[{"id":9430964,"name":"Persian Legacy","trackName":"Persian Legacy","artistName":"Vinnie Paz","albumName":"Camouflage Regime","duration":227.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Usually it starts by, you know, crossing out mostly you know\nOne neighborhood will put their\nwriting on the wall, and then, you know\nWe come in right next to it,\nor cross em out, and they will cross us back out\nAnd then it gets into, umm you know\nMaybe a fist fight,\nthen maybe guys gets knifed behind it. And then shooting\nAnd then someone dies,\nand they might wanna get back at us, if they do get back at us\nWe go down and might kill two of them,\nthen they will come back and maybe get one of us\nAnd we will go back and get two or three more\nIt just goes on and on, it don't stop\"\n\nThis is slang warfare akhi, I don't got the time for that\nThis Charter Arms 5 shots spin him like a laundromat\nTony Rome wop shit, rocking the fedora hat\nIts bloody money, bloody bodies, homie this is horror rap\nThe block full of Gestapo, its hotter than Honolulu\nWe military minded, and we ride like shaka zulu\nIts African tradition, so you have to honor juju\nAnd black Tibetan magic, just another kind of voodoo\nCamouflage regime we maneuver through militias\nA man do the heavy lifting, bitchs do the dishes\nHow is you a shooter, when you shoot 'em and it misses\nThis mossburg, burn'em and it doing it to bridges\nThe gun connoisseur, the philosopher of iron shit\nNever sleep, watching everything like it's a firestick\nYour talking real crazy for someone with no blicky\nAnd I ain't even know that the shooter was old fifty\n\nI tip-toe everywhere that I go\nLay a motherfucker out I swear on my soul\nFuck around and run your mouth and catch a hot one\nInfra-red beams, gas mask and a shotgun\nI tip-toe everywhere that I go\nLay a motherfucker swear on my soul\nFuck around and run your mouth and catch a hot one\nInfra-red beams, gas mask and a shotgun\n\nYeah, offspring of the Juice Crew, that's part of my essence\nMakhi was legend before I even rapped on a record\nApocalyptic apostle, see, I was born to rep it\nI craft mathematical lessons inside a message\nSublime prime masterminds inside wide Benzes\nCircling their blocks, a killers in the crack vengeance\nSaw all my warriors still breathing, the saga's endless\nImagine they'll breathe, they'll birth me and piss on my passion\nManufactured and fire ghetto messiah blacksmith\nSo nice would it been a curse just to live my life with\nSalem slot to hells fire, the streets source to righteous\nEvaded federal cases, Supreme Court indictments\nFor those locked in The Beacon, and trapped on Rykers Island\nHold your crown in that cell, and seek for more enlightenment\nLet my lines be the strength and power you need to fight with\nAll relies on your energy, go hard and ignite\n\nI tip-toe everywhere that I go\nNary a motherfucker I swear on my soul\nFuck around and run your mouth and catch a hot one\nInfra-red beams, gas mask and a shotgun\nI tip-toe everywhere that I go\nNary a motherfucker I swear on my soul\nFuck around and run your mouth and catch a hot one\nInfra-red beams, gas mask and a shotgun","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Persian Legacy\n  artist: Vinnie Paz\n  album: Camouflage Regime\n  duration_ms: 227000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Usually it starts by, you know, crossing out mostly you know\n  One neighborhood will put their\n  writing on the wall, and then, you know\n  We come in right next to it,\n  or cross em out, and they will cross us back out\n  And then it gets into, umm you know\n  Maybe a fist fight,\n  then maybe guys gets knifed behind it. And then shooting\n  And then someone dies,\n  and they might wanna get back at us, if they do get back at us\n  We go down and might kill two of them,\n  then they will come back and maybe get one of us\n  And we will go back and get two or three more\n  It just goes on and on, it don't stop\"\n\n  This is slang warfare akhi, I don't got the time for that\n  This Charter Arms 5 shots spin him like a laundromat\n  Tony Rome wop shit, rocking the fedora hat\n  Its bloody money, bloody bodies, homie this is horror rap\n  The block full of Gestapo, its hotter than Honolulu\n  We military minded, and we ride like shaka zulu\n  Its African