[{"id":37750808,"name":"Live by the Gun (Instrumental)","trackName":"Live by the Gun (Instrumental)","artistName":"Tragedy Khadafi","albumName":"Bing Monsters bw Live by the Gun 12\"","duration":221.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Life's a bitch, we open her up like C-sections\nPour liquor on the asphalt for my dogs restin'\nIt's foul sport, you get iced with the Wesson\nPay attention, my nigga, learn a lesson\nRule one, never pull out guns and don't bust 'em\nYour dog can't look you in the eye, don't trust 'em\nBe them same niggas that'll split you like Dutches\nTry to flame niggas once they get you in they clutches\nYou talk like a gangsta, walk like a gangsta\nWatch for them haters, they tryin' to get your paper\nThe streets is a foul thing, a wild thing\nOnce unlocked the Sing Sing, you's love to sing\nHow you a thug nigga and you scared of the bing?\nI'ma tell y'all niggas one thing (Ya heard me?)\nYou was hot 'til we dropped and reduced your fever\nHeir to this thug shit like Julius Caesar, nigga\n\nAll my convicts, felony thugs forever on the run\nLive by the gun, die by the gun\nWe eat food, snatch plates, whatever drama come\nLive by the gun, die by the gun\nWhen it jump off, make it pop, you be the only one\nLive by the gun, die by the gun\nIn this game of life, play hard, you only got one\nLive by the gun, die by the gun\n\nEvery man bleed like I do, so why fear you?\nThat bullshit you throwin' at me, I can't hear you\nBut what I throw back, somethin' that you can feel\nTeflon emerge in steel, this shit is real\nI'm fishscale, verbally ill, no cut\nHip-hop nearly lost its form until I struck\nBeen rappin' since crack was packed in tall capsules\nNow I rock platinum chains and ice statues\nGuerilla gat, combat rap, shit'll blast you\nI cock back and squeeze, what you fools gon' do?\nJust a copy of Mahdi, graft like Yakub\nMy niggas on 162, make it pop\nPR savage, Lincoln Hall and Comstock\nA flock of birds, stash crib soon as you touch ground\nYou know my homies gotta live, yo, burn it down\nYou know my homies gotta live, yo, burn it down\n\nAll my convicts, felony thugs forever on the run\nLive by the gun, die by the gun\nWe eat food, snatch plates, whatever drama come\nLive by the gun, die by the gun\nWhen it jump off, make it pop, you be the only one\nLive by the gun, die by the gun\nIn this game of life, play hard, you only got one\nLive by the gun, die by the gun\n\nYou could end up dead or some vegetables\nWhile we escape with the extraterrestrials\nTwo-five embassy, now who next to lose?\nMahdi, Kadafi, your highness, the Wu\nCarnivorous thug, digest your food\nIt's like the Art of War Volume 2\nUnderworld shit, duct tape, kidnap rap, clap your girl shit\nYou got trees? Then twirl it, my niggas hurl with\nIceberg velour suits and suede moccasins\nAir niggas out, deprive them of they oxygen\nThe most raps blow the world off its axis\nIgnite like matches, burnin' the illest rappers\nIn Morocco in the drop with the top low\nMe against the world, still I can't be stopped though\nMy hoes like to ride on top and rock slow\nI flame throw, my chain glow like a rainbow\n\nAll my convicts, felony thugs forever on the run\nLive by the gun, die by the gun\nWe eat food, snatch plates, whatever drama come\nLive by the gun, die by the gun\nWhen it jump off, make it pop, you be the only one\nLive by the gun, die by the gun\nIn this game of life, play hard, you only got one\nLive by the gun, die by the gun","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Live by the Gun (Instrumental)\n  artist: Tragedy Khadafi\n  album: Bing Monsters bw Live by the Gun 12\"\n  duration_ms: 221000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Life's a bitch, we open her up like C-sections\n  Pour liquor on the asphalt for my dogs restin'\n  It's foul sport, you get iced with the Wesson\n  Pay attention, my nigga, learn a lesson\n  Rule one, never pull out guns and don't bust 'em\n  Your dog can't look you in the eye, don't trust 'em\n  Be them same niggas that'll split you like Dutches\n  Try to flame niggas once they get you in they clutches\n  You talk like a gangsta, walk like a gangsta\n  Watch for them haters, they tryin' to get your paper\n  The streets is a foul thing, a wild thing\n  Once unlocked the Sing Sing, you's love to sing\n  How you a thug nigga and you scared of the bing?\n  I'ma tell y'all niggas one thing (Ya heard me?)\n  You was hot 'til we dropped and reduced your fever\n  Heir to this thug shit like Julius Caesar, nigga\n\n  All my convicts, felony thugs forever on the run\n  Live by the gun, die by the gun\n  We eat food, snatch plates, whatever drama come\n  Live by the gun, die by the gun\n  When it jump off, make it pop, you be the only one\n  Live by the gun, die by the gun\n  In this game of life, play hard, you only got one\n  Live by the gun, die by the gun\n\n  Every man bleed like I do, so why fear you?