I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n[00:14.81] Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\n[00:16.62] So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n[00:18.49] Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n[00:20.27] I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\n[00:22.95] So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\n[00:25.64] And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n[00:28.31] First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n[00:31.05] Nigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\n[00:33.70] I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n[00:36.48] I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n[00:39.26] Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n[00:41.98] Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n[00:43.74] All you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\n[00:46.48] I'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\n[00:49.12] On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\n[00:50.95] I'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n[00:54.56] Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n[00:56.31] I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n[00:59.95] Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[01:01.75] Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n[01:04.44] Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n[01:07.28] Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n[01:09.04] And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n[01:11.79] You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n[01:14.42] Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n[01:17.14] Don't know how much attention you pay\n[01:19.88] You better be ready to die, in this game\n[01:21.65] I thought I told y'all\n[01:23.43] I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n[01:25.23] And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n[01:27.18] Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n[01:29.85] I mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\n[01:32.55] Nigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n[01:35.27] Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n[01:37.92] And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n[01:39.71] I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n[01:42.41] Put my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\n[01:45.14] I'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\n[01:47.86] I'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n[01:49.62] Roll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\n[01:52.32] Inspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\n[01:55.13] I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\n[01:57.81] I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n[02:00.57] Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[02:03.22] Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n[02:25.83] Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n[02:28.53] It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n[02:31.29] Roll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\n[02:33.95] Niggas, drop the top on whatever you in\n[02:35.79] Bitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\n[02:38.44] Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\n[02:41.19] Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n[02:43.87] Four doors, leather and wood\n[02:46.58] Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n[02:48.38] And I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\n[02:51.10] So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\n[02:53.83] Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\n[02:56.57] Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n[02:59.26] Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n[03:01.96] I gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\n[03:03.71] Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\n[03:06.44] I can not, will not ever be replaced\n[03:09.12] Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n[03:11.87] Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[03:35.31] He wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\n[03:37.15] You can't find your girl, she right here\n[03:39.88] I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n[03:42.53] 'Sides there's way too many hoes in here\n[03:46.29] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Too Much\n  artist: The Game\n  album: Top 30\n  duration_ms: 251000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n  start_ms: 11220\n  end_ms: 14810\n- text: Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\n  start_ms: 14810\n  end_ms: 16620\n- text: So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n  start_ms: 16620\n  end_ms: 18490\n- text: Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n  start_ms: 18490\n  end_ms: 20270\n- text: I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\n  start_ms: 20270\n  end_ms: 22950\n- text: So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\n  start_ms: 22950\n  end_ms: 25640\n- text: And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n  start_ms: 25640\n  end_ms: 28310\n- text: First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n  start_ms: 28310\n  end_ms: 31050\n- text: Nigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\n  start_ms: 31050\n  end_ms: 33700\n- text: I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n  start_ms: 33700\n  end_ms: 36480\n- text: I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n  start_ms: 36480\n  end_ms: 39260\n- text: Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n  start_ms: 39260\n  end_ms: 41980\n- text: Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n  start_ms: 41980\n  end_ms: 43740\n- text: All you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\n  start_ms: 43740\n  end_ms: 46480\n- text: I'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\n  start_ms: 46480\n  end_ms: 49120\n- text: On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\n  start_ms: 49120\n  end_ms: 50950\n- text: I'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n  start_ms: 50950\n  end_ms: 54560\n- text: Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n  start_ms: 54560\n  end_ms: 56310\n- text: I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 56310\n  end_ms: 59950\n- text: Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  start_ms: 59950\n  end_ms: 61750\n- text: Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  start_ms: 61750\n  end_ms: 64440\n- text: Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  start_ms: 64440\n  end_ms: 67280\n- text: Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  start_ms: 67280\n  end_ms: 69040\n- text: And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  start_ms: 69040\n  end_ms: 71790\n- text: You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  start_ms: 71790\n  end_ms: 74420\n- text: Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  start_ms: 74420\n  end_ms: 77140\n- text: Don't know how much attention you pay\n  start_ms: 77140\n  end_ms: 79880\n- text: You better be ready to die, in this game\n  start_ms: 79880\n  end_ms: 81650\n- text: I thought I told y'all\n  start_ms: 81650\n  end_ms: 83430\n- text: I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n  start_ms: 83430\n  end_ms: 85230\n- text: And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n  start_ms: 85230\n  end_ms: 87180\n- text: Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n  start_ms: 87180\n  end_ms: 89850\n- text: I mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\n  start_ms: 89850\n  end_ms: 92550\n- text: Nigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n  start_ms: 92550\n  end_ms: 95270\n- text: Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n  start_ms: 95270\n  end_ms: 97920\n- text: And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n  start_ms: 97920\n  end_ms: 99710\n- text: I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n  start_ms: 99710\n  end_ms: 102410\n- text: Put my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\n  start_ms: 102410\n  end_ms: 105140\n- text: I'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\n  start_ms: 105140\n  end_ms: 107860\n- text: I'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n  start_ms: 107860\n  end_ms: 109620\n- text: Roll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\n  start_ms: 109620\n  end_ms: 112320\n- text: Inspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\n  start_ms: 112320\n  end_ms: 115130\n- text: I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\n  start_ms: 115130\n  end_ms: 117810\n- text: I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 117810\n  end_ms: 120570\n- text: Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  start_ms: 120570\n  end_ms: 123220\n- text: Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n  start_ms: 123220\n  end_ms: 145830\n- text: Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n  start_ms: 145830\n  end_ms: 148530\n- text: It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n  start_ms: 148530\n  end_ms: 151290\n- text: Roll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\n  start_ms: 151290\n  end_ms: 153950\n- text: Niggas, drop the top on whatever you in\n  start_ms: 153950\n  end_ms: 155790\n- text: Bitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\n  start_ms: 155790\n  end_ms: 158440\n- text: Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\n  start_ms: 158440\n  end_ms: 161190\n- text: Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n  start_ms: 161190\n  end_ms: 163870\n- text: Four doors, leather and wood\n  start_ms: 163870\n  end_ms: 166580\n- text: Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n  start_ms: 166580\n  end_ms: 168380\n- text: And I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\n  start_ms: 168380\n  end_ms: 171100\n- text: So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\n  start_ms: 171100\n  end_ms: 173830\n- text: Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\n  start_ms: 173830\n  end_ms: 176570\n- text: Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n  start_ms: 176570\n  end_ms: 179260\n- text: Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n  start_ms: 179260\n  end_ms: 181960\n- text: I gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\n  start_ms: 181960\n  end_ms: 183710\n- text: Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\n  start_ms: 183710\n  end_ms: 186440\n- text: I can not, will not ever be replaced\n  start_ms: 186440\n  end_ms: 189120\n- text: Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 189120\n  end_ms: 191870\n- text: Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  start_ms: 191870\n  end_ms: 215310\n- text: He wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\n  start_ms: 215310\n  end_ms: 217150\n- text: You can't find your girl, she right here\n  start_ms: 217150\n  end_ms: 219880\n- text: I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n  start_ms: 219880\n  end_ms: 222530\n- text: '''Sides there''s way too many hoes in here'\n  start_ms: 222530\n  end_ms: 226290\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 226290\nplain: |-\n  I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n  Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\n  So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n  Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n  I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\n  So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\n  And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n  First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n  Nigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\n  I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n  I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n  Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n  Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n  All you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\n  I'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\n  On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\n  I'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n  Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n  I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\n  Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  Don't know how much attention you pay\n  You better be ready to die, in this game\n\n  I thought I told y'all\n  I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n  And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n  Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n  I mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\n  Nigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n  Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n  And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n  I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n  Put my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\n  I'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\n  I'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n  Roll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\n  Inspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\n  I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\n  I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\n  Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n  Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n  It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n  Roll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\n  Niggas, drop the top on whatever you in\n  Bitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\n  Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\n  Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n  Four doors, leather and wood\n  Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n  And I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\n  So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\n  Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\n  Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n  Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n  I gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\n  Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\n  I can not, will not ever be replaced\n  Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\n  He wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\n  You can't find your girl, she right here\n  I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n  'Sides there's way too many hoes in here\n"},{"id":27764203,"name":"too much","trackName":"too much","artistName":"The Game","albumName":"2008","duration":252.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\nWhere niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\nSo we rock it like Tracy McGrady\nSend it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\nI'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\nSo that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\nAnd it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\nFirst LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\nNigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\nI'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\nI'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\nJust number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\nNate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\nAll you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\nI'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\nOn fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\nI'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\nLike you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\nI'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\nDrugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\nToo much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\nToo many bitches in the world not to fuck\nToo much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\nAnd too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\nYou look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\nGrabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\nDon't know how much attention you pay\nYou better be ready to die, in this game\nI thought I told y'all\nI'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\nAnd I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\nGame on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\nI mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\nNigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\nNigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\nAnd I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\nI come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\nPut my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\nI'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\nI'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\nRoll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\nInspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\nI brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\nI'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\nDrugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\nToo much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\nToo many bitches in the world not to fuck\nToo much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\nAnd too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\nYou look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\nGrabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\nDon't know how much attention you pay\nYou better be ready to die, in this game\nDrive fast, both hands on the dash\nClose both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\nIt's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\nRoll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\nNiggas, drop the top on whatever you in\nBitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\nInhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\nNigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\nFour doors, leather and wood\nRide like I got a horse stable under my hood\nAnd I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\nSo if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\nWho had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\nMr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\nLong as my family straight, read this at my wake\nI gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\nTwenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\nI can not, will not ever be replaced\nCause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\nDrugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\nToo much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\nToo many bitches in the world not to fuck\nToo much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\nAnd too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\nYou look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\nGrabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\nDon't know how much attention you pay\nYou better be ready to die, in this game\nHe wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\nYou can't find your girl, she right here\nI'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n'Sides there's way too many hoes in here","syncedLyrics":"[00:10.07] I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n[00:12.82] Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\n[00:16.26] So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n[00:18.27] Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n[00:20.23] I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\n[00:22.82] So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\n[00:26.11] And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n[00:28.74] First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n[00:31.39] Nigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\n[00:33.95] I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n[00:36.48] I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n[00:38.86] Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n[00:41.30] Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n[00:44.05] All you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\n[00:46.49] I'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\n[00:48.83] On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\n[00:51.43] I'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n[00:54.08] Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n[00:56.51] I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n[00:59.43] Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[01:01.93] Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n[01:04.34] Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n[01:06.77] Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n[01:09.40] And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n[01:11.95] You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n[01:14.73] Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n[01:17.24] Don't know how much attention you pay\n[01:19.75] You better be ready to die, in this game\n[01:22.23] I thought I told y'all\n[01:22.70] I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n[01:25.00] And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n[01:27.54] Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n[01:30.35] I mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\n[01:32.64] Nigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n[01:35.16] Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n[01:37.60] And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n[01:39.88] I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n[01:42.55] Put my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\n[01:45.13] I'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\n[01:47.67] I'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n[01:50.12] Roll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\n[01:52.73] Inspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\n[01:55.25] I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\n[01:57.80] I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n[02:00.58] Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[02:03.57] Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n[02:05.55] Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n[02:07.89] Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n[02:10.55] And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n[02:13.39] You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n[02:15.80] Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n[02:18.39] Don't know how much attention you pay\n[02:20.83] You better be ready to die, in this game\n[02:23.51] Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n[02:25.82] Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n[02:28.51] It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n[02:30.90] Roll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\n[02:33.55] Niggas, drop the top on whatever you in\n[02:35.93] Bitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\n[02:38.52] Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\n[02:41.27] Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n[02:43.79] Four doors, leather and wood\n[02:46.15] Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n[02:48.68] And I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\n[02:51.27] So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\n[02:53.87] Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\n[02:56.43] Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n[02:59.06] Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n[03:01.43] I gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\n[03:04.02] Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\n[03:06.54] I can not, will not ever be replaced\n[03:09.11] Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n[03:12.02] Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[03:14.68] Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n[03:16.81] Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n[03:19.33] Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n[03:22.02] And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n[03:24.76] You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n[03:27.21] Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n[03:29.83] Don't know how much attention you pay\n[03:32.28] You better be ready to die, in this game\n[03:35.12] He wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\n[03:37.45] You can't find your girl, she right here\n[03:39.99] I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n[03:42.48] 'Sides there's way too many hoes in here","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: too much\n  artist: The Game\n  album: '2008'\n  duration_ms: 252000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n  start_ms: 10070\n  end_ms: 12820\n- text: Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\n  start_ms: 12820\n  end_ms: 16260\n- text: So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n  start_ms: 16260\n  end_ms: 18270\n- text: Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n  start_ms: 18270\n  end_ms: 20230\n- text: I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\n  start_ms: 20230\n  end_ms: 22820\n- text: So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\n  start_ms: 22820\n  end_ms: 26110\n- text: And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n  start_ms: 26110\n  end_ms: 28740\n- text: First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n  start_ms: 28740\n  end_ms: 31390\n- text: Nigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\n  start_ms: 31390\n  end_ms: 33950\n- text: I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n  start_ms: 33950\n  end_ms: 36480\n- text: I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n  start_ms: 36480\n  end_ms: 38860\n- text: Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n  start_ms: 38860\n  end_ms: 41300\n- text: Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n  start_ms: 41300\n  end_ms: 44050\n- text: All you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\n  start_ms: 44050\n  end_ms: 46490\n- text: I'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\n  start_ms: 46490\n  end_ms: 48830\n- text: On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\n  start_ms: 48830\n  end_ms: 51430\n- text: I'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n  start_ms: 51430\n  end_ms: 54080\n- text: Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n  start_ms: 54080\n  end_ms: 56510\n- text: I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 56510\n  end_ms: 59430\n- text: Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  start_ms: 59430\n  end_ms: 61930\n- text: Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  start_ms: 61930\n  end_ms: 64340\n- text: Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  start_ms: 64340\n  end_ms: 66770\n- text: Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  start_ms: 66770\n  end_ms: 69400\n- text: And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  start_ms: 69400\n  end_ms: 71950\n- text: You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  start_ms: 71950\n  end_ms: 74730\n- text: Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  start_ms: 74730\n  end_ms: 77240\n- text: Don't know how much attention you pay\n  start_ms: 77240\n  end_ms: 79750\n- text: You better be ready to die, in this game\n  start_ms: 79750\n  end_ms: 82230\n- text: I thought I told y'all\n  start_ms: 82230\n  end_ms: 82700\n- text: I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n  start_ms: 82700\n  end_ms: 85000\n- text: And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n  start_ms: 85000\n  end_ms: 87540\n- text: Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n  start_ms: 87540\n  end_ms: 90350\n- text: I mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\n  start_ms: 90350\n  end_ms: 92640\n- text: Nigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n  start_ms: 92640\n  end_ms: 95160\n- text: Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n  start_ms: 95160\n  end_ms: 97600\n- text: And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n  start_ms: 97600\n  end_ms: 99880\n- text: I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n  start_ms: 99880\n  end_ms: 102550\n- text: Put my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\n  start_ms: 102550\n  end_ms: 105130\n- text: I'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\n  start_ms: 105130\n  end_ms: 107670\n- text: I'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n  start_ms: 107670\n  end_ms: 110120\n- text: Roll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\n  start_ms: 110120\n  end_ms: 112730\n- text: Inspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\n  start_ms: 112730\n  end_ms: 115250\n- text: I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\n  start_ms: 115250\n  end_ms: 117800\n- text: I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 117800\n  end_ms: 120580\n- text: Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  start_ms: 120580\n  end_ms: 123570\n- text: Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  start_ms: 123570\n  end_ms: 125550\n- text: Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  start_ms: 125550\n  end_ms: 