tradition, so you have to honor juju\n  And black Tibetan magic, just another kind of voodoo\n  Camouflage regime we maneuver through militias\n  A man do the heavy lifting, bitchs do the dishes\n  How is you a shooter, when you shoot 'em and it misses\n  This mossburg, burn'em and it doing it to bridges\n  The gun connoisseur, the philosopher of iron shit\n  Never sleep, watching everything like it's a firestick\n  Your talking real crazy for someone with no blicky\n  And I ain't even know that the shooter was old fifty\n\n  I tip-toe everywhere that I go\n  Lay a motherfucker out I swear on my soul\n  Fuck around and run your mouth and catch a hot one\n  Infra-red beams, gas mask and a shotgun\n  I tip-toe everywhere that I go\n  Lay a motherfucker swear on my soul\n  Fuck around and run your mouth and catch a hot one\n  Infra-red beams, gas mask and a shotgun\n\n  Yeah, offspring of the Juice Crew, that's part of my essence\n  Makhi was legend before I even rapped on a record\n  Apocalyptic apostle, see, I was born to rep it\n  I craft mathematical lessons inside a message\n  Sublime prime masterminds inside wide Benzes\n  Circling their blocks, a killers in the crack vengeance\n  Saw all my warriors still breathing, the saga's endless\n  Imagine they'll breathe, they'll birth me and piss on my passion\n  Manufactured and fire ghetto messiah blacksmith\n  So nice would it been a curse just to live my life with\n  Salem slot to hells fire, the streets source to righteous\n  Evaded federal cases, Supreme Court indictments\n  For those locked in The Beacon, and trapped on Rykers Island\n  Hold your crown in that cell, and seek for more enlightenment\n  Let my lines be the strength and power you need to fight with\n  All relies on your energy, go hard and ignite\n\n  I tip-toe everywhere that I go\n  Nary a motherfucker I swear on my soul\n  Fuck around and run your mouth and catch a hot one\n  Infra-red beams, gas mask and a shotgun\n  I tip-toe everywhere that I go\n  Nary a motherfucker I swear on my soul\n  Fuck around and run your mouth and catch a hot one\n  Infra-red beams, gas mask and a shotgun\n"},{"id":11069621,"name":"Persian Legacy","trackName":"Persian Legacy","artistName":"Paz, Vinnie & Tragedy Khadafi","albumName":"Camouflage Regime","duration":227.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Usually it starts by, you know, crossing out mostly you know\nOne neighborhood will put their\nwriting on the wall, and then, you know\nWe come in right next to it,\nor cross em out, and they will cross us back out\nAnd then it gets into, umm you know\nMaybe a fist fight,\nthen maybe guys gets knifed behind it. And then shooting\nAnd then someone dies,\nand they might wanna get back at us, if they do get back at us\nWe go down and might kill two of them,\nthen they will come back and maybe get one of us\nAnd we will go back and get two or three more\nIt just goes on and on, it don't stop\"\n\nThis is slang warfare akhi, I don't got the time for that\nThis Charter Arms 5 shots spin him like a laundromat\nTony Rome wop shit, rocking the fedora hat\nIts bloody money, bloody bodies, homie this is horror rap\nThe block full of Gestapo, its hotter than Honolulu\nWe military minded, and we ride like shaka zulu\nIts African tradition, so you have to honor juju\nAnd black Tibetan magic, just another kind of voodoo\nCamouflage regime we maneuver through militias\nA man do the heavy lifting, bitchs do the dishes\nHow is you a shooter, when you shoot 'em and it misses\nThis mossburg, burn'em and it doing it to bridges\nThe gun connoisseur, the philosopher of iron shit\nNever sleep, watching everything like it's a firestick\nYour talking real crazy for someone with no blicky\nAnd I ain't even know that the shooter was old fifty\n\nI tip-toe everywhere that I go\nLay a motherfucker out I swear on my soul\nFuck around and run your mouth and catch a hot one\nInfra-red beams, gas mask and a shotgun\nI tip-toe everywhere that I go\nLay a motherfucker swear on my soul\nFuck around and run your mouth and catch a hot one\nInfra-red beams, gas mask and a shotgun\n\nYeah, offspring of the Juice Crew, that's part of my essence\nMakhi was legend before I even rapped on a record\nApocalyptic apostle, see, I was born to rep it\nI craft mathematical lessons inside a message\nSublime