\n  That bullshit you throwin' at me, I can't hear you\n  But what I throw back, somethin' that you can feel\n  Teflon emerge in steel, this shit is real\n  I'm fishscale, verbally ill, no cut\n  Hip-hop nearly lost its form until I struck\n  Been rappin' since crack was packed in tall capsules\n  Now I rock platinum chains and ice statues\n  Guerilla gat, combat rap, shit'll blast you\n  I cock back and squeeze, what you fools gon' do?\n  Just a copy of Mahdi, graft like Yakub\n  My niggas on 162, make it pop\n  PR savage, Lincoln Hall and Comstock\n  A flock of birds, stash crib soon as you touch ground\n  You know my homies gotta live, yo, burn it down\n  You know my homies gotta live, yo, burn it down\n\n  All my convicts, felony thugs forever on the run\n  Live by the gun, die by the gun\n  We eat food, snatch plates, whatever drama come\n  Live by the gun, die by the gun\n  When it jump off, make it pop, you be the only one\n  Live by the gun, die by the gun\n  In this game of life, play hard, you only got one\n  Live by the gun, die by the gun\n\n  You could end up dead or some vegetables\n  While we escape with the extraterrestrials\n  Two-five embassy, now who next to lose?\n  Mahdi, Kadafi, your highness, the Wu\n  Carnivorous thug, digest your food\n  It's like the Art of War Volume 2\n  Underworld shit, duct tape, kidnap rap, clap your girl shit\n  You got trees? Then twirl it, my niggas hurl with\n  Iceberg velour suits and suede moccasins\n  Air niggas out, deprive them of they oxygen\n  The most raps blow the world off its axis\n  Ignite like matches, burnin' the illest rappers\n  In Morocco in the drop with the top low\n  Me against the world, still I can't be stopped though\n  My hoes like to ride on top and rock slow\n  I flame throw, my chain glow like a rainbow\n\n  All my convicts, felony thugs forever on the run\n  Live by the gun, die by the gun\n  We eat food, snatch plates, whatever drama come\n  Live by the gun, die by the gun\n  When it jump off, make it pop, you be the only one\n  Live by the gun, die by the gun\n  In this game of life, play hard, you only got one\n  Live by the gun, die by the gun\n"},{"id":20695927,"name":"Live By The Gun","trackName":"Live By The Gun","artistName":"Tragedy Khadafi","albumName":"Cornerstone Mixtape #16","duration":114.703708,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Tragedy Khadafi!\nThe Foul Mahdi!\n\nLife's a bitch - we open her up like C-sections\nPour liquor on the asphalt for my dogs restin'\nIt's foul sport - you get iced with the Wesson\nPay attention - my nigga, learn a lesson\nRule one: never pull out guns and don't bust 'em\nYour dog can't look you in the eye, don't trust 'im\nBe the same niggas that'll split you like dutches\nTry to flame niggas when they get you in they clutches\nYou talk like a gangsta, walk like a gangsta\nWatch for them haters - they tryin' to get your paper\nThe streets is a foul thing, a wild thing\nYou wasn't locked in Sing Sing - you just love to sting\nHow you a thug nigga - and you scared of the bing?\nI'ma tell y'all niggas one thing\n(Ya heard me?)\nYou was hot 'til we dropped and reduced your fever\nHeir to this thug shit like Julius Caesar\n\n[Chorus:]\nAll my convicts, felony thugs, forever on the run\nLive by the gun, die by the gun\nWhere you eat food, snatch plate, wherever drama come\nLive by the gun, die by the gun\nWhen it jump off - make it pop, you be the only one\nLive by the gun, die by the gun\nIn this game of life - play hard, you only got one\nLive by the gun, die by the gun\n\nYo - every man bleed like I do, so why fear you?\nThat bullshit you throwin' at me - I can't hear you\nBut what I throw back - something that you can feel\nTeflon emerge from steel - shit is real\nA fishscale, verbally ill - no cut\nHip-hop nearly lost its form until I struck\nBeen rappin' since crack was packed in tall capsules\nNow I rock platinum chains and ice statues\nGuerrilla gat - combat rap - shit'll blast you\nI cock back and squeeze - what you fools gonna do?\nJust a copy of Mahdi - graft like Yacub\nMy niggas on 162\nMakin' pie\nP.R. savage, Lincoln Hall in Comstock\nA flock of birds stash crib soon as you touch ground\nYou know my homies gotta live, yo burn it down\nYou know my homies gotta live, yo burn it down\n\n[Chorus]\n\nYou either end up dead or some vegetables\nWhile we escape with the extraterrestrials\n2-5 embassy - now who next to lose?