127890\n- text: Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  start_ms: 127890\n  end_ms: 130550\n- text: And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  start_ms: 130550\n  end_ms: 133390\n- text: You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  start_ms: 133390\n  end_ms: 135800\n- text: Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  start_ms: 135800\n  end_ms: 138390\n- text: Don't know how much attention you pay\n  start_ms: 138390\n  end_ms: 140830\n- text: You better be ready to die, in this game\n  start_ms: 140830\n  end_ms: 143510\n- text: Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n  start_ms: 143510\n  end_ms: 145820\n- text: Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n  start_ms: 145820\n  end_ms: 148510\n- text: It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n  start_ms: 148510\n  end_ms: 150900\n- text: Roll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\n  start_ms: 150900\n  end_ms: 153550\n- text: Niggas, drop the top on whatever you in\n  start_ms: 153550\n  end_ms: 155930\n- text: Bitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\n  start_ms: 155930\n  end_ms: 158520\n- text: Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\n  start_ms: 158520\n  end_ms: 161270\n- text: Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n  start_ms: 161270\n  end_ms: 163790\n- text: Four doors, leather and wood\n  start_ms: 163790\n  end_ms: 166150\n- text: Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n  start_ms: 166150\n  end_ms: 168680\n- text: And I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\n  start_ms: 168680\n  end_ms: 171270\n- text: So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\n  start_ms: 171270\n  end_ms: 173870\n- text: Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\n  start_ms: 173870\n  end_ms: 176430\n- text: Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n  start_ms: 176430\n  end_ms: 179060\n- text: Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n  start_ms: 179060\n  end_ms: 181430\n- text: I gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\n  start_ms: 181430\n  end_ms: 184020\n- text: Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\n  start_ms: 184020\n  end_ms: 186540\n- text: I can not, will not ever be replaced\n  start_ms: 186540\n  end_ms: 189110\n- text: Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 189110\n  end_ms: 192020\n- text: Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  start_ms: 192020\n  end_ms: 194680\n- text: Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  start_ms: 194680\n  end_ms: 196810\n- text: Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  start_ms: 196810\n  end_ms: 199330\n- text: Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  start_ms: 199330\n  end_ms: 202020\n- text: And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  start_ms: 202020\n  end_ms: 204760\n- text: You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  start_ms: 204760\n  end_ms: 207210\n- text: Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  start_ms: 207210\n  end_ms: 209830\n- text: Don't know how much attention you pay\n  start_ms: 209830\n  end_ms: 212280\n- text: You better be ready to die, in this game\n  start_ms: 212280\n  end_ms: 215120\n- text: He wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\n  start_ms: 215120\n  end_ms: 217450\n- text: You can't find your girl, she right here\n  start_ms: 217450\n  end_ms: 219990\n- text: I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n  start_ms: 219990\n  end_ms: 222480\n- text: '''Sides there''s way too many hoes in here'\n  start_ms: 222480\nplain: |-\n  I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n  Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\n  So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n  Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n  I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\n  So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\n  And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n  First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n  Nigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\n  I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n  I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n  Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n  Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n  All you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\n  I'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\n  On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\n  I'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n  Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n  I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  Don't know how much attention you pay\n  You better be ready to die, in this game\n  I thought I told y'all\n  I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n  And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n  Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n  I mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\n  Nigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n  Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n  And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n  I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n  Put my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\n  I'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\n  I'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n  Roll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\n  Inspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\n  I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\n  I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  Don't know how much attention you pay\n  You better be ready to die, in this game\n  Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n  Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n  It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n  Roll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\n  Niggas, drop the top on whatever you in\n  Bitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\n  Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\n  Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n  Four doors, leather and wood\n  Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n  And I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\n  So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\n  Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\n  Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n  Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n  I gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\n  Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\n  I can not, will not ever be replaced\n  Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  Don't know how much attention you pay\n  You better be ready to die, in this game\n  He wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\n  You can't find your girl, she right here\n  I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n  'Sides there's way too many hoes in here\n"},{"id":28546774,"name":"Too Much","trackName":"Too Much","artistName":"The Game","albumName":"Doctor's Advocate Instrumentals","duration":252.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\nWhere niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\nSo we rock it like Tracy McGrady\nSend it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\nI'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\nSo that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\nAnd it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\nFirst LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\nNigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\nI'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\nI'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\nJust number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\nNate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\nAll you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\nI'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\nOn fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\nI'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\nLike you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\nI'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\nDrugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\nToo much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\nToo many bitches in the world not to fuck\nToo much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\nAnd too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\nYou look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\nGrabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\nDon't know how much attention you pay\nYou better be ready to die, in this game\nI thought I told y'all\nI'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\nAnd I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\nGame on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\nI mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\nNigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\nNigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\nAnd I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\nI come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\nPut my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\nI'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\nI'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\nRoll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\nInspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\nI brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\nI'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\nDrugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\nToo much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\nToo many bitches in the world not to fuck\nToo much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\nAnd too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\nYou look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\nGrabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\nDon't know how much attention you pay\nYou better be ready to die, in this game\nDrive fast, both hands on the dash\nClose both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\nIt's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\nRoll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\nNiggas, drop the top on whatever you in\nBitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\nInhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\nNigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\nFour doors, leather and wood\nRide like I got a horse stable under my hood\nAnd I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\nSo if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\nWho had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\nMr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\nLong as my family straight, read this at my wake\nI gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\nTwenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\nI can not, will not ever be replaced\nCause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\nDrugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\nToo much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\nToo many bitches in the world not to fuck\nToo much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\nAnd too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\nYou look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\nGrabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\nDon't know how much attention you pay\nYou better be ready to die, in this game\nHe wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\nYou can't find your girl, she right here\nI'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n'Sides there's way too many hoes in here","syncedLyrics":"[00:10.07] I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n[00:12.82] Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\n[00:16.26] So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n[00:18.27] Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n[00:20.23] I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\n[00:22.82] So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\n[00:26.11] And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n[00:28.74] First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n[00:31.39] Nigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\n[00:33.95] I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n[00:36.48] I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n[00:38.86] Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n[00:41.30] Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n[00:44.05] All you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\n[00:46.49] I'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\n[00:48.83] On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\n[00:51.43] I'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n[00:54.08] Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n[00:56.51] I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n[00:59.43] Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[01:01.93] Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n[01:04.34] Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n[01:06.77] Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n[01:09.40] And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n[01:11.95] You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n[01:14.73] Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n[01:17.24] Don't know how much attention you pay\n[01:19.75] You better be ready to die, in this game\n[01:22.23] I thought I told y'all\n[01:22.70] I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n[01:25.00] And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n[01:27.54] Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n[01:30.35] I mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\n[01:32.64] Nigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n[01:35.16] Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n[01:37.60] And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n[01:39.88] I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n[01:42.55] Put my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\n[01:45.13] I'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\n[01:47.67] I'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n[01:50.12] Roll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\n[01:52.73] Inspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\n[01:55.25] I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\n[01:57.80] I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n[02:00.58] Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[02:03.57] Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n[02:05.55] Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n[02:07.89] Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n[02:10.55] And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n[02:13.39] You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n[02:15.80] Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n[02:18.39] Don't know how much attention you pay\n[02:20.83] You better be ready to die, in this game\n[02:23.51] Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n[02:25.82] Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n[02:28.51] It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n[02:30.90] Roll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\n[02:33.55] Niggas, drop the top on whatever you in\n[02:35.93] Bitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\n[02:38.52] Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\n[02:41.27] Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n[02:43.79] Four doors, leather and wood\n[02:46.15] Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n[02:48.68] And I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\n[02:51.27] So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\n[02:53.87] Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\n[02:56.43] Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n[02:59.06] Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n[03:01.43] I gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\n[03:04.02] Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\n[03:06.54] I can not, will not ever be replaced\n[03:09.11] Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n[03:12.02] Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[03:14.68] Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n[03:16.81] Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n[03:19.33] Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n[03:22.02] And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n[03:24.76] You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n[03:27.21] Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n[03:29.83] Don't know how much attention you pay\n[03:32.28] You better be ready to die, in this game\n[03:35.12] He wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\n[03:37.45] You can't find your girl, she right here\n[03:39.99] I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n[03:42.48] 'Sides there's way too many hoes in here","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Too Much\n  artist: The Game\n  album: Doctor's Advocate Instrumentals\n  duration_ms: 252000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n  start_ms: 10070\n  end_ms: 12820\n- text: Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\n  start_ms: 12820\n  end_ms: 16260\n- text: So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n  start_ms: 16260\n  end_ms: 18270\n- text: Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n  start_ms: 18270\n  end_ms: 20230\n- text: I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\n  start_ms: 20230\n  end_ms: 22820\n- text: So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\n  start_ms: 22820\n  end_ms: 26110\n- text: And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n  start_ms: 26110\n  end_ms: 28740\n- text: First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n  start_ms: 28740\n  end_ms: 31390\n- text: Nigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\n  start_ms: 31390\n  end_ms: 33950\n- text: I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n  start_ms: 33950\n  end_ms: 36480\n- text: I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n  start_ms: 36480\n  end_ms: 38860\n- text: Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n  start_ms: 38860\n  end_ms: 41300\n- text: Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n  start_ms: 41300\n  end_ms: 44050\n- text: All you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\n  start_ms: 44050\n  end_ms: 46490\n- text: I'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\n  start_ms: 46490\n  end_ms: 48830\n- text: On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\n  start_ms: 48830\n  end_ms: 51430\n- text: I'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n  start_ms: 51430\n  end_ms: 54080\n- text: Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n  start_ms: 54080\n  end_ms: 56510\n- text: I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 56510\n  end_ms: 59430\n- text: Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  start_ms: 59430\n  end_ms: 61930\n- text: Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  start_ms: 61930\n  end_ms: 64340\n- text: Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  start_ms: 64340\n  end_ms: 66770\n- text: Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  start_ms: 66770\n  end_ms: 69400\n- text: And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  start_ms: 69400\n  end_ms: 71950\n- text: You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  start_ms: 71950\n  end_ms: 74730\n- text: Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  start_ms: 74730\n  end_ms: 77240\n- text: Don't know how much attention you pay\n  start_ms: 77240\n  end_ms: 79750\n- text: You better be ready to die, in this game\n  start_ms: 79750\n  end_ms: 82230\n- text: I thought I told y'all\n  start_ms: 82230\n  end_ms: 82700\n- text: I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n  start_ms: 82700\n  end_ms: 85000\n- text: And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n  start_ms: 85000\n  end_ms: 87540\n- text: Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n  start_ms: 87540\n  end_ms: 90350\n- text: I mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\n  start_ms: 90350\n  end_ms: 92640\n- text: Nigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n  start_ms: 92640\n  end_ms: 95160\n- text: Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n  start_ms: 95160\n  end_ms: 97600\n- text: And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n  start_ms: 97600\n  end_ms: 99880\n- text: I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n  start_ms: 99880\n  end_ms: 102550\n- text: Put my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\n  start_ms: 102550\n  end_ms: 105130\n- text: I'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\n  start_ms: 105130\n  end_ms: 107670\n- text: I'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n  start_ms: 107670\n  end_ms: 110120\n- text: Roll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\n  start_ms: 110120\n  end_ms: 112730\n- text: Inspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\n  start_ms: 112730\n  end_ms: 115250\n- text: I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\n  start_ms: 115250\n  end_ms: 117800\n- text: I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 117800\n  end_ms: 120580\n- text: Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  start_ms: 120580\n  end_ms: 123570\n- text: Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  start_ms: 123570\n  end_ms: 125550\n- text: Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  start_ms: 125550\n  end_ms: 127890\n- text: Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  start_ms: 127890\n  end_ms: 130550\n- text: And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  start_ms: 130550\n  end_ms: 133390\n- text: You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  start_ms: 133390\n  end_ms: 135800\n- text: Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  start_ms: 135800\n  end_ms: 138390\n- text: Don't know how much attention you pay\n  start_ms: 138390\n  end_ms: 140830\n- text: You better be ready to die, in this game\n  start_ms: 140830\n  end_ms: 143510\n- text: Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n  start_ms: 143510\n  end_ms: 145820\n- text: Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n  start_ms: 145820\n  end_ms: 148510\n- text: It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n  start_ms: 148510\n  end_ms: 150900\n- text: Roll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\n  start_ms: 150900\n  end_ms: 153550\n- text: Niggas, drop the top on whatever you in\n  start_ms: 153550\n  end_ms: 155930\n- text: Bitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\n  start_ms: 155930\n  end_ms: 158520\n- text: Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\n  start_ms: 158520\n  end_ms: 161270\n- text: Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n  start_ms: 161270\n  end_ms: 163790\n- text: Four doors, leather and wood\n  start_ms: 163790\n  end_ms: 166150\n- text: Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n  start_ms: 166150\n  end_ms: 168680\n- text: And I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\n  start_ms: 168680\n  end_ms: 171270\n- text: So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\n  start_ms: 171270\n  end_ms: 173870\n- text: Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\n  start_ms: 173870\n  end_ms: 176430\n- text: Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n  start_ms: 176430\n  end_ms: 179060\n- text: Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n  start_ms: 179060\n  end_ms: 181430\n- text: I gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\n  start_ms: 181430\n  end_ms: 184020\n- text: Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\n  start_ms: 184020\n  end_ms: 186540\n- text: I can not, will not ever be replaced\n  start_ms: 186540\n  end_ms: 189110\n- text: Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 189110\n  end_ms: 192020\n- text: Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  start_ms: 192020\n  end_ms: 194680\n- text: Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  start_ms: 194680\n  end_ms: 196810\n- text: Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  start_ms: 196810\n  end_ms: 199330\n- text: Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  start_ms: 199330\n  end_ms: 202020\n- text: And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  start_ms: 202020\n  end_ms: 204760\n- text: You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  start_ms: 204760\n  end_ms: 207210\n- text: Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  start_ms: 207210\n  end_ms: 209830\n- text: Don't know how much attention you pay\n  start_ms: 209830\n  end_ms: 212280\n- text: You better be ready to die, in this game\n  start_ms: 212280\n  end_ms: 215120\n- text: He wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\n  start_ms: 215120\n  end_ms: 217450\n- text: You can't find your girl, she right here\n  start_ms: 217450\n  end_ms: 219990\n- text: I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n  start_ms: 219990\n  end_ms: 222480\n- text: '''Sides there''s way too many hoes in here'\n  start_ms: 222480\nplain: |-\n  I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n  Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\n  So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n  Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n  I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\n  So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\n  And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n  First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n  Nigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\n  I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n  I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n  Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n  Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n  All you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\n  I'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\n  On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\n  I'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n  Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n  I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  Don't know how much attention you pay\n  You better be ready to die, in this game\n  I thought I told y'all\n  I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n  And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n  Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n  I mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\n  Nigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n  Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n  And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n  I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n  Put my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\n  I'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\n  I'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n  Roll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\n  Inspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\n  I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\n  I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  Don't know how much attention you pay\n  You better be ready to die, in this game\n  Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n  Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n  It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n  Roll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\n  Niggas, drop the top on whatever you in\n  Bitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\n  Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\n  Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n  Four doors, leather and wood\n  Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n  And I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\n  So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\n  Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\n  Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n  Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n  I gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\n  Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\n  I can not, will not ever be replaced\n  Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  Don't know how much attention you pay\n  You better be ready to die, in this game\n  He wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\n  You can't find your girl, she right here\n  I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n  'Sides there's way too many hoes in here\n"},{"id":39933624,"name":"Too Much","trackName":"Too Much","artistName":"The Game","albumName":"Doctor's Advocate","duration":243.