[{"id":15839962,"name":"God is Love","trackName":"God is Love","artistName":"Westside Gunn","albumName":"(2022) 10","duration":321.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Conductor\nWoah, ah-hah\nConductor, we have a problem\nNackie Chan, wha-ta! (Coño)\nYo, son\n\nSanto Domingo, helpin' the grasa get to the gringo\nAs niggas watchin' us shine like kings, bro (Shining)\nGolden ring glow, a lot of blinging\nNo Chingo (Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding)\nAll my niggas are dogs like dingo (Woof, woof, woof, woof, woof)\nCall the bitches, the god might mingle (Mommy)\nPack a forty-fifth and some hard white singles, yeah\nForty dollars, a head buster, bell ringer\nRake in the paper\nThe stack of chips are tall like Pringles, son (Money)\nTook off a nigga roof and watch the\nPieces of him lift and fall like shingles (Bah, bah, bah, bah)\nPop the cork and toast the Veuve Clicquot\nWе done made this shit work\nAlthough it's niggas that got exposеd in R.I.C.O. (Yeah)\nCan't believe he did dirt and really told on his people (He folded)\nIn the streets, we deal with Os of perico (Word)\nLook at this nigga arm, you can tell by the inside (Uh-huh)\nHis only use for it just to poke it with needles and shit (Fuck)\nHe want it even more if he know if it's lethal (That's crazy)\nAyo, we came up (Uh-huh), what, what? Been on my ten toes, yo (Nack)\nI tap the jumper like it's Dominican Dembow bro (Jokin')\nI feel invincible when I sit in the Benzo (Vroom)\nGot uppers and downers, Addies and benzos, yeah\nDiamond dancin' (Uh), nine-hundred and ninety-six grams\nWe lost a few in the unwrappin', more in the pan (Yeah)\nFuck it, the last twelve\nThey dropped back like Randall Cunningham (They did)\nI had to hop step on it like Ja Morant (Haha)\nThen them tear pants with the candles (Stove)\nScorpions on the Carmelo Anthony (Stove)\nThey dropped me out the clouds\nI landed in coke water in the kitchen sink (Woo)\nThe answer is me (Woo)\nI told the plug \"Make sure it's Tia Landry\nI want it to look like the last one you handed me\" (I do)\nHe hopped out swingin' the chopper like a canopy (Brrt, bah, bah)\nI left my soul in the kitchen and my sanity (and my sanity)\nThe flip phone do a hundred-grand a week\nAngela Bassett, I had it flamin' in the street (Haha)\nFork in the pot, you hear the pan tink (Tink)\nNow I move it all hands-free\nMy bitch doin' her make-up in the vanity, look like DaniLeigh (She do)\nI bought a Chanel bag, just to ride in a sprinter van full of keys\n\nAnd when she made it (When she made it)\nWhen she made it (When she made it)\nWe celebrated when she made it\nWhen she made it, when she made it, Stove\nPeace, God\nGod is love, God\nI love God\nEven with the devil on my shoulder\nGod is love, FLYGOD is forever\nBig Griselda, bigger villains\nOne beginning, one ending\n(Conductor)\n\nPut the flash on him\nBenny the Butcher, man, how you feel, dawg?\nAt the top of the world, but it's still all\nMy boy Westside Gunn, nigga\nPut me on his damn back, said, \"Get-Get 'em\"\nAnd never mind what they talkin' 'bout\nReal niggas pull the money out when the drama out\nReal nigga put the money down, the drum out\nMillionaire, put the llama out your mama mouth\nTake the money out the damn blouse, you on the couch\nPut the pistol in your daughter mouth, you on the couch\nWe gon' go around the corner with that Glock .50\nPoppin' off about a hundred at these pop niggas\nG-Wagon and I'm G baggin'\nBitch-ass nigga talkin' 'bout he heat clappin'\nAnd I done heard about your pussy ass\nNext time I catch your boy, he rolled up in grass\nCount the cash, count the cash when I'm livin' fast\nSo quick to do the homicide with the mask\nTake the mask off, broad day a nigga\nWhat the fuck you wanna do about that cold killer?