\nMahdi, Khadafi, your highness will rule\nCarnivorous thug - digest your food\nIt's like the Art of War volume two\nUnderworld shit\nDuct tape, kidnap rap, clap your girl shit\nYou got trees, then twirl it\nMy niggas 'url wit'\nIceberg velour suits and suede moccasins\nAir niggas out - deprive them of their oxygen\nMy raps - blowin' the world off its axis\nIgnitin' like matches - burnin' the illest graphics\nIn Morocco in the drop with the top low\nMe against the world - still I can't be stopped, though\nMy hoes like to ride on top and rock slow\nI flame-throw - my chain glow like a rainbow\n\n[Chorus]","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Live By The Gun\n  artist: Tragedy Khadafi\n  album: 'Cornerstone Mixtape #16'\n  duration_ms: 114704\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Tragedy Khadafi!\n  The Foul Mahdi!\n\n  Life's a bitch - we open her up like C-sections\n  Pour liquor on the asphalt for my dogs restin'\n  It's foul sport - you get iced with the Wesson\n  Pay attention - my nigga, learn a lesson\n  Rule one: never pull out guns and don't bust 'em\n  Your dog can't look you in the eye, don't trust 'im\n  Be the same niggas that'll split you like dutches\n  Try to flame niggas when they get you in they clutches\n  You talk like a gangsta, walk like a gangsta\n  Watch for them haters - they tryin' to get your paper\n  The streets is a foul thing, a wild thing\n  You wasn't locked in Sing Sing - you just love to sting\n  How you a thug nigga - and you scared of the bing?\n  I'ma tell y'all niggas one thing\n  (Ya heard me?)\n  You was hot 'til we dropped and reduced your fever\n  Heir to this thug shit like Julius Caesar\n\n  [Chorus:]\n  All my convicts, felony thugs, forever on the run\n  Live by the gun, die by the gun\n  Where you eat food, snatch plate, wherever drama come\n  Live by the gun, die by the gun\n  When it jump off - make it pop, you be the only one\n  Live by the gun, die by the gun\n  In this game of life - play hard, you only got one\n  Live by the gun, die by the gun\n\n  Yo - every man bleed like I do, so why fear you?\n  That bullshit you throwin' at me - I can't hear you\n  But what I throw back - something that you can feel\n  Teflon emerge from steel - shit is real\n  A fishscale, verbally ill - no cut\n  Hip-hop nearly lost its form until I struck\n  Been rappin' since crack was packed in tall capsules\n  Now I rock platinum chains and ice statues\n  Guerrilla gat - combat rap - shit'll blast you\n  I cock back and squeeze - what you fools gonna do?\n  Just a copy of Mahdi - graft like Yacub\n  My niggas on 162\n  Makin' pie\n  P.R. savage, Lincoln Hall in Comstock\n  A flock of birds stash crib soon as you touch ground\n  You know my homies gotta live, yo burn it down\n  You know my homies gotta live, yo burn it down\n\n  [Chorus]\n\n  You either end up dead or some vegetables\n  While we escape with the extraterrestrials\n  2-5 embassy - now who next to lose?\n  Mahdi, Khadafi, your highness will rule\n  Carnivorous thug - digest your food\n  It's like the Art of War volume two\n  Underworld shit\n  Duct tape, kidnap rap, clap your girl shit\n  You got trees, then twirl it\n  My niggas 'url wit'\n  Iceberg velour suits and suede moccasins\n  Air niggas out - deprive them of their oxygen\n  My raps - blowin' the world off its axis\n  Ignitin' like matches - burnin' the illest graphics\n  In Morocco in the drop with the top low\n  Me against the world - still I can't be stopped, though\n  My hoes like to ride on top and rock slow\n  I flame-throw - my chain glow like a rainbow\n\n  [Chorus]\n"},{"id":10575623,"name":"Live by the Gun","trackName":"Live by the Gun","artistName":"Tragedy Khadafi","albumName":"Against All Odds","duration":222.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Tragedy Khadafi!\nThe Foul Mahdi!\n\nLife's a bitch - we open her up like C-sections\nPour liquor on the asphalt for my dogs restin'\nIt's foul sport - you get iced with the Wesson\nPay attention - my nigga, learn a lesson\nRule one: never pull out guns and don't bust 'em\nYour dog can't look you in the eye, don't trust 'im\nBe the same niggas that'll split you like dutches\nTry to flame niggas when they get you in they clutches\nYou talk like a gangsta, walk like a gangsta\nWatch for them haters - they tryin' to get your paper\nThe streets is a foul thing, a wild thing\nYou wasn't locked in Sing Sing - you just love to sting\nHow you a thug nigga - and you scared of the bing?\nI'ma tell y'all niggas one thing\n(Ya heard me?)