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\nWhere niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\nSo we rock it like Tracy McGrady\nSend it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\nI'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\nSo that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\nAnd it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\nFirst LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\nNigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\nI'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\nI'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\nJust number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\nNate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\nAll you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\nI'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\nOn fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\nI'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\nLike you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\nI'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\nDrugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\nToo much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\nToo many bitches in the world not to fuck\nToo much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\nAnd too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\nYou look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\nGrabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\nDon't know how much attention you pay\nYou better be ready to die, in this game\nI thought I told y'all\nI'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\nAnd I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\nGame on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\nI mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\nNigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\nNigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\nAnd I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\nI come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\nPut my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\nI'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\nI'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\nRoll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\nInspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\nI brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\nI'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\nDrugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\nToo much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\nToo many bitches in the world not to fuck\nToo much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\nAnd too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\nYou look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\nGrabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\nDon't know how much attention you pay\nYou better be ready to die, in this game\nDrive fast, both hands on the dash\nClose both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\nIt's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\nRoll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\nNiggas, drop the top on whatever you in\nBitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\nInhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\nNigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\nFour doors, leather and wood\nRide like I got a horse stable under my hood\nAnd I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\nSo if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\nWho had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\nMr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\nLong as my family straight, read this at my wake\nI gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\nTwenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\nI can not, will not ever be replaced\nCause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\nDrugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\nToo much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\nToo many bitches in the world not to fuck\nToo much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\nAnd too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\nYou look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\nGrabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\nDon't know how much attention you pay\nYou better be ready to die, in this game\nHe wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\nYou can't find your girl, she right here\nI'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n'Sides there's way too many hoes in here","syncedLyrics":"[00:10.07]I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n[00:12.82]Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\n[00:16.26]So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n[00:18.27]Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n[00:20.23]I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\n[00:22.82]So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\n[00:26.11]And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n[00:28.74]First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n[00:31.39]Nigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\n[00:33.95]I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n[00:36.48]I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n[00:38.86]Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n[00:41.30]Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n[00:44.05]All you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\n[00:46.49]I'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\n[00:48.83]On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\n[00:51.43]I'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n[00:54.08]Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n[00:56.51]I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n[00:59.43]Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[01:01.93]Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n[01:04.34]Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n[01:06.77]Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n[01:09.40]And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n[01:11.95]You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n[01:14.73]Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n[01:17.24]Don't know how much attention you pay\n[01:19.75]You better be ready to die, in this game\n[01:22.23]I thought I told y'all\n[01:22.70]I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n[01:25.00]And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n[01:27.54]Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n[01:30.35]I mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\n[01:32.64]Nigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n[01:35.16]Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n[01:37.60]And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n[01:39.88]I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n[01:42.55]Put my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\n[01:45.13]I'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\n[01:47.67]I'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n[01:50.12]Roll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\n[01:52.73]Inspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\n[01:55.25]I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\n[01:57.80]I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n[02:00.58]Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[02:03.57]Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n[02:05.55]Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n[02:07.89]Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n[02:10.55]And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n[02:13.39]You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n[02:15.80]Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n[02:18.39]Don't know how much attention you pay\n[02:20.83]You better be ready to die, in this game\n[02:23.51]Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n[02:25.82]Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n[02:28.51]It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n[02:30.90]Roll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\n[02:33.55]Niggas, drop the top on whatever you in\n[02:35.93]Bitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\n[02:38.52]Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\n[02:41.27]Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n[02:43.79]Four doors, leather and wood\n[02:46.15]Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n[02:48.68]And I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\n[02:51.27]So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\n[02:53.87]Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\n[02:56.43]Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n[02:59.06]Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n[03:01.43]I gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\n[03:04.02]Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\n[03:06.54]I can not, will not ever be replaced\n[03:09.11]Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n[03:12.02]Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[03:14.68]Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n[03:16.81]Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n[03:19.33]Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n[03:22.02]And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n[03:24.76]You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n[03:27.21]Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n[03:29.83]Don't know how much attention you pay\n[03:32.28]You better be ready to die, in this game\n[03:35.12]He wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\n[03:37.45]You can't find your girl, she right here\n[03:39.99]I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n[03:42.48]'Sides there's way too many hoes in here","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Too Much\n  artist: The Game\n  album: Doctor's Advocate\n  duration_ms: 243000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n  start_ms: 10070\n  end_ms: 12820\n- text: Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\n  start_ms: 12820\n  end_ms: 16260\n- text: So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n  start_ms: 16260\n  end_ms: 18270\n- text: Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n  start_ms: 18270\n  end_ms: 20230\n- text: I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\n  start_ms: 20230\n  end_ms: 22820\n- text: So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\n  start_ms: 22820\n  end_ms: 26110\n- text: And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n  start_ms: 26110\n  end_ms: 28740\n- text: First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n  start_ms: 28740\n  end_ms: 31390\n- text: Nigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\n  start_ms: 31390\n  end_ms: 33950\n- text: I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n  start_ms: 33950\n  end_ms: 36480\n- text: I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n  start_ms: 36480\n  end_ms: 38860\n- text: Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n  start_ms: 38860\n  end_ms: 41300\n- text: Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n  start_ms: 41300\n  end_ms: 44050\n- text: All you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\n  start_ms: 44050\n  end_ms: 46490\n- text: I'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\n  start_ms: 46490\n  end_ms: 48830\n- text: On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\n  start_ms: 48830\n  end_ms: 51430\n- text: I'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n  start_ms: 51430\n  end_ms: 54080\n- text: Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n  start_ms: 54080\n  end_ms: 56510\n- text: I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 56510\n  end_ms: 59430\n- text: Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  start_ms: 59430\n  end_ms: 61930\n- text: Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  start_ms: 61930\n  end_ms: 64340\n- text: Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  start_ms: 64340\n  end_ms: 66770\n- text: Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  start_ms: 66770\n  end_ms: 69400\n- text: And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  start_ms: 69400\n  end_ms: 71950\n- text: You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  start_ms: 71950\n  end_ms: 74730\n- text: Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  start_ms: 74730\n  end_ms: 77240\n- text: Don't know how much attention you pay\n  start_ms: 77240\n  end_ms: 79750\n- text: You better be ready to die, in this game\n  start_ms: 79750\n  end_ms: 82230\n- text: I thought I told y'all\n  start_ms: 82230\n  end_ms: 82700\n- text: I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n  start_ms: 82700\n  end_ms: 85000\n- text: And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n  start_ms: 85000\n  end_ms: 87540\n- text: Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n  start_ms: 87540\n  end_ms: 90350\n- text: I mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\n  start_ms: 90350\n  end_ms: 92640\n- text: Nigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n  start_ms: 92640\n  end_ms: 95160\n- text: Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n  start_ms: 95160\n  end_ms: 97600\n- text: And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n  start_ms: 97600\n  end_ms: 99880\n- text: I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n  start_ms: 99880\n  end_ms: 102550\n- text: Put my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\n  start_ms: 102550\n  end_ms: 105130\n- text: I'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\n  start_ms: 105130\n  end_ms: 107670\n- text: I'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n  start_ms: 107670\n  end_ms: 110120\n- text: Roll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\n  start_ms: 110120\n  end_ms: 112730\n- text: Inspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\n  start_ms: 112730\n  end_ms: 115250\n- text: I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\n  start_ms: 115250\n  end_ms: 117800\n- text: I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 117800\n  end_ms: 120580\n- text: Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  start_ms: 120580\n  end_ms: 123570\n- text: Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  start_ms: 123570\n  end_ms: 125550\n- text: Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  start_ms: 125550\n  end_ms: 127890\n- text: Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  start_ms: 127890\n  end_ms: 130550\n- text: And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  start_ms: 130550\n  end_ms: 133390\n- text: You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  start_ms: 133390\n  end_ms: 135800\n- text: Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  start_ms: 135800\n  end_ms: 138390\n- text: Don't know how much attention you pay\n  start_ms: 138390\n  end_ms: 140830\n- text: You better be ready to die, in this game\n  start_ms: 140830\n  end_ms: 143510\n- text: Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n  start_ms: 143510\n  end_ms: 145820\n- text: Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n  start_ms: 145820\n  end_ms: 148510\n- text: It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n  start_ms: 148510\n  end_ms: 150900\n- text: Roll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\n  start_ms: 150900\n  end_ms: 153550\n- text: Niggas, drop the top on whatever you in\n  start_ms: 153550\n  end_ms: 155930\n- text: Bitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\n  start_ms: 155930\n  end_ms: 158520\n- text: Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\n  start_ms: 158520\n  end_ms: 161270\n- text: Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n  start_ms: 161270\n  end_ms: 163790\n- text: Four doors, leather and wood\n  start_ms: 163790\n  end_ms: 166150\n- text: Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n  start_ms: 166150\n  end_ms: 168680\n- text: And I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\n  start_ms: 168680\n  end_ms: 171270\n- text: So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\n  start_ms: 171270\n  end_ms: 173870\n- text: Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\n  start_ms: 173870\n  end_ms: 176430\n- text: Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n  start_ms: 176430\n  end_ms: 179060\n- text: Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n  start_ms: 179060\n  end_ms: 181430\n- text: I gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\n  start_ms: 181430\n  end_ms: 184020\n- text: Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\n  start_ms: 184020\n  end_ms: 186540\n- text: I can not, will not ever be replaced\n  start_ms: 186540\n  end_ms: 189110\n- text: Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 189110\n  end_ms: 192020\n- text: Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  start_ms: 192020\n  end_ms: 194680\n- text: Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  start_ms: 194680\n  end_ms: 196810\n- text: Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  start_ms: 196810\n  end_ms: 199330\n- text: Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  start_ms: 199330\n  end_ms: 202020\n- text: And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  start_ms: 202020\n  end_ms: 204760\n- text: You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  start_ms: 204760\n  end_ms: 207210\n- text: Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  start_ms: 207210\n  end_ms: 209830\n- text: Don't know how much attention you pay\n  start_ms: 209830\n  end_ms: 212280\n- text: You better be ready to die, in this game\n  start_ms: 212280\n  end_ms: 215120\n- text: He wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\n  start_ms: 215120\n  end_ms: 217450\n- text: You can't find your girl, she right here\n  start_ms: 217450\n  end_ms: 219990\n- text: I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n  start_ms: 219990\n  end_ms: 222480\n- text: '''Sides there''s way too many hoes in here'\n  start_ms: 222480\nplain: |-\n  I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n  Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\n  So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n  Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n  I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\n  So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\n  And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n  First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n  Nigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\n  I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n  I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n  Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n  Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n  All you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\n  I'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\n  On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\n  I'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n  Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n  I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  Don't know how much attention you pay\n  You better be ready to die, in this game\n  I thought I told y'all\n  I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n  And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n  Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n  I mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\n  Nigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n  Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n  And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n  I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n  Put my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\n  I'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\n  I'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n  Roll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\n  Inspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\n  I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\n  I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  Don't know how much attention you pay\n  You better be ready to die, in this game\n  Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n  Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n  It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n  Roll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\n  Niggas, drop the top on whatever you in\n  Bitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\n  Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\n  Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n  Four doors, leather and wood\n  Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n  And I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\n  So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\n  Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\n  Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n  Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n  I gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\n  Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\n  I can not, will not ever be replaced\n  Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  Don't know how much attention you pay\n  You better be ready to die, in this game\n  He wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\n  You can't find your girl, she right here\n  I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n  'Sides there's way too many hoes in here\n"},{"id":38128618,"name":"Too Much (Album Version)","trackName":"Too Much (Album Version)","artistName":"The Game","albumName":"Doctor's Advocate","duration":251.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"I'm from the old hood, somethin' like your hood\nWhere *** don't know good\nOr know Suge, but the *** good\nSo we rock it like Tracy McGrady\nSend it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n\nI'm a product of my environment, grew up in the '80s\nSo that mean, me, Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy, all *** babies\nAnd it's evident my flow is heaven sent\nFirst LP on the same shelf as the veterans\n\nI can't be *** like a ***\nI'm to hip hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\nI'm a artist, never claimed to be the hardest\nJust number one since B.I.G. and 'Pac departed\n\nNate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\nAll you other *** used to be good like Ken Griffey\nI'm on fire like the tip of a ***\nOn fire like a *** that let it drip for a month\n\nI'm a *** you can *** if you want, just let it bump\nLike you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\nI'm the ice cream truck man, *** in the trunk man\n*** in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\nToo much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\nToo many *** in the world not to ***\nToo much *** in the studio not to roll it up\nAnd too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n\nYou look like you mad as *** but who cares?\nGrabbin' her by the arm 'cause she stare\nDon't know how much attention you pay\nYou better be ready to die in this game\n\nI thought I told y'all I'm done with the beef, clown\nMy son three now\nAnd I've been watchin' Dre so long, I'm makin' beats now\nGame on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\nI mean Chi-Town, *** it, it can go down\n\n*** I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n*** this the Wild Wild West, call it a showdown\nAnd I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\nI come back from the dead, tell 'em *** me again\n\nPut my head on the ***, dare a ****\nI'm gangsta, took more *** than Tookie\nI'm alive, so I'ma take a Patron shot for Tookie\nRoll a California *** and keep watchin' the movie\n\nInspired by this *** since I was two\nI brought the West Coast back, what the *** you do?\nI'm the ice cream truck man, *** in the trunk man\n*** in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\nToo much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\nToo many *** in the world not to ***\nToo much *** in the studio not to roll it up\nAnd too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n\nYou look like you mad as *** but who cares?\nGrabbin' her by the arm 'cause she stare\nDon't know how much attention you pay\nYou better be ready to die in this game\n\nDrive fast, both hands on the dash\nClose both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\nIt's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\nRoll the *** windows down, let the bass out\n\n*** drop the top on whatever in\n*** let your ponytail blow in the wind\nInhale the *** blow out dollar signs\n*** you could drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n\nFour doors, leather and wood\nRide like I got a horse stable under my hood\nAnd I keep a chrome *** under my hood\nSo if I die, *** bury me under my hood\n\nWho had the hottest *** in the game, wearin' they chain?\nMr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\nLong as my family straight, read this at my wake\nI gave 'em 'The Documentary' and they scraped the plate\n\nTwenty magazine covers, *** look at his fate\nI cannot, will not ever be replaced\n'Coz I'm the ice cream truck man, *** in the trunk man\n*** in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\nToo much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\nToo many *** in the world not to ***\nToo much *** in the studio not to roll it up\nAnd too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n\nYou look like you mad as *** but who cares?\nGrabbin' her by the arm 'cause she stare\nDon't know how much attention you pay\nYou better be ready to die in this game\n\nHe wolfin' a lot of *** he look scared\nYou can't find your girl, she right here\nI'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n'Sides there's way too many *** in here","syncedLyrics":"[00:02.41] I'm from the old hood, somethin' like your hood\n[00:13.25] Where *** don't know good\n[00:17.04] Or know Suge, but the *** good\n[00:17.88] So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n[00:18.65] Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n[00:20.49] I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the '80s\n[00:22.02] So that mean, me, Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy, all *** babies\n[00:27.68] And it's evident my flow is heaven sent\n[00:28.33] First LP on the same shelf as the veterans\n[00:29.38] I can't be *** like a ***\n[00:29.95] I'm to hip hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n[00:36.43] I'm a artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n[00:41.37] Just number one since B.I.G. and 'Pac departed\n[00:42.07] Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n[00:44.35] All you other *** used to be good like Ken Griffey\n[00:47.16] I'm on fire like the tip of a ***\n[00:48.76] On fire like a *** that let it drip for a month\n[00:50.25] I'm a *** you can *** if you want, just let it bump\n[00:54.46] Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n[00:57.52] I'm the ice cream truck man, *** in the trunk man\n[01:01.39] *** in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[01:02.13] Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n[01:04.05] Too many *** in the world not to ***\n[01:06.54] Too much *** in the studio not to roll it up\n[01:10.79] And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n[01:12.44] You look like you mad as *** but who cares?\n[01:15.22] Grabbin' her by the arm 'cause she stare\n[01:17.85] Don't know how much attention you pay\n[01:21.31] You better be ready to die in this game\n[01:22.98] I thought I told y'all I'm done with the beef, clown\n[01:24.37] My son three now\n[01:25.32] And I've been watchin' Dre so long, I'm makin' beats now\n[01:26.53] Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n[01:30.52] I mean Chi-Town, *** it, it can go down\n[01:32.21] *** I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n[01:35.09] *** this the Wild Wild West, call it a showdown\n[01:37.51] And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n[01:40.03] I come back from the dead, tell 'em *** me again\n[01:42.67] Put my head on the ***, dare a ****\n[01:44.25] I'm gangsta, took more *** than Tookie\n[01:47.52] I'm alive, so I'ma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n[01:49.72] Roll a California *** and keep watchin' the movie\n[01:53.18] Inspired by this *** since I was two\n[01:55.39] I brought the West Coast back, what the *** you do?\n[01:57.40] I'm the ice cream truck man, *** in the trunk man\n[02:02.83] *** in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[02:03.76] Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n[02:06.06] Too many *** in the world not to ***\n[02:08.19] Too much *** in the studio not to roll it up\n[02:12.32] And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n[02:15.28] You look like you mad as *** but who cares?\n[02:16.39] Grabbin' her by the arm 'cause she stare\n[02:19.06] Don't know how much attention you pay\n[02:21.43] You better be ready to die in this game\n[02:24.43] Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n[02:25.95] Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n[02:28.27] It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n[02:31.55] Roll the *** windows down, let the bass out\n[02:34.50] *** drop the top on whatever in\n[02:36.78] *** let your ponytail blow in the wind\n[02:40.03] Inhale the *** blow out dollar signs\n[02:41.76] *** you could drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n[02:43.60] Four doors, leather and wood\n[02:45.67] Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n[02:48.58] And I keep a chrome *** under my hood\n[02:50.81] So if I die, *** bury me under my hood\n[02:53.77] Who had the hottest *** in the game, wearin' they chain?