prime masterminds inside wide Benzes\nCircling their blocks, a killers in the crack vengeance\nSaw all my warriors still breathing, the saga's endless\nImagine they'll breathe, they'll birth me and piss on my passion\nManufactured and fire ghetto messiah blacksmith\nSo nice would it been a curse just to live my life with\nSalem slot to hells fire, the streets source to righteous\nEvaded federal cases, Supreme Court indictments\nFor those locked in The Beacon, and trapped on Rykers Island\nHold your crown in that cell, and seek for more enlightenment\nLet my lines be the strength and power you need to fight with\nAll relies on your energy, go hard and ignite\n\nI tip-toe everywhere that I go\nNary a motherfucker I swear on my soul\nFuck around and run your mouth and catch a hot one\nInfra-red beams, gas mask and a shotgun\nI tip-toe everywhere that I go\nNary a motherfucker I swear on my soul\nFuck around and run your mouth and catch a hot one\nInfra-red beams, gas mask and a shotgun","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Persian Legacy\n  artist: Paz, Vinnie & Tragedy Khadafi\n  album: Camouflage Regime\n  duration_ms: 227000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Usually it starts by, you know, crossing out mostly you know\n  One neighborhood will put their\n  writing on the wall, and then, you know\n  We come in right next to it,\n  or cross em out, and they will cross us back out\n  And then it gets into, umm you know\n  Maybe a fist fight,\n  then maybe guys gets knifed behind it. And then shooting\n  And then someone dies,\n  and they might wanna get back at us, if they do get back at us\n  We go down and might kill two of them,\n  then they will come back and maybe get one of us\n  And we will go back and get two or three more\n  It just goes on and on, it don't stop\"\n\n  This is slang warfare akhi, I don't got the time for that\n  This Charter Arms 5 shots spin him like a laundromat\n  Tony Rome wop shit, rocking the fedora hat\n  Its bloody money, bloody bodies, homie this is horror rap\n  The block full of Gestapo, its hotter than Honolulu\n  We military minded, and we ride like shaka zulu\n  Its African tradition, so you have to honor juju\n  And black Tibetan magic, just another kind of voodoo\n  Camouflage regime we maneuver through militias\n  A man do the heavy lifting, bitchs do the dishes\n  How is you a shooter, when you shoot 'em and it misses\n  This mossburg, burn'em and it doing it to bridges\n  The gun connoisseur, the philosopher of iron shit\n  Never sleep, watching everything like it's a firestick\n  Your talking real crazy for someone with no blicky\n  And I ain't even know that the shooter was old fifty\n\n  I tip-toe everywhere that I go\n  Lay a motherfucker out I swear on my soul\n  Fuck around and run your mouth and catch a hot one\n  Infra-red beams, gas mask and a shotgun\n  I tip-toe everywhere that I go\n  Lay a motherfucker swear on my soul\n  Fuck around and run your mouth and catch a hot one\n  Infra-red beams, gas mask and a shotgun\n\n  Yeah, offspring of the Juice Crew, that's part of my essence\n  Makhi was legend before I even rapped on a record\n  Apocalyptic apostle, see, I was born to rep it\n  I craft mathematical lessons inside a message\n  Sublime prime masterminds inside wide Benzes\n  Circling their blocks, a killers in the crack vengeance\n  Saw all my warriors still breathing, the saga's endless\n  Imagine they'll breathe, they'll birth me and piss on my passion\n  Manufactured and fire ghetto messiah blacksmith\n  So nice would it been a curse just to live my life with\n  Salem slot to hells fire, the streets source to righteous\n  Evaded federal cases, Supreme Court indictments\n  For those locked in The Beacon, and trapped on Rykers Island\n  Hold your crown in that cell, and seek for more enlightenment\n  Let my lines be the strength and power you need to fight with\n  All relies on your energy, go hard and ignite\n\n  I tip-toe everywhere that I go\n  Nary a motherfucker I swear on my soul\n  Fuck around and run your mouth and catch a hot one\n  Infra-red beams, gas mask and a shotgun\n  I tip-toe everywhere that I go\n  Nary a motherfucker I swear on my soul\n  Fuck around and run your mouth and catch a hot one\n  Infra-red beams, gas mask and a shotgun\n"},{"id":10563313,"name":"Persian Legacy","trackName":"Persian Legacy","artistName":"Vinnie Paz & Tragedy Khadafi","albumName":"Camouflage Regime","duration":227.