\nYou was hot 'til we dropped and reduced your fever\nHeir to this thug shit like Julius Caesar\n\n[Chorus:]\nAll my convicts, felony thugs, forever on the run\nLive by the gun, die by the gun\nWhere you eat food, snatch plate, wherever drama come\nLive by the gun, die by the gun\nWhen it jump off - make it pop, you be the only one\nLive by the gun, die by the gun\nIn this game of life - play hard, you only got one\nLive by the gun, die by the gun\n\nYo - every man bleed like I do, so why fear you?\nThat bullshit you throwin' at me - I can't hear you\nBut what I throw back - something that you can feel\nTeflon emerge from steel - shit is real\nA fishscale, verbally ill - no cut\nHip-hop nearly lost its form until I struck\nBeen rappin' since crack was packed in tall capsules\nNow I rock platinum chains and ice statues\nGuerrilla gat - combat rap - shit'll blast you\nI cock back and squeeze - what you fools gonna do?\nJust a copy of Mahdi - graft like Yacub\nMy niggas on 162\nMakin' pie\nP.R. savage, Lincoln Hall in Comstock\nA flock of birds stash crib soon as you touch ground\nYou know my homies gotta live, yo burn it down\nYou know my homies gotta live, yo burn it down\n\n[Chorus]\n\nYou either end up dead or some vegetables\nWhile we escape with the extraterrestrials\n2-5 embassy - now who next to lose?\nMahdi, Khadafi, your highness will rule\nCarnivorous thug - digest your food\nIt's like the Art of War volume two\nUnderworld shit\nDuct tape, kidnap rap, clap your girl shit\nYou got trees, then twirl it\nMy niggas 'url wit'\nIceberg velour suits and suede moccasins\nAir niggas out - deprive them of their oxygen\nMy raps - blowin' the world off its axis\nIgnitin' like matches - burnin' the illest graphics\nIn Morocco in the drop with the top low\nMe against the world - still I can't be stopped, though\nMy hoes like to ride on top and rock slow\nI flame-throw - my chain glow like a rainbow\n\n[Chorus]","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Live by the Gun\n  artist: Tragedy Khadafi\n  album: Against All Odds\n  duration_ms: 222000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Tragedy Khadafi!\n  The Foul Mahdi!\n\n  Life's a bitch - we open her up like C-sections\n  Pour liquor on the asphalt for my dogs restin'\n  It's foul sport - you get iced with the Wesson\n  Pay attention - my nigga, learn a lesson\n  Rule one: never pull out guns and don't bust 'em\n  Your dog can't look you in the eye, don't trust 'im\n  Be the same niggas that'll split you like dutches\n  Try to flame niggas when they get you in they clutches\n  You talk like a gangsta, walk like a gangsta\n  Watch for them haters - they tryin' to get your paper\n  The streets is a foul thing, a wild thing\n  You wasn't locked in Sing Sing - you just love to sting\n  How you a thug nigga - and you scared of the bing?\n  I'ma tell y'all niggas one thing\n  (Ya heard me?)\n  You was hot 'til we dropped and reduced your fever\n  Heir to this thug shit like Julius Caesar\n\n  [Chorus:]\n  All my convicts, felony thugs, forever on the run\n  Live by the gun, die by the gun\n  Where you eat food, snatch plate, wherever drama come\n  Live by the gun, die by the gun\n  When it jump off - make it pop, you be the only one\n  Live by the gun, die by the gun\n  In this game of life - play hard, you only got one\n  Live by the gun, die by the gun\n\n  Yo - every man bleed like I do, so why fear you?\n  That bullshit you throwin' at me - I can't hear you\n  But what I throw back - something that you can feel\n  Teflon emerge from steel - shit is real\n  A fishscale, verbally ill - no cut\n  Hip-hop nearly lost its form until I struck\n  Been rappin' since crack was packed in tall capsules\n  Now I rock platinum chains and ice statues\n  Guerrilla gat - combat rap - shit'll blast you\n  I cock back and squeeze - what you fools gonna do?\n  Just a copy of Mahdi - graft like Yacub\n  My niggas on 162\n  Makin' pie\n  P.R. savage, Lincoln Hall in Comstock\n  A flock of birds stash crib soon as you touch ground\n  You know my homies gotta live, yo burn it down\n  You know my homies gotta live, yo burn it down\n\n  [Chorus]\n\n  You either end up dead or some vegetables\n  While we escape with the extraterrestrials\n  2-5 embassy - now who next to lose?\n  Mahdi, Khadafi, your highness will rule\n  Carnivorous thug - digest your food\n  It's like the Art of War volume two\n  Underworld shit\n  Duct tape, kidnap rap, clap your girl shit\n  You got trees, then twirl it\n  My niggas 'url wit'\n  Iceberg velour suits and suede moccasins\n  Air niggas out - deprive them of their oxygen\n  My raps - blowin' the world off its axis\n  Ignitin' like matches - burnin' the illest graphics\n  In Morocco in the drop with the top low\n  Me against the world - still I can't be stopped, though\n  My hoes like to ride on top and rock slow\n  I flame-throw - my chain glow like a rainbow\n\n  [Chorus]\n"},{"id":9413016,"name":"Live By The Gun","trackName":"Live By The Gun","artistName":"Tragedy Khadafi","albumName":"Thug Matrix 4118","duration":223.