\n[02:56.20] Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n[02:59.35] Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n[03:01.24] I gave 'em 'The Documentary' and they scraped the plate\n[03:05.55] Twenty magazine covers, *** look at his fate\n[03:07.87] I cannot, will not ever be replaced\n[03:09.37] 'Coz I'm the ice cream truck man, *** in the trunk man\n[03:13.34] *** in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[03:14.07] Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n[03:16.77] Too many *** in the world not to ***\n[03:19.38] Too much *** in the studio not to roll it up\n[03:24.23] And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n[03:25.73] You look like you mad as *** but who cares?\n[03:29.88] Grabbin' her by the arm 'cause she stare\n[03:30.46] Don't know how much attention you pay\n[03:33.32] You better be ready to die in this game\n[03:34.17] He wolfin' a lot of *** he look scared\n[03:37.82] You can't find your girl, she right here\n[03:39.66] I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n[03:42.50] 'Sides there's way too many *** in here\n[03:45.17] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Too Much (Album Version)\n  artist: The Game\n  album: Doctor's Advocate\n  duration_ms: 251000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: I'm from the old hood, somethin' like your hood\n  start_ms: 2410\n  end_ms: 13250\n- text: Where *** don't know good\n  start_ms: 13250\n  end_ms: 17040\n- text: Or know Suge, but the *** good\n  start_ms: 17040\n  end_ms: 17880\n- text: So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n  start_ms: 17880\n  end_ms: 18650\n- text: Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n  start_ms: 18650\n  end_ms: 20490\n- text: I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the '80s\n  start_ms: 20490\n  end_ms: 22020\n- text: So that mean, me, Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy, all *** babies\n  start_ms: 22020\n  end_ms: 27680\n- text: And it's evident my flow is heaven sent\n  start_ms: 27680\n  end_ms: 28330\n- text: First LP on the same shelf as the veterans\n  start_ms: 28330\n  end_ms: 29380\n- text: I can't be *** like a ***\n  start_ms: 29380\n  end_ms: 29950\n- text: I'm to hip hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n  start_ms: 29950\n  end_ms: 36430\n- text: I'm a artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n  start_ms: 36430\n  end_ms: 41370\n- text: Just number one since B.I.G. and 'Pac departed\n  start_ms: 41370\n  end_ms: 42070\n- text: Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n  start_ms: 42070\n  end_ms: 44350\n- text: All you other *** used to be good like Ken Griffey\n  start_ms: 44350\n  end_ms: 47160\n- text: I'm on fire like the tip of a ***\n  start_ms: 47160\n  end_ms: 48760\n- text: On fire like a *** that let it drip for a month\n  start_ms: 48760\n  end_ms: 50250\n- text: I'm a *** you can *** if you want, just let it bump\n  start_ms: 50250\n  end_ms: 54460\n- text: Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n  start_ms: 54460\n  end_ms: 57520\n- text: I'm the ice cream truck man, *** in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 57520\n  end_ms: 61390\n- text: '*** in the trunk man, call me the front man'\n  start_ms: 61390\n  end_ms: 62130\n- text: Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  start_ms: 62130\n  end_ms: 64050\n- text: Too many *** in the world not to ***\n  start_ms: 64050\n  end_ms: 66540\n- text: Too much *** in the studio not to roll it up\n  start_ms: 66540\n  end_ms: 70790\n- text: And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  start_ms: 70790\n  end_ms: 72440\n- text: You look like you mad as *** but who cares?\n  start_ms: 72440\n  end_ms: 75220\n- text: Grabbin' her by the arm 'cause she stare\n  start_ms: 75220\n  end_ms: 77850\n- text: Don't know how much attention you pay\n  start_ms: 77850\n  end_ms: 81310\n- text: You better be ready to die in this game\n  start_ms: 81310\n  end_ms: 82980\n- text: I thought I told y'all I'm done with the beef, clown\n  start_ms: 82980\n  end_ms: 84370\n- text: My son three now\n  start_ms: 84370\n  end_ms: 85320\n- text: And I've been watchin' Dre so long, I'm makin' beats now\n  start_ms: 85320\n  end_ms: 86530\n- text: Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n  start_ms: 86530\n  end_ms: 90520\n- text: I mean Chi-Town, *** it, it can go down\n  start_ms: 90520\n  end_ms: 92210\n- text: '*** I spit the whole round, fo'' plus fo'' pounds'\n  start_ms: 92210\n  end_ms: 95090\n- text: '*** this the Wild Wild West, call it a showdown'\n  start_ms: 95090\n  end_ms: 97510\n- text: And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n  start_ms: 97510\n  end_ms: 100030\n- text: I come back from the dead, tell 'em *** me again\n  start_ms: 100030\n  end_ms: 102670\n- text: Put my head on the ***, dare a ****\n  start_ms: 102670\n  end_ms: 104250\n- text: I'm gangsta, took more *** than Tookie\n  start_ms: 104250\n  end_ms: 107520\n- text: I'm alive, so I'ma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n  start_ms: 107520\n  end_ms: 109720\n- text: Roll a California *** and keep watchin' the movie\n  start_ms: 109720\n  end_ms: 113180\n- text: Inspired by this *** since I was two\n  start_ms: 113180\n  end_ms: 115390\n- text: I brought the West Coast back, what the *** you do?\n  start_ms: 115390\n  end_ms: 117400\n- text: I'm the ice cream truck man, *** in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 117400\n  end_ms: 122830\n- text: '*** in the trunk man, call me the front man'\n  start_ms: 122830\n  end_ms: 123760\n- text: Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  start_ms: 123760\n  end_ms: 126060\n- text: Too many *** in the world not to ***\n  start_ms: 126060\n  end_ms: 128190\n- text: Too much *** in the studio not to roll it up\n  start_ms: 128190\n  end_ms: 132320\n- text: And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  start_ms: 132320\n  end_ms: 135280\n- text: You look like you mad as *** but who cares?\n  start_ms: 135280\n  end_ms: 136390\n- text: Grabbin' her by the arm 'cause she stare\n  start_ms: 136390\n  end_ms: 139060\n- text: Don't know how much attention you pay\n  start_ms: 139060\n  end_ms: 141430\n- text: You better be ready to die in this game\n  start_ms: 141430\n  end_ms: 144430\n- text: Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n  start_ms: 144430\n  end_ms: 145950\n- text: Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n  start_ms: 145950\n  end_ms: 148270\n- text: It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n  start_ms: 148270\n  end_ms: 151550\n- text: Roll the *** windows down, let the bass out\n  start_ms: 151550\n  end_ms: 154500\n- text: '*** drop the top on whatever in'\n  start_ms: 154500\n  end_ms: 156780\n- text: '*** let your ponytail blow in the wind'\n  start_ms: 156780\n  end_ms: 160030\n- text: Inhale the *** blow out dollar signs\n  start_ms: 160030\n  end_ms: 161760\n- text: '*** you could drive a Bentley if only in your mind'\n  start_ms: 161760\n  end_ms: 163600\n- text: Four doors, leather and wood\n  start_ms: 163600\n  end_ms: 165670\n- text: Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n  start_ms: 165670\n  end_ms: 168580\n- text: And I keep a chrome *** under my hood\n  start_ms: 168580\n  end_ms: 170810\n- text: So if I die, *** bury me under my hood\n  start_ms: 170810\n  end_ms: 173770\n- text: Who had the hottest *** in the game, wearin' they chain?\n  start_ms: 173770\n  end_ms: 176200\n- text: Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n  start_ms: 176200\n  end_ms: 179350\n- text: Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n  start_ms: 179350\n  end_ms: 181240\n- text: I gave 'em 'The Documentary' and they scraped the plate\n  start_ms: 181240\n  end_ms: 185550\n- text: Twenty magazine covers, *** look at his fate\n  start_ms: 185550\n  end_ms: 187870\n- text: I cannot, will not ever be replaced\n  start_ms: 187870\n  end_ms: 189370\n- text: '''Coz I''m the ice cream truck man, *** in the trunk man'\n  start_ms: 189370\n  end_ms: 193340\n- text: '*** in the trunk man, call me the front man'\n  start_ms: 193340\n  end_ms: 194070\n- text: Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  start_ms: 194070\n  end_ms: 196770\n- text: Too many *** in the world not to ***\n  start_ms: 196770\n  end_ms: 199380\n- text: Too much *** in the studio not to roll it up\n  start_ms: 199380\n  end_ms: 204230\n- text: And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  start_ms: 204230\n  end_ms: 205730\n- text: You look like you mad as *** but who cares?\n  start_ms: 205730\n  end_ms: 209880\n- text: Grabbin' her by the arm 'cause she stare\n  start_ms: 209880\n  end_ms: 210460\n- text: Don't know how much attention you pay\n  start_ms: 210460\n  end_ms: 213320\n- text: You better be ready to die in this game\n  start_ms: 213320\n  end_ms: 214170\n- text: He wolfin' a lot of *** he look scared\n  start_ms: 214170\n  end_ms: 217820\n- text: You can't find your girl, she right here\n  start_ms: 217820\n  end_ms: 219660\n- text: I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n  start_ms: 219660\n  end_ms: 222500\n- text: '''Sides there''s way too many *** in here'\n  start_ms: 222500\n  end_ms: 225170\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 225170\nplain: |-\n  I'm from the old hood, somethin' like your hood\n  Where *** don't know good\n  Or know Suge, but the *** good\n  So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n  Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n\n  I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the '80s\n  So that mean, me, Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy, all *** babies\n  And it's evident my flow is heaven sent\n  First LP on the same shelf as the veterans\n\n  I can't be *** like a ***\n  I'm to hip hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n  I'm a artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n  Just number one since B.I.G. and 'Pac departed\n\n  Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n  All you other *** used to be good like Ken Griffey\n  I'm on fire like the tip of a ***\n  On fire like a *** that let it drip for a month\n\n  I'm a *** you can *** if you want, just let it bump\n  Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n  I'm the ice cream truck man, *** in the trunk man\n  *** in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\n  Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  Too many *** in the world not to ***\n  Too much *** in the studio not to roll it up\n  And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n\n  You look like you mad as *** but who cares?\n  Grabbin' her by the arm 'cause she stare\n  Don't know how much attention you pay\n  You better be ready to die in this game\n\n  I thought I told y'all I'm done with the beef, clown\n  My son three now\n  And I've been watchin' Dre so long, I'm makin' beats now\n  Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n  I mean Chi-Town, *** it, it can go down\n\n  *** I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n  *** this the Wild Wild West, call it a showdown\n  And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n  I come back from the dead, tell 'em *** me again\n\n  Put my head on the ***, dare a ****\n  I'm gangsta, took more *** than Tookie\n  I'm alive, so I'ma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n  Roll a California *** and keep watchin' the movie\n\n  Inspired by this *** since I was two\n  I brought the West Coast back, what the *** you do?\n  I'm the ice cream truck man, *** in the trunk man\n  *** in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\n  Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  Too many *** in the world not to ***\n  Too much *** in the studio not to roll it up\n  And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n\n  You look like you mad as *** but who cares?\n  Grabbin' her by the arm 'cause she stare\n  Don't know how much attention you pay\n  You better be ready to die in this game\n\n  Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n  Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n  It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n  Roll the *** windows down, let the bass out\n\n  *** drop the top on whatever in\n  *** let your ponytail blow in the wind\n  Inhale the *** blow out dollar signs\n  *** you could drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n\n  Four doors, leather and wood\n  Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n  And I keep a chrome *** under my hood\n  So if I die, *** bury me under my hood\n\n  Who had the hottest *** in the game, wearin' they chain?\n  Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n  Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n  I gave 'em 'The Documentary' and they scraped the plate\n\n  Twenty magazine covers, *** look at his fate\n  I cannot, will not ever be replaced\n  'Coz I'm the ice cream truck man, *** in the trunk man\n  *** in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\n  Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  Too many *** in the world not to ***\n  Too much *** in the studio not to roll it up\n  And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n\n  You look like you mad as *** but who cares?\n  Grabbin' her by the arm 'cause she stare\n  Don't know how much attention you pay\n  You better be ready to die in this game\n\n  He wolfin' a lot of *** he look scared\n  You can't find your girl, she right here\n  I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n  'Sides there's way too many *** in here\n"},{"id":9727982,"name":"Too Much","trackName":"Too Much","artistName":"The Game feat. Nate Dogg","albumName":"Doctor’s Advocate","duration":251.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\nWhere niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\nSo we rock it like Tracy McGrady\nSend it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\nI'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\nSo that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\nAnd it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\nFirst LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\nNigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\nI'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\nI'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\nJust number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\nNate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\nAll you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\nI'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\nOn fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\nI'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\nLike you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\nI'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\nDrugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\nToo much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\nToo many bitches in the world not to fuck\nToo much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\nAnd too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\nYou look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\nGrabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\nDon't know how much attention you pay\nYou better be ready to die, in this game\n\nI thought I told y'all\nI'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\nAnd I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\nGame on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\nI mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\nNigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\nNigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\nAnd I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\nI come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\nPut my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\nI'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\nI'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\nRoll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\nInspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\nI brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\nI'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\nDrugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\nDrive fast, both hands on the dash\nClose both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\nIt's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\nRoll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\nNiggas, drop the top on whatever you in\nBitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\nInhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\nNigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\nFour doors, leather and wood\nRide like I got a horse stable under my hood\nAnd I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\nSo if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\nWho had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\nMr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\nLong as my family straight, read this at my wake\nI gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\nTwenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\nI can not, will not ever be replaced\nCause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\nDrugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\nHe wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\nYou can't find your girl, she right here\nI'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n'Sides there's way too many hoes in here","syncedLyrics":"[00:11.22] I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n[00:14.81] Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\n[00:16.62] So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n[00:18.49] Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n[00:20.27] I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\n[00:22.95] So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\n[00:25.64] And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n[00:28.31] First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n[00:31.05] Nigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\n[00:33.70] I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n[00:36.48] I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n[00:39.26] Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n[00:41.98] Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n[00:43.74] All you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\n[00:46.48] I'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\n[00:49.12] On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\n[00:50.95] I'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n[00:54.56] Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n[00:56.31] I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n[00:59.95] Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[01:01.75] Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n[01:04.44] Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n[01:07.28] Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n[01:09.04] And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n[01:11.79] You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n[01:14.42] Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n[01:17.14] Don't know how much attention you pay\n[01:19.88] You better be ready to die, in this game\n[01:21.65] I thought I told y'all\n[01:23.43] I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n[01:25.23] And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n[01:27.18] Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n[01:29.85] I mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\n[01:32.55] Nigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n[01:35.27] Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n[01:37.92] And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n[01:39.71] I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n[01:42.41] Put my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\n[01:45.14] I'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\n[01:47.86] I'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n[01:49.62] Roll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\n[01:52.32] Inspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\n[01:55.13] I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\n[01:57.81] I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n[02:00.57] Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[02:03.22] Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n[02:25.83] Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n[02:28.53] It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n[02:31.29] Roll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\n[02:33.95] Niggas, drop the top on whatever you in\n[02:35.79] Bitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\n[02:38.44] Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\n[02:41.19] Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n[02:43.87] Four doors, leather and wood\n[02:46.58] Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n[02:48.38] And I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\n[02:51.10] So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\n[02:53.83] Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\n[02:56.57] Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n[02:59.26] Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n[03:01.96] I gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\n[03:03.71] Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\n[03:06.44] I can not, will not ever be replaced\n[03:09.12] Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n[03:11.87] Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[03:35.31] He wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\n[03:37.15] You can't find your girl, she right here\n[03:39.88] I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n[03:42.53] 'Sides there's way too many hoes in here\n[03:46.29] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Too Much\n  artist: The Game feat. Nate Dogg\n  album: Doctor’s Advocate\n  duration_ms: 251000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n  start_ms: 11220\n  end_ms: 14810\n- text: Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\n  start_ms: 14810\n  end_ms: 16620\n- text: So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n  start_ms: 16620\n  end_ms: 18490\n- text: Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n  start_ms: 18490\n  end_ms: 20270\n- text: I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\n  start_ms: 20270\n  end_ms: 22950\n- text: So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\n  start_ms: 22950\n  end_ms: 25640\n- text: And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n  start_ms: 25640\n  end_ms: 28310\n- text: First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n  start_ms: 28310\n  end_ms: 31050\n- text: Nigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\n  start_ms: 31050\n  end_ms: 33700\n- text: I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n  start_ms: 33700\n  end_ms: 36480\n- text: I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n  start_ms: 36480\n  end_ms: 39260\n- text: Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n  start_ms: 39260\n  end_ms: 41980\n- text: Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n  start_ms: 41980\n  end_ms: 43740\n- text: All you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\n  start_ms: 43740\n  end_ms: 46480\n- text: I'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\n  start_ms: 46480\n  end_ms: 49120\n- text: On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\n  start_ms: 49120\n  end_ms: 50950\n- text: I'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n  start_ms: 50950\n  end_ms: 54560\n- text: Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n  start_ms: 54560\n  end_ms: 56310\n- text: I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 56310\n  end_ms: 59950\n- text: Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  start_ms: 59950\n  end_ms: 61750\n- text: Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  start_ms: 61750\n  end_ms: 64440\n- text: Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  start_ms: 64440\n  end_ms: 67280\n- text: Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  start_ms: 67280\n  end_ms: 69040\n- text: And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  start_ms: 69040\n  end_ms: 71790\n- text: You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  start_ms: 71790\n  end_ms: 74420\n- text: Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  start_ms: 74420\n  end_ms: 77140\n- text: Don't know how much attention you pay\n  start_ms: 77140\n  end_ms: 79880\n- text: You better be ready to die, in this game\n  start_ms: 79880\n  end_ms: 81650\n- text: I thought I told y'all\n  start_ms: 81650\n  end_ms: 83430\n- text: I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n  start_ms: 83430\n  end_ms: 85230\n- text: And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n  start_ms: 85230\n  end_ms: 87180\n- text: Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n  start_ms: 87180\n  end_ms: 89850\n- text: I mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\n  start_ms: 89850\n  end_ms: 92550\n- text: Nigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n  start_ms: 92550\n  end_ms: 95270\n- text: Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n  start_ms: 95270\n  end_ms: 97920\n- text: And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n  start_ms: 97920\n  end_ms: 99710\n- text: I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n  start_ms: 99710\n  end_ms: 102410\n- text: Put my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\n  start_ms: 102410\n  end_ms: 105140\n- text: I'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\n  start_ms: 105140\n  end_ms: 107860\n- text: I'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n  start_ms: 107860\n  end_ms: 109620\n- text: Roll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\n  start_ms: 109620\n  end_ms: 112320\n- text: Inspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\n  start_ms: 112320\n  end_ms: 115130\n- text: I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\n  start_ms: 115130\n  end_ms: 117810\n- text: I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 117810\n  end_ms: 120570\n- text: Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  start_ms: 120570\n  end_ms: 123220\n- text: Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n  start_ms: 123220\n  end_ms: 145830\n- text: Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n  start_ms: 145830\n  end_ms: 148530\n- text: It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n  start_ms: 148530\n  end_ms: 151290\n- text: Roll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\n  start_ms: 151290\n  end_ms: 153950\n- text: Niggas, drop the top on whatever you in\n  start_ms: 153950\n  end_ms: 155790\n- text: Bitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\n  start_ms: 155790\n  end_ms: 158440\n- text: Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\n  start_ms: 158440\n  end_ms: 161190\n- text: Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n  start_ms: 161190\n  end_ms: 163870\n- text: Four doors, leather and wood\n  start_ms: 163870\n  end_ms: 166580\n- text: Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n  start_ms: 166580\n  end_ms: 168380\n- text: And I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\n  start_ms: 168380\n  end_ms: 171100\n- text: So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\n  start_ms: 171100\n  end_ms: 173830\n- text: Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\n  start_ms: 173830\n  end_ms: 176570\n- text: Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n  start_ms: 176570\n  end_ms: 179260\n- text: Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n  start_ms: 179260\n  end_ms: 181960\n- text: I gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\n  start_ms: 181960\n  end_ms: 183710\n- text: Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\n  start_ms: 183710\n  end_ms: 186440\n- text: I can not, will not ever be replaced\n  start_ms: 186440\n  end_ms: 189120\n- text: Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 189120\n  end_ms: 191870\n- text: Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  start_ms: 191870\n  end_ms: 215310\n- text: He wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\n  start_ms: 215310\n  end_ms: 217150\n- text: You can't find your girl, she right here\n  start_ms: 217150\n  end_ms: 219880\n- text: I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n  start_ms: 219880\n  end_ms: 222530\n- text: '''Sides there''s way too many hoes in here'\n  start_ms: 222530\n  end_ms: 226290\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 226290\nplain: |-\n  I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n  Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\n  So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n  Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n  I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\n  So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\n  And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n  First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n  Nigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\n  I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n  I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n  Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n  Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n  All you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\n  I'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\n  On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\n  I'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n  Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n  I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\n  Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  Don't know how much attention you pay\n  You better be ready to die, in this game\n\n  I thought I told y'all\n  I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n  And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n  Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n  I mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\n  Nigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n  Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n  And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n  I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n  Put my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\n  I'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\n  I'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n  Roll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\n  Inspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\n  I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\n  I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\n  Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n  Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n  It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n  Roll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\n  Niggas, drop the top on whatever you in\n  Bitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\n  Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\n  Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n  Four doors, leather and wood\n  Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n  And I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\n  So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\n  Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\n  Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n  Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n  I gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\n  Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\n  I can not, will not ever be replaced\n  Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\n  He wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\n  You can't find your girl, she right here\n  I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n  'Sides there's way too many hoes in here\n"},{"id":4695508,"name":"Too Much (Feat. Nate Dogg)","trackName":"Too Much (Feat. Nate Dogg)","artistName":"The Game","albumName":"Doctor’s Advocate","duration":251.