\nChain vicious, what's the issue 'bout my damn dawgs?\nMy boy, F.N.F, man that's poppin' off\nLow-key, start to call\nTaboo, motherfucker, tell these niggas we goin' hard\nReal niggas do real things, but all many\nBitch-ass niggas gon' hate, that's all in 'em\nEnvyin' us niggas, that's jealously, all hate\nYou're desperate to see a nigga upstate\nThe real in my eyes couldn't let that shit ride\nD-I-E as a nigga swallow his pride\nNever take my pride or my motherfuckin' stripes\nKnee deep in the bullet, am I, huh?\nThe game be my wife, the lane be my ice\nThe .45 steel but a nigga brain twice\nThat .9 millimeter revolver nigga\nGot that, got that bitch poppin' off, I'll solve you niggas\nShoutouts to them boys who did that time\nTorence Hatch, you my nigga, I did that line\nWhen the first time I seen that boy go to the Earth\nThe first time I seen that boy go to the birth\n.38 Special, a killer, real right\nAnd every day I'm hittin' the block, all night\nF.N.F nigga, fuck niggas finances\nWhile the goddamn gold frame dances\nGriselda, by Fashion Rebels","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: God is Love\n artist: Westside Gunn\n album: (2022) 10\n duration_ms: 321000\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n Conductor\n Woah, ah-hah\n Conductor, we have a problem\n Nackie Chan, wha-ta! (Coño)\n Yo, son\n\n Santo Domingo, helpin' the grasa get to the gringo\n As niggas watchin' us shine like kings, bro (Shining)\n Golden ring glow, a lot of blinging\n No Chingo (Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding)\n All my niggas are dogs like dingo (Woof, woof, woof, woof, woof)\n Call the bitches, the god might mingle (Mommy)\n Pack a forty-fifth and some hard white singles, yeah\n Forty dollars, a head buster, bell ringer\n Rake in the paper\n The stack of chips are tall like Pringles, son (Money)\n Took off a nigga roof and watch the\n Pieces of him lift and fall like shingles (Bah, bah, bah, bah)\n Pop the cork and toast the Veuve Clicquot\n Wе done made this shit work\n Although it's niggas that got exposеd in R.I.C.O. (Yeah)\n Can't believe he did dirt and really told on his people (He folded)\n In the streets, we deal with Os of perico (Word)\n Look at this nigga arm, you can tell by the inside (Uh-huh)\n His only use for it just to poke it with needles and shit (Fuck)\n He want it even more if he know if it's lethal (That's crazy)\n Ayo, we came up (Uh-huh), what, what? Been on my ten toes, yo (Nack)\n I tap the jumper like it's Dominican Dembow bro (Jokin')\n I feel invincible when I sit in the Benzo (Vroom)\n Got uppers and downers, Addies and benzos, yeah\n Diamond dancin' (Uh), nine-hundred and ninety-six grams\n We lost a few in the unwrappin', more in the pan (Yeah)\n Fuck it, the last twelve\n They dropped back like Randall Cunningham (They did)\n I had to hop step on it like Ja Morant (Haha)\n Then them tear pants with the candles (Stove)\n Scorpions on the Carmelo Anthony (Stove)\n They dropped me out the clouds\n I landed in coke water in the kitchen sink (Woo)\n The answer is me (Woo)\n I told the plug \"Make sure it's Tia Landry\n I want it to look like the last one you handed me\" (I do)\n He hopped out swingin' the chopper like a canopy (Brrt, bah, bah)\n I left my soul in the kitchen and my sanity (and my sanity)\n The flip phone do a hundred-grand a week\n Angela Bassett, I had it flamin' in the street (Haha)\n Fork in the pot, you hear the pan tink (Tink)\n Now I move it all hands-free\n My bitch doin' her make-up in the vanity, look like DaniLeigh (She do)\n I bought a Chanel bag, just to ride in a sprinter van full of keys\n\n And when she made it (When she made it)\n When she made it (When she made it)\n We celebrated when she made it\n When she made it, when she made it, Stove\n Peace, God\n God is love, God\n I love God\n Even with the devil on my shoulder\n God is love, FLYGOD is forever\n Big Griselda, bigger villains\n One beginning, one ending\n (Conductor)\n\n Put the flash on him\n Benny the Butcher, man, how you feel, dawg?