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Usually it starts by, you know, crossing out mostly you know\nOne neighborhood will put their\nwriting on the wall, and then, you know\nWe come in right next to it,\nor cross em out, and they will cross us back out\nAnd then it gets into, umm you know\nMaybe a fist fight,\nthen maybe guys gets knifed behind it. And then shooting\nAnd then someone dies,\nand they might wanna get back at us, if they do get back at us\nWe go down and might kill two of them,\nthen they will come back and maybe get one of us\nAnd we will go back and get two or three more\nIt just goes on and on, it don't stop\"\n\nThis is slang warfare akhi, I don't got the time for that\nThis Charter Arms 5 shots spin him like a laundromat\nTony Rome wop shit, rocking the fedora hat\nIts bloody money, bloody bodies, homie this is horror rap\nThe block full of Gestapo, its hotter than Honolulu\nWe military minded, and we ride like shaka zulu\nIts African tradition, so you have to honor juju\nAnd black Tibetan magic, just another kind of voodoo\nCamouflage regime we maneuver through militias\nA man do the heavy lifting, bitchs do the dishes\nHow is you a shooter, when you shoot 'em and it misses\nThis mossburg, burn'em and it doing it to bridges\nThe gun connoisseur, the philosopher of iron shit\nNever sleep, watching everything like it's a firestick\nYour talking real crazy for someone with no blicky\nAnd I ain't even know that the shooter was old fifty\n\nI tip-toe everywhere that I go\nLay a motherfucker out I swear on my soul\nFuck around and run your mouth and catch a hot one\nInfra-red beams, gas mask and a shotgun\nI tip-toe everywhere that I go\nLay a motherfucker swear on my soul\nFuck around and run your mouth and catch a hot one\nInfra-red beams, gas mask and a shotgun\n\nYeah, offspring of the Juice Crew, that's part of my essence\nMakhi was legend before I even rapped on a record\nApocalyptic apostle, see, I was born to rep it\nI craft mathematical lessons inside a message\nSublime prime masterminds inside wide Benzes\nCircling their blocks, a killers in the crack vengeance\nSaw all my warriors still breathing, the saga's endless\nImagine they'll breathe, they'll birth me and piss on my passion\nManufactured and fire ghetto messiah blacksmith\nSo nice would it been a curse just to live my life with\nSalem slot to hells fire, the streets source to righteous\nEvaded federal cases, Supreme Court indictments\nFor those locked in The Beacon, and trapped on Rykers Island\nHold your crown in that cell, and seek for more enlightenment\nLet my lines be the strength and power you need to fight with\nAll relies on your energy, go hard and ignite\n\nI tip-toe everywhere that I go\nNary a motherfucker I swear on my soul\nFuck around and run your mouth and catch a hot one\nInfra-red beams, gas mask and a shotgun\nI tip-toe everywhere that I go\nNary a motherfucker I swear on my soul\nFuck around and run your mouth and catch a hot one\nInfra-red beams, gas mask and a shotgun","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Persian Legacy\n  artist: Vinnie Paz & Tragedy Khadafi\n  album: Camouflage Regime\n  duration_ms: 227000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Usually it starts by, you know, crossing out mostly you know\n  One neighborhood will put their\n  writing on the wall, and then, you know\n  We come in right next to it,\n  or cross em out, and they will cross us back out\n  And then it gets into, umm you know\n  Maybe a fist fight,\n  then maybe guys gets knifed behind it. And then shooting\n  And then someone dies,\n  and they might wanna get back at us, if they do get back at us\n  We go down and might kill two of them,\n  then they will come back and maybe get one of us\n  And we will go back and get two or three more\n  It just goes on and on, it don't stop\"\n\n  This is slang warfare akhi, I don't got the time for that\n  This Charter Arms 5 shots spin him like a laundromat\n  Tony Rome wop shit, rocking the fedora hat\n  Its bloody money, bloody bodies, homie this is horror rap\n  The block full of Gestapo, its hotter than Honolulu\n  We military minded, and we ride like shaka zulu\n  