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\nWhere niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\nSo we rock it like Tracy McGrady\nSend it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\nI'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\nSo that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\nAnd it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\nFirst LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\nNigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\nI'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\nI'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\nJust number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\nNate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\nAll you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\nI'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\nOn fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\nI'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\nLike you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\nI'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\nDrugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\nToo much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\nToo many bitches in the world not to fuck\nToo much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\nAnd too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\nYou look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\nGrabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\nDon't know how much attention you pay\nYou better be ready to die, in this game\n\nI thought I told y'all\nI'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\nAnd I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\nGame on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\nI mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\nNigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\nNigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\nAnd I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\nI come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\nPut my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\nI'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\nI'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\nRoll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\nInspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\nI brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\nI'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\nDrugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\nDrive fast, both hands on the dash\nClose both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\nIt's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\nRoll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\nNiggas, drop the top on whatever you in\nBitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\nInhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\nNigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\nFour doors, leather and wood\nRide like I got a horse stable under my hood\nAnd I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\nSo if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\nWho had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\nMr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\nLong as my family straight, read this at my wake\nI gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\nTwenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\nI can not, will not ever be replaced\nCause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\nDrugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\nHe wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\nYou can't find your girl, she right here\nI'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n'Sides there's way too many hoes in here","syncedLyrics":"[00:11.22] I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n[00:14.81] Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\n[00:16.62] So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n[00:18.49] Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n[00:20.27] I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\n[00:22.95] So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\n[00:25.64] And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n[00:28.31] First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n[00:31.05] Nigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\n[00:33.70] I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n[00:36.48] I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n[00:39.26] Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n[00:41.98] Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n[00:43.74] All you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\n[00:46.48] I'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\n[00:49.12] On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\n[00:50.95] I'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n[00:54.56] Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n[00:56.31] I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n[00:59.95] Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[01:01.75] Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n[01:04.44] Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n[01:07.28] Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n[01:09.04] And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n[01:11.79] You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n[01:14.42] Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n[01:17.14] Don't know how much attention you pay\n[01:19.88] You better be ready to die, in this game\n[01:21.65] I thought I told y'all\n[01:23.43] I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n[01:25.23] And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n[01:27.18] Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n[01:29.85] I mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\n[01:32.55] Nigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n[01:35.27] Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n[01:37.92] And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n[01:39.71] I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n[01:42.41] Put my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\n[01:45.14] I'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\n[01:47.86] I'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n[01:49.62] Roll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\n[01:52.32] Inspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\n[01:55.13] I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\n[01:57.81] I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n[02:00.57] Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[02:03.22] Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n[02:25.83] Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n[02:28.53] It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n[02:31.29] Roll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\n[02:33.95] Niggas, drop the top on whatever you in\n[02:35.79] Bitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\n[02:38.44] Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\n[02:41.19] Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n[02:43.87] Four doors, leather and wood\n[02:46.58] Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n[02:48.38] And I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\n[02:51.10] So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\n[02:53.83] Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\n[02:56.57] Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n[02:59.26] Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n[03:01.96] I gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\n[03:03.71] Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\n[03:06.44] I can not, will not ever be replaced\n[03:09.12] Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n[03:11.87] Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[03:35.31] He wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\n[03:37.15] You can't find your girl, she right here\n[03:39.88] I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n[03:42.53] 'Sides there's way too many hoes in here\n[03:46.29] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Too Much (Feat. Nate Dogg)\n  artist: The Game\n  album: Doctor’s Advocate\n  duration_ms: 251000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n  start_ms: 11220\n  end_ms: 14810\n- text: Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\n  start_ms: 14810\n  end_ms: 16620\n- text: So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n  start_ms: 16620\n  end_ms: 18490\n- text: Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n  start_ms: 18490\n  end_ms: 20270\n- text: I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\n  start_ms: 20270\n  end_ms: 22950\n- text: So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\n  start_ms: 22950\n  end_ms: 25640\n- text: And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n  start_ms: 25640\n  end_ms: 28310\n- text: First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n  start_ms: 28310\n  end_ms: 31050\n- text: Nigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\n  start_ms: 31050\n  end_ms: 33700\n- text: I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n  start_ms: 33700\n  end_ms: 36480\n- text: I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n  start_ms: 36480\n  end_ms: 39260\n- text: Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n  start_ms: 39260\n  end_ms: 41980\n- text: Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n  start_ms: 41980\n  end_ms: 43740\n- text: All you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\n  start_ms: 43740\n  end_ms: 46480\n- text: I'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\n  start_ms: 46480\n  end_ms: 49120\n- text: On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\n  start_ms: 49120\n  end_ms: 50950\n- text: I'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n  start_ms: 50950\n  end_ms: 54560\n- text: Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n  start_ms: 54560\n  end_ms: 56310\n- text: I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 56310\n  end_ms: 59950\n- text: Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  start_ms: 59950\n  end_ms: 61750\n- text: Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  start_ms: 61750\n  end_ms: 64440\n- text: Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  start_ms: 64440\n  end_ms: 67280\n- text: Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  start_ms: 67280\n  end_ms: 69040\n- text: And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  start_ms: 69040\n  end_ms: 71790\n- text: You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  start_ms: 71790\n  end_ms: 74420\n- text: Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  start_ms: 74420\n  end_ms: 77140\n- text: Don't know how much attention you pay\n  start_ms: 77140\n  end_ms: 79880\n- text: You better be ready to die, in this game\n  start_ms: 79880\n  end_ms: 81650\n- text: I thought I told y'all\n  start_ms: 81650\n  end_ms: 83430\n- text: I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n  start_ms: 83430\n  end_ms: 85230\n- text: And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n  start_ms: 85230\n  end_ms: 87180\n- text: Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n  start_ms: 87180\n  end_ms: 89850\n- text: I mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\n  start_ms: 89850\n  end_ms: 92550\n- text: Nigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n  start_ms: 92550\n  end_ms: 95270\n- text: Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n  start_ms: 95270\n  end_ms: 97920\n- text: And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n  start_ms: 97920\n  end_ms: 99710\n- text: I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n  start_ms: 99710\n  end_ms: 102410\n- text: Put my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\n  start_ms: 102410\n  end_ms: 105140\n- text: I'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\n  start_ms: 105140\n  end_ms: 107860\n- text: I'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n  start_ms: 107860\n  end_ms: 109620\n- text: Roll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\n  start_ms: 109620\n  end_ms: 112320\n- text: Inspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\n  start_ms: 112320\n  end_ms: 115130\n- text: I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\n  start_ms: 115130\n  end_ms: 117810\n- text: I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 117810\n  end_ms: 120570\n- text: Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  start_ms: 120570\n  end_ms: 123220\n- text: Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n  start_ms: 123220\n  end_ms: 145830\n- text: Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n  start_ms: 145830\n  end_ms: 148530\n- text: It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n  start_ms: 148530\n  end_ms: 151290\n- text: Roll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\n  start_ms: 151290\n  end_ms: 153950\n- text: Niggas, drop the top on whatever you in\n  start_ms: 153950\n  end_ms: 155790\n- text: Bitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\n  start_ms: 155790\n  end_ms: 158440\n- text: Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\n  start_ms: 158440\n  end_ms: 161190\n- text: Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n  start_ms: 161190\n  end_ms: 163870\n- text: Four doors, leather and wood\n  start_ms: 163870\n  end_ms: 166580\n- text: Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n  start_ms: 166580\n  end_ms: 168380\n- text: And I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\n  start_ms: 168380\n  end_ms: 171100\n- text: So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\n  start_ms: 171100\n  end_ms: 173830\n- text: Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\n  start_ms: 173830\n  end_ms: 176570\n- text: Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n  start_ms: 176570\n  end_ms: 179260\n- text: Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n  start_ms: 179260\n  end_ms: 181960\n- text: I gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\n  start_ms: 181960\n  end_ms: 183710\n- text: Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\n  start_ms: 183710\n  end_ms: 186440\n- text: I can not, will not ever be replaced\n  start_ms: 186440\n  end_ms: 189120\n- text: Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 189120\n  end_ms: 191870\n- text: Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  start_ms: 191870\n  end_ms: 215310\n- text: He wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\n  start_ms: 215310\n  end_ms: 217150\n- text: You can't find your girl, she right here\n  start_ms: 217150\n  end_ms: 219880\n- text: I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n  start_ms: 219880\n  end_ms: 222530\n- text: '''Sides there''s way too many hoes in here'\n  start_ms: 222530\n  end_ms: 226290\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 226290\nplain: |-\n  I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n  Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\n  So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n  Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n  I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\n  So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\n  And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n  First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n  Nigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\n  I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n  I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n  Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n  Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n  All you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\n  I'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\n  On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\n  I'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n  Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n  I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\n  Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  Don't know how much attention you pay\n  You better be ready to die, in this game\n\n  I thought I told y'all\n  I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n  And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n  Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n  I mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\n  Nigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n  Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n  And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n  I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n  Put my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\n  I'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\n  I'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n  Roll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\n  Inspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\n  I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\n  I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\n  Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n  Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n  It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n  Roll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\n  Niggas, drop the top on whatever you in\n  Bitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\n  Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\n  Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n  Four doors, leather and wood\n  Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n  And I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\n  So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\n  Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\n  Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n  Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n  I gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\n  Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\n  I can not, will not ever be replaced\n  Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\n  He wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\n  You can't find your girl, she right here\n  I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n  'Sides there's way too many hoes in here\n"},{"id":23023236,"name":"Too Much (feat Nate Dogg)","trackName":"Too Much (feat Nate Dogg)","artistName":"The Game","albumName":"Doctor's Advocate","duration":253.445805,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\nWhere niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\nSo we rock it like Tracy McGrady\nSend it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\nI'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\nSo that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\nAnd it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\nFirst LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\nNigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\nI'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\nI'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\nJust number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\nNate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\nAll you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\nI'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\nOn fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\nI'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\nLike you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\nI'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\nDrugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\nToo much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\nToo many bitches in the world not to fuck\nToo much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\nAnd too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\nYou look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\nGrabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\nDon't know how much attention you pay\nYou better be ready to die, in this game\n\nI thought I told y'all\nI'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\nAnd I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\nGame on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\nI mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\nNigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\nNigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\nAnd I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\nI come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\nPut my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\nI'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\nI'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\nRoll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\nInspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\nI brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\nI'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\nDrugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\nDrive fast, both hands on the dash\nClose both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\nIt's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\nRoll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\nNiggas, drop the top on whatever you in\nBitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\nInhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\nNigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\nFour doors, leather and wood\nRide like I got a horse stable under my hood\nAnd I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\nSo if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\nWho had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\nMr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\nLong as my family straight, read this at my wake\nI gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\nTwenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\nI can not, will not ever be replaced\nCause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\nDrugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\nHe wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\nYou can't find your girl, she right here\nI'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n'Sides there's way too many hoes in here","syncedLyrics":"[00:11.22] I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n[00:14.81] Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\n[00:16.62] So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n[00:18.49] Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n[00:20.27] I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\n[00:22.95] So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\n[00:25.64] And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n[00:28.31] First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n[00:31.05] Nigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\n[00:33.70] I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n[00:36.48] I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n[00:39.26] Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n[00:41.98] Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n[00:43.74] All you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\n[00:46.48] I'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\n[00:49.12] On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\n[00:50.95] I'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n[00:54.56] Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n[00:56.31] I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n[00:59.95] Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[01:01.75] Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n[01:04.44] Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n[01:07.28] Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n[01:09.04] And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n[01:11.79] You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n[01:14.42] Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n[01:17.14] Don't know how much attention you pay\n[01:19.88] You better be ready to die, in this game\n[01:21.65] I thought I told y'all\n[01:23.43] I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n[01:25.23] And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n[01:27.18] Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n[01:29.85] I mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\n[01:32.55] Nigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n[01:35.27] Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n[01:37.92] And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n[01:39.71] I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n[01:42.41] Put my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\n[01:45.14] I'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\n[01:47.86] I'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n[01:49.62] Roll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\n[01:52.32] Inspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\n[01:55.13] I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\n[01:57.81] I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n[02:00.57] Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[02:03.22] Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n[02:25.83] Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n[02:28.53] It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n[02:31.29] Roll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\n[02:33.95] Niggas, drop the top on whatever you in\n[02:35.79] Bitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\n[02:38.44] Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\n[02:41.19] Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n[02:43.87] Four doors, leather and wood\n[02:46.58] Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n[02:48.38] And