\n At the top of the world, but it's still all\n My boy Westside Gunn, nigga\n Put me on his damn back, said, \"Get-Get 'em\"\n And never mind what they talkin' 'bout\n Real niggas pull the money out when the drama out\n Real nigga put the money down, the drum out\n Millionaire, put the llama out your mama mouth\n Take the money out the damn blouse, you on the couch\n Put the pistol in your daughter mouth, you on the couch\n We gon' go around the corner with that Glock .50\n Poppin' off about a hundred at these pop niggas\n G-Wagon and I'm G baggin'\n Bitch-ass nigga talkin' 'bout he heat clappin'\n And I done heard about your pussy ass\n Next time I catch your boy, he rolled up in grass\n Count the cash, count the cash when I'm livin' fast\n So quick to do the homicide with the mask\n Take the mask off, broad day a nigga\n What the fuck you wanna do about that cold killer?\n Chain vicious, what's the issue 'bout my damn dawgs?\n My boy, F.N.F, man that's poppin' off\n Low-key, start to call\n Taboo, motherfucker, tell these niggas we goin' hard\n Real niggas do real things, but all many\n Bitch-ass niggas gon' hate, that's all in 'em\n Envyin' us niggas, that's jealously, all hate\n You're desperate to see a nigga upstate\n The real in my eyes couldn't let that shit ride\n D-I-E as a nigga swallow his pride\n Never take my pride or my motherfuckin' stripes\n Knee deep in the bullet, am I, huh?\n The game be my wife, the lane be my ice\n The .45 steel but a nigga brain twice\n That .9 millimeter revolver nigga\n Got that, got that bitch poppin' off, I'll solve you niggas\n Shoutouts to them boys who did that time\n Torence Hatch, you my nigga, I did that line\n When the first time I seen that boy go to the Earth\n The first time I seen that boy go to the birth\n .38 Special, a killer, real right\n And every day I'm hittin' the block, all night\n F.N.F nigga, fuck niggas finances\n While the goddamn gold frame dances\n Griselda, by Fashion Rebels\n"},{"id":15647895,"name":"God Is Love","trackName":"God Is Love","artistName":"Westside Gunn","albumName":"10","duration":321.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Conductor\nWhoa, ah-ha\nConductor, we have a problem\nNackie Chan, wha-ta! Coño\nYo, son\nSanto Domingo, helpin' the grasa get to the gringo\nAs **** watchin' us shine like kings, bro\nShining\nGolden ring glow, a lot of blinging, all chingo\nAll my **** are dogs like dingo\nCall the bitches, the god might mingle\nMommy\nPack a forty-fifth and some hard white singles, yeah\nForty dollars, a head buster, bell-ringer\nRake in the paper, the stack of chips are tall like Pringles, son\nMoney\nTook off a **** roof and watch\nPieces of him lift and fall like shingles\nBah, bah, bah, bah\nPop the cork and toast the Veuve Clicquot\nWe done made this shit work\nAlthough it's **** that got exposed in R.I.C.O\nYeah\nCan't believe he did dirt and really told on his people\nHe folded\nIn the streets, we deal with Os of perico\nWord\nLook at this **** arm, you can tell by the inside\nUh-huh\nHis only use for it, just to poke it with needles and shit\nFuck\nHe want it even more if he know if it's lethal\nThat's crazy\nAye, yo, we came up, what, what? Been on my ten toes, yo\nUh-huh, Nack\nI tap the jumper like it's Dominican Dembow bro\nJoking\nI feel invincible when I sit in the Benzo\nVroom\nGot uppers and downers, Addies