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Tragedy Khadafi!\nThe Foul Mahdi!\n\nLife's a bitch - we open her up like C-sections\nPour liquor on the asphalt for my dogs restin'\nIt's foul sport - you get iced with the Wesson\nPay attention - my nigga, learn a lesson\nRule one: never pull out guns and don't bust 'em\nYour dog can't look you in the eye, don't trust 'im\nBe the same niggas that'll split you like dutches\nTry to flame niggas when they get you in they clutches\nYou talk like a gangsta, walk like a gangsta\nWatch for them haters - they tryin' to get your paper\nThe streets is a foul thing, a wild thing\nYou wasn't locked in Sing Sing - you just love to sting\nHow you a thug nigga - and you scared of the bing?\nI'ma tell y'all niggas one thing\n(Ya heard me?)\nYou was hot 'til we dropped and reduced your fever\nHeir to this thug shit like Julius Caesar\n\n[Chorus:]\nAll my convicts, felony thugs, forever on the run\nLive by the gun, die by the gun\nWhere you eat food, snatch plate, wherever drama come\nLive by the gun, die by the gun\nWhen it jump off - make it pop, you be the only one\nLive by the gun, die by the gun\nIn this game of life - play hard, you only got one\nLive by the gun, die by the gun\n\nYo - every man bleed like I do, so why fear you?\nThat bullshit you throwin' at me - I can't hear you\nBut what I throw back - something that you can feel\nTeflon emerge from steel - shit is real\nA fishscale, verbally ill - no cut\nHip-hop nearly lost its form until I struck\nBeen rappin' since crack was packed in tall capsules\nNow I rock platinum chains and ice statues\nGuerrilla gat - combat rap - shit'll blast you\nI cock back and squeeze - what you fools gonna do?\nJust a copy of Mahdi - graft like Yacub\nMy niggas on 162\nMakin' pie\nP.R. savage, Lincoln Hall in Comstock\nA flock of birds stash crib soon as you touch ground\nYou know my homies gotta live, yo burn it down\nYou know my homies gotta live, yo burn it down\n\n[Chorus]\n\nYou either end up dead or some vegetables\nWhile we escape with the extraterrestrials\n2-5 embassy - now who next to lose?\nMahdi, Khadafi, your highness will rule\nCarnivorous thug - digest your food\nIt's like the Art of War volume two\nUnderworld shit\nDuct tape, kidnap rap, clap your girl shit\nYou got trees, then twirl it\nMy niggas 'url wit'\nIceberg velour suits and suede moccasins\nAir niggas out - deprive them of their oxygen\nMy raps - blowin' the world off its axis\nIgnitin' like matches - burnin' the illest graphics\nIn Morocco in the drop with the top low\nMe against the world - still I can't be stopped, though\nMy hoes like to ride on top and rock slow\nI flame-throw - my chain glow like a rainbow\n\n[Chorus]","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Live By The Gun\n  artist: Tragedy Khadafi\n  album: Thug Matrix 4118\n  duration_ms: 223000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Tragedy Khadafi!\n  The Foul Mahdi!\n\n  Life's a bitch - we open her up like C-sections\n  Pour liquor on the asphalt for my dogs restin'\n  It's foul sport - you get iced with the Wesson\n  Pay attention - my nigga, learn a lesson\n  Rule one: never pull out guns and don't bust 'em\n  Your dog can't look you in the eye, don't trust 'im\n  Be the same niggas that'll split you like dutches\n  Try to flame niggas when they get you in they clutches\n  You talk like a gangsta, walk like a gangsta\n  Watch for them haters - they tryin' to get your paper\n  The streets is a foul thing, a wild thing\n  You wasn't locked in Sing Sing - you just love to sting\n  How you a thug nigga - and you scared of the bing?\n  I'ma tell y'all niggas one thing\n  (Ya heard me?)\n  You was hot 'til we dropped and reduced your fever\n  Heir to this thug shit like Julius Caesar\n\n  [Chorus:]\n  All my convicts, felony thugs, forever on the run\n  Live by the gun, die by the gun\n  Where you eat food, snatch plate, wherever drama come\n  Live by the gun, die by the gun\n  When it jump off - make it pop, you be the only one\n  Live by the gun, die by the gun\n  In this game of life - play hard, you only got one\n  Live by the gun, die by the gun\n\n  Yo - every man bleed like I do, so why fear you?\n  That bullshit you throwin' at me - I can't hear you\n  But what I throw back - something that you can feel\n  Teflon emerge from steel - shit is real\n  A fishscale, verbally ill - no cut\n  Hip-hop nearly lost its form until I struck\n  Been rappin' since crack was packed in tall capsules\n  Now I rock platinum chains and ice statues\n  Guerrilla gat - combat rap - shit'll blast you\n  I cock back and squeeze - what you fools gonna do?