Its African tradition, so you have to honor juju\n  And black Tibetan magic, just another kind of voodoo\n  Camouflage regime we maneuver through militias\n  A man do the heavy lifting, bitchs do the dishes\n  How is you a shooter, when you shoot 'em and it misses\n  This mossburg, burn'em and it doing it to bridges\n  The gun connoisseur, the philosopher of iron shit\n  Never sleep, watching everything like it's a firestick\n  Your talking real crazy for someone with no blicky\n  And I ain't even know that the shooter was old fifty\n\n  I tip-toe everywhere that I go\n  Lay a motherfucker out I swear on my soul\n  Fuck around and run your mouth and catch a hot one\n  Infra-red beams, gas mask and a shotgun\n  I tip-toe everywhere that I go\n  Lay a motherfucker swear on my soul\n  Fuck around and run your mouth and catch a hot one\n  Infra-red beams, gas mask and a shotgun\n\n  Yeah, offspring of the Juice Crew, that's part of my essence\n  Makhi was legend before I even rapped on a record\n  Apocalyptic apostle, see, I was born to rep it\n  I craft mathematical lessons inside a message\n  Sublime prime masterminds inside wide Benzes\n  Circling their blocks, a killers in the crack vengeance\n  Saw all my warriors still breathing, the saga's endless\n  Imagine they'll breathe, they'll birth me and piss on my passion\n  Manufactured and fire ghetto messiah blacksmith\n  So nice would it been a curse just to live my life with\n  Salem slot to hells fire, the streets source to righteous\n  Evaded federal cases, Supreme Court indictments\n  For those locked in The Beacon, and trapped on Rykers Island\n  Hold your crown in that cell, and seek for more enlightenment\n  Let my lines be the strength and power you need to fight with\n  All relies on your energy, go hard and ignite\n\n  I tip-toe everywhere that I go\n  Nary a motherfucker I swear on my soul\n  Fuck around and run your mouth and catch a hot one\n  Infra-red beams, gas mask and a shotgun\n  I tip-toe everywhere that I go\n  Nary a motherfucker I swear on my soul\n  Fuck around and run your mouth and catch a hot one\n  Infra-red beams, gas mask and a shotgun\n"},{"id":24251241,"name":"Persian Legacy","trackName":"Persian Legacy","artistName":"Vinnie Paz X Tragedy Khadafi","albumName":"Camouflage Regime","duration":227.448163,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Usually it starts by, you know, crossing out mostly you know\nOne neighborhood will put their\nwriting on the wall, and then, you know\nWe come in right next to it,\nor cross em out, and they will cross us back out\nAnd then it gets into, umm you know\nMaybe a fist fight,\nthen maybe guys gets knifed behind it. And then shooting\nAnd then someone dies,\nand they might wanna get back at us, if they do get back at us\nWe go down and might kill two of them,\nthen they will come back and maybe get one of us\nAnd we will go back and get two or three more\nIt just goes on and on, it don't stop\"\n\nThis is slang warfare akhi, I don't got the time for that\nThis Charter Arms 5 shots spin him like a laundromat\nTony Rome wop shit, rocking the fedora hat\nIts bloody money, bloody bodies, homie this is horror rap\nThe block full of Gestapo, its hotter than Honolulu\nWe military minded, and we ride like shaka zulu\nIts African tradition, so you have to honor juju\nAnd black Tibetan magic, just another kind of voodoo\nCamouflage regime we maneuver through militias\nA man do the heavy lifting, bitchs do the dishes\nHow is you a shooter, when you shoot 'em and it misses\nThis mossburg, burn'em and it doing it to bridges\nThe gun connoisseur, the philosopher of iron shit\nNever sleep, watching everything like it's a firestick\nYour talking real crazy for someone with no blicky\nAnd I ain't even know that the shooter was old fifty\n\nI tip-toe everywhere that I go\nLay a motherfucker out I swear on my soul\nFuck around and run your mouth and catch a hot one\nInfra-red beams, gas mask and a shotgun\nI tip-toe everywhere that I go\nLay a motherfucker swear on my soul\nFuck around and run your mouth and catch a hot one\nInfra-red beams, gas mask and a shotgun\n\nYeah, offspring of the Juice Crew, that's part of my essence\nMakhi was legend before I even rapped on a record\nApocalyptic apostle, see, I was born to rep it\nI craft mathematical lessons inside