I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\n[02:51.10] So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\n[02:53.83] Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\n[02:56.57] Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n[02:59.26] Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n[03:01.96] I gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\n[03:03.71] Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\n[03:06.44] I can not, will not ever be replaced\n[03:09.12] Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n[03:11.87] Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[03:35.31] He wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\n[03:37.15] You can't find your girl, she right here\n[03:39.88] I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n[03:42.53] 'Sides there's way too many hoes in here\n[03:46.29] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Too Much (feat Nate Dogg)\n  artist: The Game\n  album: Doctor's Advocate\n  duration_ms: 253446\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n  start_ms: 11220\n  end_ms: 14810\n- text: Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\n  start_ms: 14810\n  end_ms: 16620\n- text: So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n  start_ms: 16620\n  end_ms: 18490\n- text: Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n  start_ms: 18490\n  end_ms: 20270\n- text: I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\n  start_ms: 20270\n  end_ms: 22950\n- text: So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\n  start_ms: 22950\n  end_ms: 25640\n- text: And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n  start_ms: 25640\n  end_ms: 28310\n- text: First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n  start_ms: 28310\n  end_ms: 31050\n- text: Nigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\n  start_ms: 31050\n  end_ms: 33700\n- text: I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n  start_ms: 33700\n  end_ms: 36480\n- text: I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n  start_ms: 36480\n  end_ms: 39260\n- text: Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n  start_ms: 39260\n  end_ms: 41980\n- text: Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n  start_ms: 41980\n  end_ms: 43740\n- text: All you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\n  start_ms: 43740\n  end_ms: 46480\n- text: I'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\n  start_ms: 46480\n  end_ms: 49120\n- text: On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\n  start_ms: 49120\n  end_ms: 50950\n- text: I'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n  start_ms: 50950\n  end_ms: 54560\n- text: Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n  start_ms: 54560\n  end_ms: 56310\n- text: I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 56310\n  end_ms: 59950\n- text: Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  start_ms: 59950\n  end_ms: 61750\n- text: Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  start_ms: 61750\n  end_ms: 64440\n- text: Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  start_ms: 64440\n  end_ms: 67280\n- text: Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  start_ms: 67280\n  end_ms: 69040\n- text: And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  start_ms: 69040\n  end_ms: 71790\n- text: You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  start_ms: 71790\n  end_ms: 74420\n- text: Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  start_ms: 74420\n  end_ms: 77140\n- text: Don't know how much attention you pay\n  start_ms: 77140\n  end_ms: 79880\n- text: You better be ready to die, in this game\n  start_ms: 79880\n  end_ms: 81650\n- text: I thought I told y'all\n  start_ms: 81650\n  end_ms: 83430\n- text: I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n  start_ms: 83430\n  end_ms: 85230\n- text: And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n  start_ms: 85230\n  end_ms: 87180\n- text: Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n  start_ms: 87180\n  end_ms: 89850\n- text: I mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\n  start_ms: 89850\n  end_ms: 92550\n- text: Nigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n  start_ms: 92550\n  end_ms: 95270\n- text: Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n  start_ms: 95270\n  end_ms: 97920\n- text: And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n  start_ms: 97920\n  end_ms: 99710\n- text: I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n  start_ms: 99710\n  end_ms: 102410\n- text: Put my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\n  start_ms: 102410\n  end_ms: 105140\n- text: I'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\n  start_ms: 105140\n  end_ms: 107860\n- text: I'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n  start_ms: 107860\n  end_ms: 109620\n- text: Roll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\n  start_ms: 109620\n  end_ms: 112320\n- text: Inspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\n  start_ms: 112320\n  end_ms: 115130\n- text: I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\n  start_ms: 115130\n  end_ms: 117810\n- text: I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 117810\n  end_ms: 120570\n- text: Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  start_ms: 120570\n  end_ms: 123220\n- text: Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n  start_ms: 123220\n  end_ms: 145830\n- text: Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n  start_ms: 145830\n  end_ms: 148530\n- text: It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n  start_ms: 148530\n  end_ms: 151290\n- text: Roll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\n  start_ms: 151290\n  end_ms: 153950\n- text: Niggas, drop the top on whatever you in\n  start_ms: 153950\n  end_ms: 155790\n- text: Bitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\n  start_ms: 155790\n  end_ms: 158440\n- text: Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\n  start_ms: 158440\n  end_ms: 161190\n- text: Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n  start_ms: 161190\n  end_ms: 163870\n- text: Four doors, leather and wood\n  start_ms: 163870\n  end_ms: 166580\n- text: Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n  start_ms: 166580\n  end_ms: 168380\n- text: And I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\n  start_ms: 168380\n  end_ms: 171100\n- text: So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\n  start_ms: 171100\n  end_ms: 173830\n- text: Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\n  start_ms: 173830\n  end_ms: 176570\n- text: Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n  start_ms: 176570\n  end_ms: 179260\n- text: Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n  start_ms: 179260\n  end_ms: 181960\n- text: I gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\n  start_ms: 181960\n  end_ms: 183710\n- text: Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\n  start_ms: 183710\n  end_ms: 186440\n- text: I can not, will not ever be replaced\n  start_ms: 186440\n  end_ms: 189120\n- text: Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 189120\n  end_ms: 191870\n- text: Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  start_ms: 191870\n  end_ms: 215310\n- text: He wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\n  start_ms: 215310\n  end_ms: 217150\n- text: You can't find your girl, she right here\n  start_ms: 217150\n  end_ms: 219880\n- text: I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n  start_ms: 219880\n  end_ms: 222530\n- text: '''Sides there''s way too many hoes in here'\n  start_ms: 222530\n  end_ms: 226290\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 226290\nplain: |-\n  I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n  Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\n  So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n  Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n  I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\n  So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\n  And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n  First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n  Nigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\n  I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n  I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n  Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n  Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n  All you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\n  I'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\n  On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\n  I'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n  Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n  I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\n  Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  Don't know how much attention you pay\n  You better be ready to die, in this game\n\n  I thought I told y'all\n  I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n  And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n  Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n  I mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\n  Nigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n  Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n  And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n  I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n  Put my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\n  I'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\n  I'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n  Roll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\n  Inspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\n  I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\n  I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\n  Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n  Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n  It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n  Roll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\n  Niggas, drop the top on whatever you in\n  Bitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\n  Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\n  Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n  Four doors, leather and wood\n  Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n  And I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\n  So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\n  Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\n  Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n  Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n  I gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\n  Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\n  I can not, will not ever be replaced\n  Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\n  He wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\n  You can't find your girl, she right here\n  I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n  'Sides there's way too many hoes in here\n"},{"id":10703149,"name":"Too Much (Album Version (Explicit))","trackName":"Too Much (Album Version (Explicit))","artistName":"The Game","albumName":"Doctor's Advocate (Slidepac)","duration":251.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\nWhere niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\nSo we rock it like Tracy McGrady\nSend it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\nI'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\nSo that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\nAnd it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\nFirst LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\nNigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\nI'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\nI'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\nJust number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\nNate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\nAll you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\nI'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\nOn fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\nI'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\nLike you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\nI'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\nDrugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\nToo much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\nToo many bitches in the world not to fuck\nToo much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\nAnd too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\nYou look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\nGrabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\nDon't know how much attention you pay\nYou better be ready to die, in this game\n\nI thought I told y'all\nI'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\nAnd I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\nGame on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\nI mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\nNigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\nNigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\nAnd I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\nI come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\nPut my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\nI'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\nI'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\nRoll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\nInspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\nI brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\nI'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\nDrugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\nDrive fast, both hands on the dash\nClose both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\nIt's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\nRoll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\nNiggas, drop the top on whatever you in\nBitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\nInhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\nNigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\nFour doors, leather and wood\nRide like I got a horse stable under my hood\nAnd I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\nSo if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\nWho had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\nMr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\nLong as my family straight, read this at my wake\nI gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\nTwenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\nI can not, will not ever be replaced\nCause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\nDrugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\nHe wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\nYou can't find your girl, she right here\nI'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n'Sides there's way too many hoes in here","syncedLyrics":"[00:11.22] I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n[00:14.81] Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\n[00:16.62] So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n[00:18.49] Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n[00:20.27] I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\n[00:22.95] So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\n[00:25.64] And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n[00:28.31] First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n[00:31.05] Nigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\n[00:33.70] I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n[00:36.48] I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n[00:39.26] Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n[00:41.98] Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n[00:43.74] All you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\n[00:46.48] I'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\n[00:49.12] On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\n[00:50.95] I'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n[00:54.56] Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n[00:56.31] I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n[00:59.95] Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[01:01.75] Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n[01:04.44] Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n[01:07.28] Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n[01:09.04] And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n[01:11.79] You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n[01:14.42] Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n[01:17.14] Don't know how much attention you pay\n[01:19.88] You better be ready to die, in this game\n[01:21.65] I thought I told y'all\n[01:23.43] I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n[01:25.23] And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n[01:27.18] Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n[01:29.85] I mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\n[01:32.55] Nigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n[01:35.27] Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n[01:37.92] And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n[01:39.71] I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n[01:42.41] Put my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\n[01:45.14] I'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\n[01:47.86] I'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n[01:49.62] Roll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\n[01:52.32] Inspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\n[01:55.13] I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\n[01:57.81] I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n[02:00.57] Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[02:03.22] Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n[02:25.83] Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n[02:28.53] It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n[02:31.29] Roll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\n[02:33.95] Niggas, drop the top on whatever you in\n[02:35.79] Bitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\n[02:38.44] Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\n[02:41.19] Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n[02:43.87] Four doors, leather and wood\n[02:46.58] Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n[02:48.38] And I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\n[02:51.10] So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\n[02:53.83] Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\n[02:56.57] Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n[02:59.26] Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n[03:01.96] I gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\n[03:03.71] Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\n[03:06.44] I can not, will not ever be replaced\n[03:09.12] Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n[03:11.87] Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[03:35.31] He wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\n[03:37.15] You can't find your girl, she right here\n[03:39.88] I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n[03:42.53] 'Sides there's way too many hoes in here\n[03:46.29] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Too Much (Album Version (Explicit))\n  artist: The Game\n  album: Doctor's Advocate (Slidepac)\n  duration_ms: 251000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n  start_ms: 11220\n  end_ms: 14810\n- text: Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\n  start_ms: 14810\n  end_ms: 16620\n- text: So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n  start_ms: 16620\n  end_ms: 18490\n- text: Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n  start_ms: 18490\n  end_ms: 20270\n- text: I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\n  start_ms: 20270\n  end_ms: 22950\n- text: So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\n  start_ms: 22950\n  end_ms: 25640\n- text: And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n  start_ms: 25640\n  end_ms: 28310\n- text: First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n  start_ms: 28310\n  end_ms: 31050\n- text: Nigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\n  start_ms: 31050\n  end_ms: 33700\n- text: I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n  start_ms: 33700\n  end_ms: 36480\n- text: I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n  start_ms: 36480\n  end_ms: 39260\n- text: Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n  start_ms: 39260\n  end_ms: 41980\n- text: Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n  start_ms: 41980\n  end_ms: 43740\n- text: All you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\n  start_ms: 43740\n  end_ms: 46480\n- text: I'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\n  start_ms: 46480\n  end_ms: 49120\n- text: On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\n  start_ms: 49120\n  end_ms: 50950\n- text: I'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n  start_ms: 50950\n  end_ms: 54560\n- text: Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n  start_ms: 54560\n  end_ms: 56310\n- text: I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 56310\n  end_ms: 59950\n- text: Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  start_ms: 59950\n  end_ms: 61750\n- text: Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  start_ms: 61750\n  end_ms: 64440\n- text: Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  start_ms: 64440\n  end_ms: 67280\n- text: Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  start_ms: 67280\n  end_ms: 69040\n- text: And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  start_ms: 69040\n  end_ms: 71790\n- text: You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  start_ms: 71790\n  end_ms: 74420\n- text: Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  start_ms: 74420\n  end_ms: 77140\n- text: Don't know how much attention you pay\n  start_ms: 77140\n  end_ms: 79880\n- text: You better be ready to die, in this game\n  start_ms: 79880\n  end_ms: 81650\n- text: I thought I told y'all\n  start_ms: 81650\n  end_ms: 83430\n- text: I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n  start_ms: 83430\n  end_ms: 85230\n- text: And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n  start_ms: 85230\n  end_ms: 87180\n- text: Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n  start_ms: 87180\n  end_ms: 89850\n- text: I mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\n  start_ms: 89850\n  end_ms: 92550\n- text: Nigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n  start_ms: 92550\n  end_ms: 95270\n- text: Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n  start_ms: 95270\n  end_ms: 97920\n- text: And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n  start_ms: 97920\n  end_ms: 99710\n- text: I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n  start_ms: 99710\n  end_ms: 102410\n- text: Put my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\n  start_ms: 102410\n  end_ms: 105140\n- text: I'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\n  start_ms: 105140\n  end_ms: 107860\n- text: I'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n  start_ms: 107860\n  end_ms: 109620\n- text: Roll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\n  start_ms: 109620\n  end_ms: 112320\n- text: Inspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\n  start_ms: 112320\n  end_ms: 115130\n- text: I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\n  start_ms: 115130\n  end_ms: 117810\n- text: I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 117810\n  end_ms: 120570\n- text: Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  start_ms: 120570\n  end_ms: 123220\n- text: Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n  start_ms: 123220\n  end_ms: 145830\n- text: Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n  start_ms: 145830\n  end_ms: 148530\n- text: It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n  start_ms: 148530\n  end_ms: 151290\n- text: Roll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\n  start_ms: 151290\n  end_ms: 153950\n- text: Niggas, drop the top on whatever you in\n  start_ms: 153950\n  end_ms: 155790\n- text: Bitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\n  start_ms: 155790\n  end_ms: 158440\n- text: Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\n  start_ms: 158440\n  end_ms: 161190\n- text: Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n  start_ms: 161190\n  end_ms: 163870\n- text: Four doors, leather and wood\n  start_ms: 163870\n  end_ms: 166580\n- text: Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n  start_ms: 166580\n  end_ms: 168380\n- text: And I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\n  start_ms: 168380\n  end_ms: 171100\n- text: So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\n  start_ms: 171100\n  end_ms: 173830\n- text: Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\n  start_ms: 173830\n  end_ms: 176570\n- text: Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n  start_ms: 176570\n  end_ms: 179260\n- text: Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n  start_ms: 179260\n  end_ms: 181960\n- text: I gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\n  start_ms: 181960\n  end_ms: 183710\n- text: Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\n  start_ms: 183710\n  end_ms: 186440\n- text: I can not, will not ever be replaced\n  start_ms: 186440\n  end_ms: 189120\n- text: Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 189120\n  end_ms: 191870\n- text: Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  start_ms: 191870\n  end_ms: 215310\n- text: He wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\n  start_ms: 215310\n  end_ms: 217150\n- text: You can't find your girl, she right here\n  start_ms: 217150\n  end_ms: 219880\n- text: I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n  start_ms: 219880\n  end_ms: 222530\n- text: '''Sides there''s way too many hoes in here'\n  start_ms: 222530\n  end_ms: 226290\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 226290\nplain: |-\n  I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n  Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\n  So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n  Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n  I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\n  So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\n  And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n  First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n  Nigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\n  I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n  I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n  Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n  Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n  All you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\n  I'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\n  On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\n  I'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n  Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n  I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\n  Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  Don't know how much attention you pay\n  You better be ready to die, in this game\n\n  I thought I told y'all\n  I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n  And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n  Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n  I mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\n  Nigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n  Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n  And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n  I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n  Put my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\n  I'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\n  I'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n  Roll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\n  Inspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\n  I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\n  I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\n  Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n  Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n  It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n  Roll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\n  Niggas, drop the top on whatever you in\n  Bitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\n  Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\n  Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n  Four doors, leather and wood\n  Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n  And I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\n  So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\n  Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\n  Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n  Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n  I gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\n  Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\n  I can not, will not ever be replaced\n  Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\n  He wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\n  You can't find your girl, she right here\n  I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n  'Sides there's way too many hoes in here\n"},{"id":9520417,"name":"Too Much (Feat. Nate Dogg)","trackName":"Too Much (Feat. Nate Dogg)","artistName":"The Game","albumName":"Top 100 Rap Songs of All Time","duration":250.