\n  Just a copy of Mahdi - graft like Yacub\n  My niggas on 162\n  Makin' pie\n  P.R. savage, Lincoln Hall in Comstock\n  A flock of birds stash crib soon as you touch ground\n  You know my homies gotta live, yo burn it down\n  You know my homies gotta live, yo burn it down\n\n  [Chorus]\n\n  You either end up dead or some vegetables\n  While we escape with the extraterrestrials\n  2-5 embassy - now who next to lose?\n  Mahdi, Khadafi, your highness will rule\n  Carnivorous thug - digest your food\n  It's like the Art of War volume two\n  Underworld shit\n  Duct tape, kidnap rap, clap your girl shit\n  You got trees, then twirl it\n  My niggas 'url wit'\n  Iceberg velour suits and suede moccasins\n  Air niggas out - deprive them of their oxygen\n  My raps - blowin' the world off its axis\n  Ignitin' like matches - burnin' the illest graphics\n  In Morocco in the drop with the top low\n  Me against the world - still I can't be stopped, though\n  My hoes like to ride on top and rock slow\n  I flame-throw - my chain glow like a rainbow\n\n  [Chorus]\n"},{"id":29018545,"name":"Live by the Gun","trackName":"Live by the Gun","artistName":"Tragedy Khadafi","albumName":"Hot New Artist E-CD","duration":115.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Tragedy Khadafi!\nThe Foul Mahdi!\n\nLife's a bitch - we open her up like C-sections\nPour liquor on the asphalt for my dogs restin'\nIt's foul sport - you get iced with the Wesson\nPay attention - my nigga, learn a lesson\nRule one: never pull out guns and don't bust 'em\nYour dog can't look you in the eye, don't trust 'im\nBe the same niggas that'll split you like dutches\nTry to flame niggas when they get you in they clutches\nYou talk like a gangsta, walk like a gangsta\nWatch for them haters - they tryin' to get your paper\nThe streets is a foul thing, a wild thing\nYou wasn't locked in Sing Sing - you just love to sting\nHow you a thug nigga - and you scared of the bing?\nI'ma tell y'all niggas one thing\n(Ya heard me?)\nYou was hot 'til we dropped and reduced your fever\nHeir to this thug shit like Julius Caesar\n\n[Chorus:]\nAll my convicts, felony thugs, forever on the run\nLive by the gun, die by the gun\nWhere you eat food, snatch plate, wherever drama come\nLive by the gun, die by the gun\nWhen it jump off - make it pop, you be the only one\nLive by the gun, die by the gun\nIn this game of life - play hard, you only got one\nLive by the gun, die by the gun\n\nYo - every man bleed like I do, so why fear you?\nThat bullshit you throwin' at me - I can't hear you\nBut what I throw back - something that you can feel\nTeflon emerge from steel - shit is real\nA fishscale, verbally ill - no cut\nHip-hop nearly lost its form until I struck\nBeen rappin' since crack was packed in tall capsules\nNow I rock platinum chains and ice statues\nGuerrilla gat - combat rap - shit'll blast you\nI cock back and squeeze - what you fools gonna do?\nJust a copy of Mahdi - graft like Yacub\nMy niggas on 162\nMakin' pie\nP.R. savage, Lincoln Hall in Comstock\nA flock of birds stash crib soon as you touch ground\nYou know my homies gotta live, yo burn it down\nYou know my homies gotta live, yo burn it down\n\n[Chorus]\n\nYou either end up dead or some vegetables\nWhile we escape with the extraterrestrials\n2-5 embassy - now who next to lose?\nMahdi, Khadafi, your highness will rule\nCarnivorous thug - digest your food\nIt's like the Art of War volume two\nUnderworld shit\nDuct tape, kidnap rap, clap your girl shit\nYou got trees, then twirl it\nMy niggas 'url wit'\nIceberg velour suits and suede moccasins\nAir niggas out - deprive them of their oxygen\nMy raps - blowin' the world off its axis\nIgnitin' like matches - burnin' the illest graphics\nIn Morocco in the drop with the top low\nMe against the world - still I can't be stopped, though\nMy hoes like to ride on top and rock slow\nI flame-throw - my chain glow like a rainbow\n\n[Chorus]","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Live by the Gun\n  artist: Tragedy Khadafi\n  album: Hot New Artist E-CD\n  duration_ms: 115000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Tragedy Khadafi!\n  The Foul Mahdi!\n\n  Life's a bitch - we open her up like C-sections\n  Pour liquor on the asphalt for my dogs restin'\n  It's foul sport - you get iced with the Wesson\n  Pay attention - my nigga, learn a lesson\n  Rule one: never pull out guns and don't bust 'em\n  Your dog can't look you in the eye, don't trust 'im\n  Be the same niggas that'll split you like dutches\n  Try to flame niggas when they get you in they clutches\n  You talk like a gangsta, walk like a gangsta\n  Watch for them haters - they tryin' to get your paper\n  The streets is a foul thing, a wild thing\n  You wasn't locked in Sing Sing - you just love to sting\n  How you a thug nigga - and you scared of the bing?