a message\nSublime prime masterminds inside wide Benzes\nCircling their blocks, a killers in the crack vengeance\nSaw all my warriors still breathing, the saga's endless\nImagine they'll breathe, they'll birth me and piss on my passion\nManufactured and fire ghetto messiah blacksmith\nSo nice would it been a curse just to live my life with\nSalem slot to hells fire, the streets source to righteous\nEvaded federal cases, Supreme Court indictments\nFor those locked in The Beacon, and trapped on Rykers Island\nHold your crown in that cell, and seek for more enlightenment\nLet my lines be the strength and power you need to fight with\nAll relies on your energy, go hard and ignite\n\nI tip-toe everywhere that I go\nNary a motherfucker I swear on my soul\nFuck around and run your mouth and catch a hot one\nInfra-red beams, gas mask and a shotgun\nI tip-toe everywhere that I go\nNary a motherfucker I swear on my soul\nFuck around and run your mouth and catch a hot one\nInfra-red beams, gas mask and a shotgun","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Persian Legacy\n  artist: Vinnie Paz X Tragedy Khadafi\n  album: Camouflage Regime\n  duration_ms: 227448\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Usually it starts by, you know, crossing out mostly you know\n  One neighborhood will put their\n  writing on the wall, and then, you know\n  We come in right next to it,\n  or cross em out, and they will cross us back out\n  And then it gets into, umm you know\n  Maybe a fist fight,\n  then maybe guys gets knifed behind it. And then shooting\n  And then someone dies,\n  and they might wanna get back at us, if they do get back at us\n  We go down and might kill two of them,\n  then they will come back and maybe get one of us\n  And we will go back and get two or three more\n  It just goes on and on, it don't stop\"\n\n  This is slang warfare akhi, I don't got the time for that\n  This Charter Arms 5 shots spin him like a laundromat\n  Tony Rome wop shit, rocking the fedora hat\n  Its bloody money, bloody bodies, homie this is horror rap\n  The block full of Gestapo, its hotter than Honolulu\n  We military minded, and we ride like shaka zulu\n  Its African tradition, so you have to honor juju\n  And black Tibetan magic, just another kind of voodoo\n  Camouflage regime we maneuver through militias\n  A man do the heavy lifting, bitchs do the dishes\n  How is you a shooter, when you shoot 'em and it misses\n  This mossburg, burn'em and it doing it to bridges\n  The gun connoisseur, the philosopher of iron shit\n  Never sleep, watching everything like it's a firestick\n  Your talking real crazy for someone with no blicky\n  And I ain't even know that the shooter was old fifty\n\n  I tip-toe everywhere that I go\n  Lay a motherfucker out I swear on my soul\n  Fuck around and run your mouth and catch a hot one\n  Infra-red beams, gas mask and a shotgun\n  I tip-toe everywhere that I go\n  Lay a motherfucker swear on my soul\n  Fuck around and run your mouth and catch a hot one\n  Infra-red beams, gas mask and a shotgun\n\n  Yeah, offspring of the Juice Crew, that's part of my essence\n  Makhi was legend before I even rapped on a record\n  Apocalyptic apostle, see, I was born to rep it\n  I craft mathematical lessons inside a message\n  Sublime prime masterminds inside wide Benzes\n  Circling their blocks, a killers in the crack vengeance\n  Saw all my warriors still breathing, the saga's endless\n  Imagine they'll breathe, they'll birth me and piss on my passion\n  Manufactured and fire ghetto messiah blacksmith\n  So nice would it been a curse just to live my life with\n  Salem slot to hells fire, the streets source to righteous\n  Evaded federal cases, Supreme Court indictments\n  For those locked in The Beacon, and trapped on Rykers Island\n  Hold your crown in that cell, and seek for more enlightenment\n  Let my lines be the strength and power you need to fight with\n  All relies on your energy, go hard and ignite\n\n  I tip-toe everywhere that I go\n  Nary a motherfucker I swear on my soul\n  Fuck around and run your mouth and catch a hot one\n  Infra-red beams, gas mask and a shotgun\n  I tip-toe everywhere that I go\n  Nary a motherfucker I swear on my soul\n  Fuck around and run your mouth and catch a hot one\n  Infra-red beams, gas mask and a shotgun\n"}]