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\nWhere niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\nSo we rock it like Tracy McGrady\nSend it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\nI'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\nSo that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\nAnd it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\nFirst LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\nNigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\nI'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\nI'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\nJust number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\nNate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\nAll you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\nI'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\nOn fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\nI'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\nLike you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\nI'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\nDrugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\nToo much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\nToo many bitches in the world not to fuck\nToo much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\nAnd too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\nYou look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\nGrabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\nDon't know how much attention you pay\nYou better be ready to die, in this game\n\nI thought I told y'all\nI'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\nAnd I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\nGame on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\nI mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\nNigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\nNigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\nAnd I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\nI come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\nPut my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\nI'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\nI'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\nRoll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\nInspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\nI brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\nI'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\nDrugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\nDrive fast, both hands on the dash\nClose both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\nIt's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\nRoll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\nNiggas, drop the top on whatever you in\nBitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\nInhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\nNigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\nFour doors, leather and wood\nRide like I got a horse stable under my hood\nAnd I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\nSo if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\nWho had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\nMr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\nLong as my family straight, read this at my wake\nI gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\nTwenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\nI can not, will not ever be replaced\nCause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\nDrugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\nHe wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\nYou can't find your girl, she right here\nI'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n'Sides there's way too many hoes in here","syncedLyrics":"[00:11.22] I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n[00:14.81] Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\n[00:16.62] So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n[00:18.49] Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n[00:20.27] I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\n[00:22.95] So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\n[00:25.64] And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n[00:28.31] First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n[00:31.05] Nigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\n[00:33.70] I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n[00:36.48] I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n[00:39.26] Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n[00:41.98] Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n[00:43.74] All you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\n[00:46.48] I'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\n[00:49.12] On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\n[00:50.95] I'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n[00:54.56] Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n[00:56.31] I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n[00:59.95] Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[01:01.75] Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n[01:04.44] Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n[01:07.28] Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n[01:09.04] And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n[01:11.79] You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n[01:14.42] Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n[01:17.14] Don't know how much attention you pay\n[01:19.88] You better be ready to die, in this game\n[01:21.65] I thought I told y'all\n[01:23.43] I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n[01:25.23] And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n[01:27.18] Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n[01:29.85] I mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\n[01:32.55] Nigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n[01:35.27] Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n[01:37.92] And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n[01:39.71] I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n[01:42.41] Put my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\n[01:45.14] I'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\n[01:47.86] I'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n[01:49.62] Roll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\n[01:52.32] Inspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\n[01:55.13] I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\n[01:57.81] I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n[02:00.57] Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[02:03.22] Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n[02:25.83] Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n[02:28.53] It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n[02:31.29] Roll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\n[02:33.95] Niggas, drop the top on whatever you in\n[02:35.79] Bitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\n[02:38.44] Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\n[02:41.19] Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n[02:43.87] Four doors, leather and wood\n[02:46.58] Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n[02:48.38] And I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\n[02:51.10] So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\n[02:53.83] Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\n[02:56.57] Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n[02:59.26] Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n[03:01.96] I gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\n[03:03.71] Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\n[03:06.44] I can not, will not ever be replaced\n[03:09.12] Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n[03:11.87] Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[03:35.31] He wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\n[03:37.15] You can't find your girl, she right here\n[03:39.88] I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n[03:42.53] 'Sides there's way too many hoes in here\n[03:46.29] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Too Much (Feat. Nate Dogg)\n  artist: The Game\n  album: Top 100 Rap Songs of All Time\n  duration_ms: 250000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n  start_ms: 11220\n  end_ms: 14810\n- text: Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\n  start_ms: 14810\n  end_ms: 16620\n- text: So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n  start_ms: 16620\n  end_ms: 18490\n- text: Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n  start_ms: 18490\n  end_ms: 20270\n- text: I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\n  start_ms: 20270\n  end_ms: 22950\n- text: So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\n  start_ms: 22950\n  end_ms: 25640\n- text: And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n  start_ms: 25640\n  end_ms: 28310\n- text: First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n  start_ms: 28310\n  end_ms: 31050\n- text: Nigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\n  start_ms: 31050\n  end_ms: 33700\n- text: I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n  start_ms: 33700\n  end_ms: 36480\n- text: I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n  start_ms: 36480\n  end_ms: 39260\n- text: Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n  start_ms: 39260\n  end_ms: 41980\n- text: Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n  start_ms: 41980\n  end_ms: 43740\n- text: All you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\n  start_ms: 43740\n  end_ms: 46480\n- text: I'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\n  start_ms: 46480\n  end_ms: 49120\n- text: On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\n  start_ms: 49120\n  end_ms: 50950\n- text: I'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n  start_ms: 50950\n  end_ms: 54560\n- text: Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n  start_ms: 54560\n  end_ms: 56310\n- text: I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 56310\n  end_ms: 59950\n- text: Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  start_ms: 59950\n  end_ms: 61750\n- text: Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  start_ms: 61750\n  end_ms: 64440\n- text: Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  start_ms: 64440\n  end_ms: 67280\n- text: Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  start_ms: 67280\n  end_ms: 69040\n- text: And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  start_ms: 69040\n  end_ms: 71790\n- text: You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  start_ms: 71790\n  end_ms: 74420\n- text: Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  start_ms: 74420\n  end_ms: 77140\n- text: Don't know how much attention you pay\n  start_ms: 77140\n  end_ms: 79880\n- text: You better be ready to die, in this game\n  start_ms: 79880\n  end_ms: 81650\n- text: I thought I told y'all\n  start_ms: 81650\n  end_ms: 83430\n- text: I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n  start_ms: 83430\n  end_ms: 85230\n- text: And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n  start_ms: 85230\n  end_ms: 87180\n- text: Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n  start_ms: 87180\n  end_ms: 89850\n- text: I mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\n  start_ms: 89850\n  end_ms: 92550\n- text: Nigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n  start_ms: 92550\n  end_ms: 95270\n- text: Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n  start_ms: 95270\n  end_ms: 97920\n- text: And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n  start_ms: 97920\n  end_ms: 99710\n- text: I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n  start_ms: 99710\n  end_ms: 102410\n- text: Put my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\n  start_ms: 102410\n  end_ms: 105140\n- text: I'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\n  start_ms: 105140\n  end_ms: 107860\n- text: I'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n  start_ms: 107860\n  end_ms: 109620\n- text: Roll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\n  start_ms: 109620\n  end_ms: 112320\n- text: Inspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\n  start_ms: 112320\n  end_ms: 115130\n- text: I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\n  start_ms: 115130\n  end_ms: 117810\n- text: I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 117810\n  end_ms: 120570\n- text: Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  start_ms: 120570\n  end_ms: 123220\n- text: Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n  start_ms: 123220\n  end_ms: 145830\n- text: Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n  start_ms: 145830\n  end_ms: 148530\n- text: It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n  start_ms: 148530\n  end_ms: 151290\n- text: Roll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\n  start_ms: 151290\n  end_ms: 153950\n- text: Niggas, drop the top on whatever you in\n  start_ms: 153950\n  end_ms: 155790\n- text: Bitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\n  start_ms: 155790\n  end_ms: 158440\n- text: Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\n  start_ms: 158440\n  end_ms: 161190\n- text: Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n  start_ms: 161190\n  end_ms: 163870\n- text: Four doors, leather and wood\n  start_ms: 163870\n  end_ms: 166580\n- text: Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n  start_ms: 166580\n  end_ms: 168380\n- text: And I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\n  start_ms: 168380\n  end_ms: 171100\n- text: So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\n  start_ms: 171100\n  end_ms: 173830\n- text: Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\n  start_ms: 173830\n  end_ms: 176570\n- text: Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n  start_ms: 176570\n  end_ms: 179260\n- text: Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n  start_ms: 179260\n  end_ms: 181960\n- text: I gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\n  start_ms: 181960\n  end_ms: 183710\n- text: Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\n  start_ms: 183710\n  end_ms: 186440\n- text: I can not, will not ever be replaced\n  start_ms: 186440\n  end_ms: 189120\n- text: Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 189120\n  end_ms: 191870\n- text: Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  start_ms: 191870\n  end_ms: 215310\n- text: He wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\n  start_ms: 215310\n  end_ms: 217150\n- text: You can't find your girl, she right here\n  start_ms: 217150\n  end_ms: 219880\n- text: I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n  start_ms: 219880\n  end_ms: 222530\n- text: '''Sides there''s way too many hoes in here'\n  start_ms: 222530\n  end_ms: 226290\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 226290\nplain: |-\n  I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n  Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\n  So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n  Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n  I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\n  So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\n  And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n  First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n  Nigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\n  I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n  I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n  Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n  Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n  All you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\n  I'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\n  On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\n  I'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n  Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n  I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\n  Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  Don't know how much attention you pay\n  You better be ready to die, in this game\n\n  I thought I told y'all\n  I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n  And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n  Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n  I mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\n  Nigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n  Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n  And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n  I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n  Put my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\n  I'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\n  I'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n  Roll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\n  Inspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\n  I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\n  I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\n  Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n  Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n  It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n  Roll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\n  Niggas, drop the top on whatever you in\n  Bitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\n  Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\n  Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n  Four doors, leather and wood\n  Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n  And I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\n  So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\n  Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\n  Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n  Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n  I gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\n  Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\n  I can not, will not ever be replaced\n  Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\n  He wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\n  You can't find your girl, she right here\n  I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n  'Sides there's way too many hoes in here\n"},{"id":35530225,"name":"Too Much (Feat. Nate Dogg)","trackName":"Too Much (Feat. Nate Dogg)","artistName":"The Game","albumName":"Unknown Album","duration":251.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\nWhere niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\nSo we rock it like Tracy McGrady\nSend it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\nI'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\nSo that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\nAnd it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\nFirst LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\nNigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\nI'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\nI'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\nJust number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\nNate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\nAll you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\nI'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\nOn fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\nI'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\nLike you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\nI'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\nDrugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\nToo much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\nToo many bitches in the world not to fuck\nToo much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\nAnd too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\nYou look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\nGrabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\nDon't know how much attention you pay\nYou better be ready to die, in this game\n\nI thought I told y'all\nI'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\nAnd I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\nGame on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\nI mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\nNigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\nNigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\nAnd I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\nI come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\nPut my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\nI'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\nI'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\nRoll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\nInspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\nI brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\nI'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\nDrugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\nDrive fast, both hands on the dash\nClose both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\nIt's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\nRoll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\nNiggas, drop the top on whatever you in\nBitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\nInhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\nNigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\nFour doors, leather and wood\nRide like I got a horse stable under my hood\nAnd I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\nSo if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\nWho had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\nMr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\nLong as my family straight, read this at my wake\nI gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\nTwenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\nI can not, will not ever be replaced\nCause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\nDrugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\nHe wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\nYou can't find your girl, she right here\nI'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n'Sides there's way too many hoes in here","syncedLyrics":"[00:11.22] I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n[00:14.81] Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\n[00:16.62] So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n[00:18.49] Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n[00:20.27] I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\n[00:22.95] So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\n[00:25.64] And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n[00:28.31] First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n[00:31.05] Nigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\n[00:33.70] I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n[00:36.48] I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n[00:39.26] Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n[00:41.98] Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n[00:43.74] All you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\n[00:46.48] I'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\n[00:49.12] On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\n[00:50.95] I'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n[00:54.56] Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n[00:56.31] I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n[00:59.95] Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[01:01.75] Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n[01:04.44] Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n[01:07.28] Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n[01:09.04] And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n[01:11.79] You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n[01:14.42] Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n[01:17.14] Don't know how much attention you pay\n[01:19.88] You better be ready to die, in this game\n[01:21.65] I thought I told y'all\n[01:23.43] I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n[01:25.23] And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n[01:27.18] Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n[01:29.85] I mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\n[01:32.55] Nigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n[01:35.27] Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n[01:37.92] And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n[01:39.71] I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n[01:42.41] Put my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\n[01:45.14] I'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\n[01:47.86] I'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n[01:49.62] Roll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\n[01:52.32] Inspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\n[01:55.13] I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\n[01:57.81] I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n[02:00.57] Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[02:03.22] Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n[02:25.83] Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n[02:28.53] It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n[02:31.29] Roll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\n[02:33.95] Niggas, drop the top on whatever you in\n[02:35.79] Bitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\n[02:38.44] Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\n[02:41.19] Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n[02:43.87] Four doors, leather and wood\n[02:46.58] Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n[02:48.38] And I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\n[02:51.10] So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\n[02:53.83] Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\n[02:56.57] Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n[02:59.26] Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n[03:01.96] I gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\n[03:03.71] Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\n[03:06.44] I can not, will not ever be replaced\n[03:09.12] Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n[03:11.87] Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n[03:35.31] He wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\n[03:37.15] You can't find your girl, she right here\n[03:39.88] I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n[03:42.53] 'Sides there's way too many hoes in here\n[03:46.29] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Too Much (Feat. Nate Dogg)\n  artist: The Game\n  album: Unknown Album\n  duration_ms: 251000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n  start_ms: 11220\n  end_ms: 14810\n- text: Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\n  start_ms: 14810\n  end_ms: 16620\n- text: So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n  start_ms: 16620\n  end_ms: 18490\n- text: Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n  start_ms: 18490\n  end_ms: 20270\n- text: I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\n  start_ms: 20270\n  end_ms: 22950\n- text: So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\n  start_ms: 22950\n  end_ms: 25640\n- text: And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n  start_ms: 25640\n  end_ms: 28310\n- text: First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n  start_ms: 28310\n  end_ms: 31050\n- text: Nigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\n  start_ms: 31050\n  end_ms: 33700\n- text: I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n  start_ms: 33700\n  end_ms: 36480\n- text: I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n  start_ms: 36480\n  end_ms: 39260\n- text: Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n  start_ms: 39260\n  end_ms: 41980\n- text: Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n  start_ms: 41980\n  end_ms: 43740\n- text: All you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\n  start_ms: 43740\n  end_ms: 46480\n- text: I'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\n  start_ms: 46480\n  end_ms: 49120\n- text: On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\n  start_ms: 49120\n  end_ms: 50950\n- text: I'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n  start_ms: 50950\n  end_ms: 54560\n- text: Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n  start_ms: 54560\n  end_ms: 56310\n- text: I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 56310\n  end_ms: 59950\n- text: Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  start_ms: 59950\n  end_ms: 61750\n- text: Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  start_ms: 61750\n  