\n  I'ma tell y'all niggas one thing\n  (Ya heard me?)\n  You was hot 'til we dropped and reduced your fever\n  Heir to this thug shit like Julius Caesar\n\n  [Chorus:]\n  All my convicts, felony thugs, forever on the run\n  Live by the gun, die by the gun\n  Where you eat food, snatch plate, wherever drama come\n  Live by the gun, die by the gun\n  When it jump off - make it pop, you be the only one\n  Live by the gun, die by the gun\n  In this game of life - play hard, you only got one\n  Live by the gun, die by the gun\n\n  Yo - every man bleed like I do, so why fear you?\n  That bullshit you throwin' at me - I can't hear you\n  But what I throw back - something that you can feel\n  Teflon emerge from steel - shit is real\n  A fishscale, verbally ill - no cut\n  Hip-hop nearly lost its form until I struck\n  Been rappin' since crack was packed in tall capsules\n  Now I rock platinum chains and ice statues\n  Guerrilla gat - combat rap - shit'll blast you\n  I cock back and squeeze - what you fools gonna do?\n  Just a copy of Mahdi - graft like Yacub\n  My niggas on 162\n  Makin' pie\n  P.R. savage, Lincoln Hall in Comstock\n  A flock of birds stash crib soon as you touch ground\n  You know my homies gotta live, yo burn it down\n  You know my homies gotta live, yo burn it down\n\n  [Chorus]\n\n  You either end up dead or some vegetables\n  While we escape with the extraterrestrials\n  2-5 embassy - now who next to lose?\n  Mahdi, Khadafi, your highness will rule\n  Carnivorous thug - digest your food\n  It's like the Art of War volume two\n  Underworld shit\n  Duct tape, kidnap rap, clap your girl shit\n  You got trees, then twirl it\n  My niggas 'url wit'\n  Iceberg velour suits and suede moccasins\n  Air niggas out - deprive them of their oxygen\n  My raps - blowin' the world off its axis\n  Ignitin' like matches - burnin' the illest graphics\n  In Morocco in the drop with the top low\n  Me against the world - still I can't be stopped, though\n  My hoes like to ride on top and rock slow\n  I flame-throw - my chain glow like a rainbow\n\n  [Chorus]\n"},{"id":36888499,"name":"Live By The Gun (prod. Self)","trackName":"Live By The Gun (prod. Self)","artistName":"Tragedy Khadafi","albumName":"Against All Odds","duration":222.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Life's a bitch, we open her up like C-sections\nPour liquor on the asphalt for my dogs restin'\nIt's foul sport, you get iced with the Wesson\nPay attention, my nigga, learn a lesson\nRule one, never pull out guns and don't bust 'em\nYour dog can't look you in the eye, don't trust 'em\nBe them same niggas that'll split you like Dutches\nTry to flame niggas once they get you in they clutches\nYou talk like a gangsta, walk like a gangsta\nWatch for them haters, they tryin' to get your paper\nThe streets is a foul thing, a wild thing\nOnce unlocked the Sing Sing, you's love to sing\nHow you a thug nigga and you scared of the bing?\nI'ma tell y'all niggas one thing (Ya heard me?)\nYou was hot 'til we dropped and reduced your fever\nHeir to this thug shit like Julius Caesar, nigga\n\nAll my convicts, felony thugs forever on the run\nLive by the gun, die by the gun\nWe eat food, snatch plates, whatever drama come\nLive by the gun, die by the gun\nWhen it jump off, make it pop, you be the only one\nLive by the gun, die by the gun\nIn this game of life, play hard, you only got one\nLive by the gun, die by the gun\n\nEvery man bleed like I do, so why fear you?\nThat bullshit you throwin' at me, I can't hear you\nBut what I throw back, somethin' that you can feel\nTeflon emerge in steel, this shit is real\nI'm fishscale, verbally ill, no cut\nHip-hop nearly lost its form until I struck\nBeen rappin' since crack was packed in tall capsules\nNow I rock platinum chains and ice statues\nGuerilla gat, combat rap, shit'll blast you\nI cock back and squeeze, what you fools gon' do?\nJust a copy of Mahdi, graft like Yakub\nMy niggas on 162, make it pop\nPR savage, Lincoln Hall and Comstock\nA flock of birds, stash crib soon as you touch ground\nYou know my homies gotta live, yo, burn it down\nYou know my homies gotta live, yo, burn it down\n\nAll my convicts, felony thugs forever on the run\nLive by the gun, die by the gun\nWe eat food, snatch plates, whatever drama come\nLive by the gun, die by the gun\nWhen it jump off, make it pop, you be the only one\nLive by the gun, die by the gun\nIn this game of life, play hard, you only got one\nLive by the gun, die by the gun\n\nYou could end up dead or some vegetables\nWhile we escape with the extraterrestrials\nTwo-five embassy, now who next to lose?