end_ms: 64440\n- text: Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  start_ms: 64440\n  end_ms: 67280\n- text: Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  start_ms: 67280\n  end_ms: 69040\n- text: And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  start_ms: 69040\n  end_ms: 71790\n- text: You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  start_ms: 71790\n  end_ms: 74420\n- text: Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  start_ms: 74420\n  end_ms: 77140\n- text: Don't know how much attention you pay\n  start_ms: 77140\n  end_ms: 79880\n- text: You better be ready to die, in this game\n  start_ms: 79880\n  end_ms: 81650\n- text: I thought I told y'all\n  start_ms: 81650\n  end_ms: 83430\n- text: I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n  start_ms: 83430\n  end_ms: 85230\n- text: And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n  start_ms: 85230\n  end_ms: 87180\n- text: Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n  start_ms: 87180\n  end_ms: 89850\n- text: I mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\n  start_ms: 89850\n  end_ms: 92550\n- text: Nigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n  start_ms: 92550\n  end_ms: 95270\n- text: Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n  start_ms: 95270\n  end_ms: 97920\n- text: And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n  start_ms: 97920\n  end_ms: 99710\n- text: I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n  start_ms: 99710\n  end_ms: 102410\n- text: Put my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\n  start_ms: 102410\n  end_ms: 105140\n- text: I'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\n  start_ms: 105140\n  end_ms: 107860\n- text: I'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n  start_ms: 107860\n  end_ms: 109620\n- text: Roll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\n  start_ms: 109620\n  end_ms: 112320\n- text: Inspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\n  start_ms: 112320\n  end_ms: 115130\n- text: I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\n  start_ms: 115130\n  end_ms: 117810\n- text: I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 117810\n  end_ms: 120570\n- text: Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  start_ms: 120570\n  end_ms: 123220\n- text: Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n  start_ms: 123220\n  end_ms: 145830\n- text: Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n  start_ms: 145830\n  end_ms: 148530\n- text: It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n  start_ms: 148530\n  end_ms: 151290\n- text: Roll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\n  start_ms: 151290\n  end_ms: 153950\n- text: Niggas, drop the top on whatever you in\n  start_ms: 153950\n  end_ms: 155790\n- text: Bitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\n  start_ms: 155790\n  end_ms: 158440\n- text: Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\n  start_ms: 158440\n  end_ms: 161190\n- text: Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n  start_ms: 161190\n  end_ms: 163870\n- text: Four doors, leather and wood\n  start_ms: 163870\n  end_ms: 166580\n- text: Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n  start_ms: 166580\n  end_ms: 168380\n- text: And I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\n  start_ms: 168380\n  end_ms: 171100\n- text: So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\n  start_ms: 171100\n  end_ms: 173830\n- text: Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\n  start_ms: 173830\n  end_ms: 176570\n- text: Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n  start_ms: 176570\n  end_ms: 179260\n- text: Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n  start_ms: 179260\n  end_ms: 181960\n- text: I gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\n  start_ms: 181960\n  end_ms: 183710\n- text: Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\n  start_ms: 183710\n  end_ms: 186440\n- text: I can not, will not ever be replaced\n  start_ms: 186440\n  end_ms: 189120\n- text: Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  start_ms: 189120\n  end_ms: 191870\n- text: Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n  start_ms: 191870\n  end_ms: 215310\n- text: He wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\n  start_ms: 215310\n  end_ms: 217150\n- text: You can't find your girl, she right here\n  start_ms: 217150\n  end_ms: 219880\n- text: I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n  start_ms: 219880\n  end_ms: 222530\n- text: '''Sides there''s way too many hoes in here'\n  start_ms: 222530\n  end_ms: 226290\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 226290\nplain: |-\n  I'm from the old hood, somethin' like yo' hood\n  Where niggas don't know good, or know Suge, but the blow good\n  So we rock it like Tracy McGrady\n  Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes\n  I'm a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's\n  So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Young Jeezy all crack babies\n  And it's evident my flow is heaven-sent\n  First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans\n  Nigga I can't be fucked, like a lesbian\n  I'm to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans\n  I'm an artist, never claimed to be the hardest\n  Just number one since B.I.G. and Pac departed\n  Nate ridin' with me, Snoop ridin' with me\n  All you other niggas used to be good like Ken Griffey\n  I'm on fire like the tip of a blunt\n  On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month\n  I'm a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump\n  Like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk\n  I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\n  Too much Cris' in the club not to get drunk\n  Too many bitches in the world not to fuck\n  Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up\n  And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump\n  You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares?\n  Grabbin' her by the arm, cause she stared\n  Don't know how much attention you pay\n  You better be ready to die, in this game\n\n  I thought I told y'all\n  I'm done with the beef, clown, my son three now\n  And I've been watchin' Dre so long I'm makin' beats now\n  Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town\n  I mean Chi-Town, fuck it, it can go down\n  Nigga I spit the whole round, fo' plus fo' pounds\n  Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown\n  And I'm Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig\n  I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again\n  Put my head on a barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me\n  I'm gangsta, took more shots than Tookie\n  I'm alive, so I'mma take a Patron shot for Tookie\n  Roll a California blunt and keep watchin' a movie\n  Inspired by this gangbangin' shit since I was two\n  I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do?\n  I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\n  Drive fast, both hands on the dash\n  Close both of your eyes and hope that you don't crash\n  It's lyrical homicide, both airbags out\n  Roll the fuckin' windows down, let the bass out\n  Niggas, drop the top on whatever you in\n  Bitches, let your ponytail blow in the wind\n  Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs\n  Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind\n  Four doors, leather and wood\n  Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood\n  And I keep a chrome fo'five under my hood\n  So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood\n  Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin' they chain\n  Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane\n  Long as my family straight, read this at my wake\n  I gave 'em The Documentary and they scraped the plate\n  Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face\n  I can not, will not ever be replaced\n  Cause I'm the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man\n  Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man\n\n  He wolfin' a lot of shit, he look scared\n  You can't find your girl, she right here\n  I'm not a bad dream, I'm a nightmare\n  'Sides there's way too many hoes in here\n"},{"id":36269624,"name":"Too Much Brandy","trackName":"Too Much Brandy","artistName":"The Streets","albumName":"Baldur's Gate 3 (Original Game Soundtrack)","duration":233.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Smell of good earthy herbs makes my nerves shudder\nBut where were you that cold December\nCos we were in the Grasshopper spending guilders\nCentral Station, charged up like Scarface\nAmsterdam ain't a nice place off your face,\nWe enter the race\nWalk down, been there before, done that,\nNo joy, if you're bored, let's go see Roy,\nGet fucked up with the boys\nCalvin, Schmalvin, I'm well within my limit,\nOh hang on a minute, these mushrooms just kicked in,\nThink I might be finished\nThe ball game heads for the worse, for what it's worth\nI might just fall off the edge of the earth, brain's kind of surfing now\nWe wander down darkened pathways in a daze,\n\"Want to buy any cocaine?\", am I paranoid?\n\"Yes, you're paranoid'\"\nCharlie, darling, please save me, this is raving,\nTake me home to my baby, two bags of mushrooms,\nRoom's mushed up and I need a cradle\n\nIn its own little way,\nMy body was trying to say that you better stop drinking brandy\nIn its own little way,\nMy body was trying to say that you better stop drinking brandy\n\nNow getting to the bar's gonna be trouble\nSo the Marlons'll have to be doubles\nThen you drink doubles\nThe same speed you drink singles\nAh beautiful, the barman holds aloft the crystal glass\nAnd I'm having all that's in the bubble in the bottom of the bottle\nThen by three or four, your head's a bit mangled\nClub's full, you mingle\nYou dance the fandango\nYou sing all your favourite jingles\nFar gone on one, call me Baron Von Marlon\nOne has a monocle and cigar\nDickie-bow and long johns\nMy utility belt tells me it's to the bar Batman\nFat cans of that lager then it's straight to the dance-floor\nFor much more fancy footwork, it's adored by many amour\nDon't awe me with your little sidestep technique\nGet to the beat, loosen up, it's The Streets\n\nIn its own little way,\nMy body was trying to say that you better stop drinking brandy\nIn its own little way,\nMy body was trying to say that you better stop drinking brandy\n\nWe eat junk food, sat drunk on the tube\nEvery time the train clunks I feel like puking\nWonder whether that beautiful bird'll ring,\nThen it all goes hazy, these are the days\nWe're walking up out and back to the road, talking\nWell shouting actually, loads more drunk, by Jove,\nMind's focused, balance fucked up\nRa, ra, ra, it's all back to the Dogstar\nAnd if it's his round I'm quite partial to another Marlon at the bar\nBad idea to start again late,\nShould've given my brain a break\nTake it easy mate, you start to think you're a state,\nYou definitely are a state\n\nIn its own little way,\nMy body was trying to say that you better stop drinking brandy\nIn its own little way,\nMy body was trying to say that you better stop drinking brandy","syncedLyrics":"[00:07.50] Smell of good earthy herbs makes my nerves shudder\n[00:10.26] But where were you that cold December\n[00:12.03] Cos we were in the Grasshopper spending guilders\n[00:14.66] Central Station, charged up like Scarface\n[00:17.42] Amsterdam ain't a nice place off your face,\n[00:20.15] We enter the race\n[00:21.85] Walk down, been there before, done that,\n[00:23.98] No joy, if you're bored, let's go see Roy,\n[00:26.57] Get fucked up with the boys\n[00:29.36] Calvin, Schmalvin, I'm well within my limit,\n[00:31.97] Oh hang on a minute, these mushrooms just kicked in,\n[00:35.16] Think I might be finished\n[00:36.93] The ball game heads for the worse, for what it's worth\n[00:38.81] I might just fall off the edge of the earth, brain's kind of surfing now\n[00:43.05] We wander down darkened pathways in a daze,\n[00:47.24] \"Want to buy any cocaine?\", am I paranoid?\n[00:50.08] \"Yes, you're paranoid'\"\n[00:51.65] Charlie, darling, please save me, this is raving,\n[00:54.49] Take me home to my baby, two bags of mushrooms,\n[00:57.02] Room's mushed up and I need a cradle\n[00:58.98] In its own little way,\n[00:59.93] My body was trying to say that you better stop drinking brandy\n[01:06.09] In its own little way,\n[01:08.36] My body was trying to say that you better stop drinking brandy\n[01:13.53] Now getting to the bar's gonna be trouble\n[01:15.48] So the Marlons'll have to be doubles\n[01:17.37] Then you drink doubles\n[01:18.85] The same speed you drink singles\n[01:20.86] Ah beautiful, the barman holds aloft the crystal glass\n[01:24.56] And I'm having all that's in the bubble in the bottom of the bottle\n[01:27.95] Then by three or four, your head's a bit mangled\n[01:30.46] Club's full, you mingle\n[01:32.12] You dance the fandango\n[01:34.09] You sing all your favourite jingles\n[01:36.03] Far gone on one, call me Baron Von Marlon\n[01:38.85] One has a monocle and cigar\n[01:40.74] Dickie-bow and long johns\n[01:42.58] My utility belt tells me it's to the bar Batman\n[01:45.03] Fat cans of that lager then it's straight to the dance-floor\n[01:47.92] For much more fancy footwork, it's adored by many amour\n[01:52.64] Don't awe me with your little sidestep technique\n[01:55.70] Get to the beat, loosen up, it's The Streets\n[01:57.78] In its own little way,\n[01:59.67] My body was trying to say that you better stop drinking brandy\n[02:04.92] In its own little way,\n[02:07.63] My body was trying to say that you better stop drinking brandy\n[02:12.42] We eat junk food, sat drunk on the tube\n[02:15.51] Every time the train clunks I feel like puking\n[02:18.09] Wonder whether that beautiful bird'll ring,\n[02:20.51] Then it all goes hazy, these are the days\n[02:23.03] We're walking up out and back to the road, talking\n[02:25.37] Well shouting actually, loads more drunk, by Jove,\n[02:28.85] Mind's focused, balance fucked up\n[02:31.22] Ra, ra, ra, it's all back to the Dogstar\n[02:34.22] And if it's his round I'm quite partial to another Marlon at the bar\n[02:38.08] Bad idea to start again late,\n[02:40.59] Should've given my brain a break\n[02:42.30] Take it easy mate, you start to think you're a state,\n[02:45.43] You definitely are a state\n[02:46.46] In its own little way,\n[02:47.36] My body was trying to say that you better stop drinking brandy\n[02:52.99] In its own little way,\n[02:54.92] My body was trying to say that you better stop drinking brandy\n[03:00.48] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Too Much Brandy\n  artist: The Streets\n  album: Baldur's Gate 3 (Original Game Soundtrack)\n  duration_ms: 233000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Smell of good earthy herbs makes my nerves shudder\n  start_ms: 7500\n  end_ms: 10260\n- text: But where were you that cold December\n  start_ms: 10260\n  end_ms: 12030\n- text: Cos we were in the Grasshopper spending guilders\n  start_ms: 12030\n  end_ms: 14660\n- text: Central Station, charged up like Scarface\n  start_ms: 14660\n  end_ms: 17420\n- text: Amsterdam ain't a nice place off your face,\n  start_ms: 17420\n  end_ms: 20150\n- text: We enter the race\n  start_ms: 20150\n  end_ms: 21850\n- text: Walk down, been there before, done that,\n  start_ms: 21850\n  end_ms: 23980\n- text: No joy, if you're bored, let's go see Roy,\n  start_ms: 23980\n  end_ms: 26570\n- text: Get fucked up with the boys\n  start_ms: 26570\n  end_ms: 29360\n- text: Calvin, Schmalvin, I'm well within my limit,\n  start_ms: 29360\n  end_ms: 31970\n- text: Oh hang on a minute, these mushrooms just kicked in,\n  start_ms: 31970\n  end_ms: 35160\n- text: Think I might be finished\n  start_ms: 35160\n  end_ms: 36930\n- text: The ball game heads for the worse, for what it's worth\n  start_ms: 36930\n  end_ms: 38810\n- text: I might just fall off the edge of the earth, brain's kind of surfing now\n  start_ms: 38810\n  end_ms: 43050\n- text: We wander down darkened pathways in a daze,\n  start_ms: 43050\n  end_ms: 47240\n- text: '\"Want to buy any cocaine?\", am I paranoid?'\n  start_ms: 47240\n  end_ms: 50080\n- text: '\"Yes, you''re paranoid''\"'\n  start_ms: 50080\n  end_ms: 51650\n- text: Charlie, darling, please save me, this is raving,\n  start_ms: 51650\n  end_ms: 54490\n- text: Take me home to my baby, two bags of mushrooms,\n  start_ms: 54490\n  end_ms: 57020\n- text: Room's mushed up and I need a cradle\n  start_ms: 57020\n  end_ms: 58980\n- text: In its own little way,\n  start_ms: 58980\n  end_ms: 59930\n- text: My body was trying to say that you better stop drinking brandy\n  start_ms: 59930\n  end_ms: 66090\n- text: In its own little way,\n  start_ms: 66090\n  end_ms: 68360\n- text: My body was trying to say that you better stop drinking brandy\n  start_ms: 68360\n  end_ms: 73530\n- text: Now getting to the bar's gonna be trouble\n  start_ms: 73530\n  end_ms: 75480\n- text: So the Marlons'll have to be doubles\n  start_ms: 75480\n  end_ms: 77370\n- text: Then you drink doubles\n  start_ms: 77370\n  end_ms: 78850\n- text: The same speed you drink singles\n  start_ms: 78850\n  end_ms: 80860\n- text: Ah beautiful, the barman holds aloft the crystal glass\n  start_ms: 80860\n  end_ms: 84560\n- text: And I'm having all that's in the bubble in the bottom of the bottle\n  start_ms: 84560\n  end_ms: 87950\n- text: Then by three or four, your head's a bit mangled\n  start_ms: 87950\n  end_ms: 90460\n- text: Club's full, you mingle\n  start_ms: 90460\n  end_ms: 92120\n- text: You dance the fandango\n  start_ms: 92120\n  end_ms: 94090\n- text: You sing all your favourite jingles\n  start_ms: 94090\n  end_ms: 96030\n- text: Far gone on one, call me Baron Von Marlon\n  start_ms: 96030\n  end_ms: 98850\n- text: One has a monocle and cigar\n  start_ms: 98850\n  end_ms: 100740\n- text: Dickie-bow and long johns\n  start_ms: 100740\n  end_ms: 102580\n- text: My utility belt tells me it's to the bar Batman\n  start_ms: 102580\n  end_ms: 105030\n- text: Fat cans of that lager then it's straight to the dance-floor\n  start_ms: 105030\n  end_ms: 107920\n- text: For much more fancy footwork, it's adored by many amour\n  start_ms: 107920\n  end_ms: 112640\n- text: Don't awe me with your little sidestep technique\n  start_ms: 112640\n  end_ms: 115700\n- text: Get to the beat, loosen up, it's The Streets\n  start_ms: 115700\n  end_ms: 117780\n- text: In its own little way,\n  start_ms: 117780\n  end_ms: 119670\n- text: My body was trying to say that you better stop drinking brandy\n  start_ms: 119670\n  end_ms: 124920\n- text: In its own little way,\n  start_ms: 124920\n  end_ms: 127630\n- text: My body was trying to say that you better stop drinking brandy\n  start_ms: 127630\n  end_ms: 132420\n- text: We eat junk food, sat drunk on the tube\n  start_ms: 132420\n  end_ms: 135510\n- text: Every time the train clunks I feel like puking\n  start_ms: 135510\n  end_ms: 138090\n- text: Wonder whether that beautiful bird'll ring,\n  start_ms: 138090\n  end_ms: 140510\n- text: Then it all goes hazy, these are the days\n  start_ms: 140510\n  end_ms: 143030\n- text: We're walking up out and back to the road, talking\n  start_ms: 143030\n  end_ms: 145370\n- text: Well shouting actually, loads more drunk, by Jove,\n  start_ms: 145370\n  end_ms: 148850\n- text: Mind's focused, balance fucked up\n  start_ms: 148850\n  end_ms: 151220\n- text: Ra, ra, ra, it's all back to the Dogstar\n  start_ms: 151220\n  end_ms: 154220\n- text: And if it's his round I'm quite partial to another Marlon at the bar\n  start_ms: 154220\n  end_ms: 158080\n- text: Bad idea to start again late,\n  start_ms: 158080\n  end_ms: 160590\n- text: Should've given my brain a break\n  start_ms: 160590\n  end_ms: 162300\n- text: Take it easy mate, you start to think you're a state,\n  start_ms: 162300\n  end_ms: 165430\n- text: You definitely are a state\n  start_ms: 165430\n  end_ms: 166460\n- text: In its own little way,\n  start_ms: 166460\n  end_ms: 167360\n- text: My body was trying to say that you better stop drinking brandy\n  start_ms: 167360\n  end_ms: 172990\n- text: In its own little way,\n  start_ms: 172990\n  end_ms: 174920\n- text: My body was trying to say that you better stop drinking brandy\n  start_ms: 174920\n  end_ms: 180480\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 180480\nplain: |-\n  Smell of good earthy herbs makes my nerves shudder\n  But where were you that cold December\n  Cos we were in the Grasshopper spending guilders\n  Central Station, charged up like Scarface\n  Amsterdam ain't a nice place off your face,\n  We enter the race\n  Walk down, been there before, done that,\n  No joy, if you're bored, let's go see Roy,\n  Get fucked up with the boys\n  Calvin, Schmalvin, I'm well within my limit,\n  Oh hang on a minute, these mushrooms just kicked in,\n  Think I might be finished\n  The ball game heads for the worse, for what it's worth\n  I might just fall off the edge of the earth, brain's kind of surfing now\n  We wander down darkened pathways in a daze,\n  \"Want to buy any cocaine?\", am I paranoid?\n  \"Yes, you're paranoid'\"\n  Charlie, darling, please save me, this is raving,\n  Take me home to my baby, two bags of mushrooms,\n  Room's mushed up and I need a cradle\n\n  In its own little way,\n  My body was trying to say that you better stop drinking brandy\n  In its own little way,\n  My body was trying to say that you better stop drinking brandy\n\n  Now getting to the bar's gonna be trouble\n  So the Marlons'll have to be doubles\n  Then you drink doubles\n  The same speed you drink singles\n  Ah beautiful, the barman holds aloft the crystal glass\n  And I'm having all that's in the bubble in the bottom of the bottle\n  Then by three or four, your head's a bit mangled\n  Club's full, you mingle\n  You dance the fandango\n  You sing all your favourite jingles\n  Far gone on one, call me Baron Von Marlon\n  One has a monocle and cigar\n  Dickie-bow and long johns\n  My utility belt tells me it's to the bar Batman\n  Fat cans of that lager then it's straight to the dance-floor\n  For much more fancy footwork, it's adored by many amour\n  Don't awe me with your little sidestep technique\n  Get to the beat, loosen up, it's The Streets\n\n  In its own little way,\n  My body was trying to say that you better stop drinking brandy\n  In its own little way,\n  My body was trying to say that you better stop drinking brandy\n\n  We eat junk food, sat drunk on the tube\n  Every time the train clunks I feel like puking\n  Wonder whether that beautiful bird'll ring,\n  Then it all goes hazy, these are the days\n  We're walking up out and back to the road, talking\n  Well shouting actually, loads more drunk, by Jove,\n  Mind's focused, balance fucked up\n  Ra, ra, ra, it's all back to the Dogstar\n  And if it's his round I'm quite partial to another Marlon at the bar\n  Bad idea to start again late,\n  Should've given my brain a break\n  Take it easy mate, you start to think you're a state,\n  You definitely are a state\n\n  In its own little way,\n  My body was trying to say that you better stop drinking brandy\n  In its own little way,\n  My body was trying to say that you better stop drinking brandy\n"},{"id":36759466,"name":"Too Much Tequila","trackName":"Too Much Tequila","artistName":"The Champs","albumName":"Baldur's Gate 3 (Original Game Soundtrack)","duration":233.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"I was at the bar with my drinkin team,\nIt was me Jack Daniels and my homey Jim Bean.\nWe were kinda blitzed and we were trying to behave Y'all\nwhen in walked a soldier he was from the fuzzy naval.\nWe were fallin, stumblin, crawlin\nher come da police, Captain Tom Collins,\nand the rapper said freeze\nhe said \"hands in the air and hand over your keys\"\nnow we did, and that was kinda simple,\nnow here came Marguarita and her friend Shirley Temple.\nI asked my friend 'bout Marguarita,\nhe said Shirley was a virgin an I wouldn't wanna meet her.\nSo I talked to Marguarita, cause yoh, she was flyer.\nI took her to the coast cause I wanted to Screw Driver.\nNow Im not one for a speech,\nbut there was plenty of Tequila and Sex On The Beach, Y'all.\n\nTequila\nTe-Te-Te - Tequila\nTequila\n\nHere we go again and Im not fussin,\nsee I'm a French Mexican but I can get with White Russians,\nat the bar with a drink in my hand.\nIn walked Jose Cuervo what was marguaritas man.\nI talked to the wise man cause, yoh he's distinguished.\nHis name was St. Ives and he spoke in old english.\nHe said \"you'd better think fast,\ncause Jose is kinda crazy and I heard he Shot Glass\".\nHe gave me some advice and it went like this:\n\"catch the night train and head up to 'cisco\"\nI didn't wanna stick around,\nI caught the 1: 51 to New York, the Grey Hound.\nNow I'm at the Red Zone, everybody's stylin'.\nWas sippin Ice Teas on Long Island.\nI blacked out and the party came to a halt,\ncause I was drinking the Tequila with the lemon assault Y'all\n\nTequila\nTe-Te-Te - Tequila\nTequila\n\nI woke up in the morning and felt like a Zombie,\nthe Tequila Gold Label had bombed me.\nYou see I woke up late and wasn't feelin' so great,\nAnd Mike said there's a Bicardi party startin' at eight.\nYo we walked in the party and started playin our games,\nwe played tops, fuzzy quarters, with Bartles & James.\nHere came Shirley Temple and they told me to chill,\nbecause the Mickey Brothers took her up to strawberry hill.\nThey took her $1000 mink and she could barely think,\ncause the Tequila that she drank had her tickled pink.\nNow the music came on and I rocked the instrumental.\nThere's a groupie named Mai Tai, a fly oriental.\nA groupie is a girl that jocks,\nShe wore the def Black Velvet and drank Scotch on the Rocks.\nWe had a fake marriage, now here's to honeymoon,\nYa zone vagabond and the Blue Lagoon.\nNow everybody take a word from the wise,\nA girly and a bottle, Tequila Sunrise.\n\nTequila\nTe-Te-Te - Tequila\nTequila\nTequila\nTe-Te-Te - Tequila\nTequila","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Too Much Tequila\n  artist: The Champs\n  album: Baldur's Gate 3 (Original Game Soundtrack)\n  duration_ms: 233000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  I was at the bar with my drinkin team,\n  It was me Jack Daniels and my homey Jim Bean.\n  We were kinda blitzed and we were trying to behave Y'all\n  when in walked a soldier he was from the fuzzy naval.\n  We were fallin, stumblin, crawlin\n  her come da police, Captain Tom Collins,\n  and the rapper said freeze\n  he said \"hands in the air and hand over your keys\"\n  now we did, and that was kinda simple,\n  now here came Marguarita and her friend Shirley Temple.\n  I asked my friend 'bout Marguarita,\n  he said Shirley was a virgin an I wouldn't wanna meet her.\n  So I talked to Marguarita, cause yoh, she was flyer.\n  I took her to the coast cause I wanted to Screw Driver.\n  Now Im not one for a speech,\n  but there was plenty of Tequila and Sex On The Beach, Y'all.\n\n  Tequila\n  Te-Te-Te - Tequila\n  Tequila\n\n  Here we go again and Im not fussin,\n  see I'm a French Mexican but I can get with White Russians,\n  at the bar with a drink in my hand.\n  In walked Jose Cuervo what was marguaritas man.\n  I talked to the wise man cause, yoh he's distinguished.\n  His name was St. Ives and he spoke in old english.\n  He said \"you'd better think fast,\n  cause Jose is kinda crazy and I heard he Shot Glass\".\n  He gave me some advice and it went like this:\n  \"catch the night train and head up to 'cisco\"\n  I didn't wanna stick around,\n  I caught the 1: 51 to New York, the Grey Hound.\n  Now I'm at the Red Zone, everybody's stylin'.\n  Was sippin Ice Teas on Long Island.\n  I blacked out and the party came to a halt,\n  cause I was drinking the Tequila with the lemon assault Y'all\n\n  Tequila\n  Te-Te-Te - Tequila\n  Tequila\n\n  I woke up in the morning and felt like a Zombie,\n  the Tequila Gold Label had bombed me.\n  You see I woke up late and wasn't feelin' so great,\n  And Mike said there's a Bicardi party startin' at eight.\n  Yo we walked in the party and started playin our games,\n  we played tops, fuzzy quarters, with Bartles & James.\n  Here came Shirley Temple and they told me to chill,\n  because the Mickey Brothers took her up to strawberry hill.\n  They took her $1000 mink and she could barely think,\n  cause the Tequila that she drank had her tickled pink.\n  Now the music came on and I rocked the instrumental.\n  There's a groupie named Mai Tai, a fly oriental.\n  A groupie is a girl that jocks,\n  She wore the def Black Velvet and drank Scotch on the Rocks.\n  We had a fake marriage, now here's to honeymoon,\n  Ya zone vagabond and the Blue Lagoon.\n  Now everybody take a word from the wise,\n  A girly and a bottle, Tequila Sunrise.\n\n  Tequila\n  Te-Te-Te - Tequila\n  Tequila\n  Tequila\n  Te-Te-Te - Tequila\n  Tequila\n"},{"id":11115717,"name":"Eight Is Too Much","trackName":"Eight Is Too Much","artistName":"Simpsons, The","albumName":"The Simpsons Hit & Run (Original Game Soundtrack)","duration":178.0,"instrumental":true,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":null,"syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Eight Is Too Much\n  artist: Simpsons, The\n  album: The Simpsons Hit & Run (Original Game Soundtrack)\n  duration_ms: 178000\n  instrumental: true\nlines: []\n"}]