\nMahdi, Kadafi, your highness, the Wu\nCarnivorous thug, digest your food\nIt's like the Art of War Volume 2\nUnderworld shit, duct tape, kidnap rap, clap your girl shit\nYou got trees? Then twirl it, my niggas hurl with\nIceberg velour suits and suede moccasins\nAir niggas out, deprive them of they oxygen\nThe most raps blow the world off its axis\nIgnite like matches, burnin' the illest rappers\nIn Morocco in the drop with the top low\nMe against the world, still I can't be stopped though\nMy hoes like to ride on top and rock slow\nI flame throw, my chain glow like a rainbow\n\nAll my convicts, felony thugs forever on the run\nLive by the gun, die by the gun\nWe eat food, snatch plates, whatever drama come\nLive by the gun, die by the gun\nWhen it jump off, make it pop, you be the only one\nLive by the gun, die by the gun\nIn this game of life, play hard, you only got one\nLive by the gun, die by the gun","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Live By The Gun (prod. Self)\n  artist: Tragedy Khadafi\n  album: Against All Odds\n  duration_ms: 222000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Life's a bitch, we open her up like C-sections\n  Pour liquor on the asphalt for my dogs restin'\n  It's foul sport, you get iced with the Wesson\n  Pay attention, my nigga, learn a lesson\n  Rule one, never pull out guns and don't bust 'em\n  Your dog can't look you in the eye, don't trust 'em\n  Be them same niggas that'll split you like Dutches\n  Try to flame niggas once they get you in they clutches\n  You talk like a gangsta, walk like a gangsta\n  Watch for them haters, they tryin' to get your paper\n  The streets is a foul thing, a wild thing\n  Once unlocked the Sing Sing, you's love to sing\n  How you a thug nigga and you scared of the bing?\n  I'ma tell y'all niggas one thing (Ya heard me?)\n  You was hot 'til we dropped and reduced your fever\n  Heir to this thug shit like Julius Caesar, nigga\n\n  All my convicts, felony thugs forever on the run\n  Live by the gun, die by the gun\n  We eat food, snatch plates, whatever drama come\n  Live by the gun, die by the gun\n  When it jump off, make it pop, you be the only one\n  Live by the gun, die by the gun\n  In this game of life, play hard, you only got one\n  Live by the gun, die by the gun\n\n  Every man bleed like I do, so why fear you?\n  That bullshit you throwin' at me, I can't hear you\n  But what I throw back, somethin' that you can feel\n  Teflon emerge in steel, this shit is real\n  I'm fishscale, verbally ill, no cut\n  Hip-hop nearly lost its form until I struck\n  Been rappin' since crack was packed in tall capsules\n  Now I rock platinum chains and ice statues\n  Guerilla gat, combat rap, shit'll blast you\n  I cock back and squeeze, what you fools gon' do?\n  Just a copy of Mahdi, graft like Yakub\n  My niggas on 162, make it pop\n  PR savage, Lincoln Hall and Comstock\n  A flock of birds, stash crib soon as you touch ground\n  You know my homies gotta live, yo, burn it down\n  You know my homies gotta live, yo, burn it down\n\n  All my convicts, felony thugs forever on the run\n  Live by the gun, die by the gun\n  We eat food, snatch plates, whatever drama come\n  Live by the gun, die by the gun\n  When it jump off, make it pop, you be the only one\n  Live by the gun, die by the gun\n  In this game of life, play hard, you only got one\n  Live by the gun, die by the gun\n\n  You could end up dead or some vegetables\n  While we escape with the extraterrestrials\n  Two-five embassy, now who next to lose?\n  Mahdi, Kadafi, your highness, the Wu\n  Carnivorous thug, digest your food\n  It's like the Art of War Volume 2\n  Underworld shit, duct tape, kidnap rap, clap your girl shit\n  You got trees? Then twirl it, my niggas hurl with\n  Iceberg velour suits and suede moccasins\n  Air niggas out, deprive them of they oxygen\n  The most raps blow the world off its axis\n  Ignite like matches, burnin' the illest rappers\n  In Morocco in the drop with the top low\n  Me against the world, still I can't be stopped though\n  My hoes like to ride on top and rock slow\n  I flame throw, my chain glow like a rainbow\n\n  All my convicts, felony thugs forever on the run\n  Live by the gun, die by the gun\n  We eat food, snatch plates, whatever drama come\n  Live by the gun, die by the gun\n  When it jump off, make it pop, you be the only one\n  Live by the gun, die by the gun\n  In this game of life, play hard, you only got one\n  Live by the gun, die by the gun\n"}]