and benzos, yeah\nDiamonds dancin', nine-hundred and ninety-six grams\nUh\nWe lost a few in the unwrappin', more in the pan\nYeah\nFuck it, the last twelve, they dropped back like Randall Cunningham\nThey did\nI had to hop step on it like Ja Morant\nHa-ha\nDenim tear pants with the candles\nStove\nScorpions on the Carmelo Anthony\nStove\nThey dropped me out the clouds\nI landed in coke water in the kitchen sink\nWoo\nThe answer is me\nWoo\nI told the plug, \"Make sure it's Tia Landry\nI want it to look like the last one you handed me\"\nI do\nHe hopped out swingin' the chopper like a canopy\nBrrrt, bah, bah, bah\nI left my soul in the kitchen in my sanity\nIn my sanity\nThe flip phone do a hundred grand a week\nAngela Bassett, I had it flamin' in the street\nFork in the pot, you hear the pan tink\nTink, tink\nNow I move it all hands-free\nMy bitch doin' her make-up in the vanity, look like DaniLeigh\nShe do\nI bought a Chanel bag, just to ride in a Sprinter van full of keys\nAnd when she made it\nWhen she made it\nWhen she made it\nWhen she made it\nWe celebrated when she made it\nWhen she made it, when she made it\nStove\nPeace, God\nGod is love, God\nI love God\nEven with the devil on my shoulder\nGod is love, FLYGOD is forever\nBig Griselda, bigger villains\nOne beginning, one ending\nConductor\nPut the flash on him\nBenny the Butcher, man, how you feel, dawg?\nAt the top of the world, but it's still all\nMy boy Westside Gunn, ****\nPut me on his damn back, said, \"Get-get 'em\"\nAnd never mind what they talkin' 'bout\nReal **** pull the money out when the drama out\nReal **** put the money down, the drum out\nMillionaire, put the llama out your mama mouth\nTake the money out the damn bus, you on the couch\nPut the pistol in your daughter mouth, you on the couch\nWe gon' go around the corner with that Glock .50\nPoppin' off about a hundred at these pop ****\nG-Wagon and I'm G baggin'\nBitch-ass **** talkin' 'bout he heat clappin'\nAnd I done heard about yo' pussy ass\nNext time I catch you, boy, you rolled up in grass\nCount the cash, count the cash when I'm livin' fast\nSo quick to do the homicide with the mask\nTake the mask off, broad-day a ****\nWhat the fuck you wanna do about that cold killer?\nChain vicious, what's the issue 'bout my damn dawgs?\nMy boy, F.N.F., man, that's poppin' off\nLow-key, start to call\nTaboo, motherfucker, tell these **** we goin' hard\nReal **** do real things, but all many\nBitch-ass **** gon' hate, that's all in 'em\nEnvyin' us ****, they jealous, they all hate\nYou're desperate to see a **** upstate\nThe real in my eyes couldn't let that shit ride\nD-I-E as a **** swallow his pride\nNever take my pride or my motherfuckin' stripes\nKnee deep in the bullet, am I, huh?\nThe game be my wife, the lane be my ice\nThe .45 steel, but a **** brain twice\nThat .9 millimeter revolve a ****\nGot that, got that bitch poppin' off, 'fore I solve you ****\nShoutin'-outs to them boys who did that time\nTorrence Hatch, you my ****, I did that line\nWhen the first time I seen that boy go to the earth\nThe first time I seen that boy go to the birth\n.38 Special, a killer, real right\nAnd every dime who hatin' the block all night\nF.N.F., ****, fuck ****' finances\nWhile the goddamn gold frame dances\nGriselda\nBy Fashion Rebels\n","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.00]Conductor\n[00:02.87]Whoa, ah-ha\n[00:05.70]Conductor, we have a problem\n[00:06.60]Nackie Chan, wha-ta! Coño\n[00:13.24]Yo, son\n[00:14.90]Santo Domingo, helpin' the grasa get to the gringo\n[00:18.67]As **** watchin' us shine like kings, bro\n[00:21.40]Shining\n[00:22.15]Golden ring glow, a lot of blinging, all chingo\n[00:26.03]All my **** are dogs like dingo\n[00:29.44]Call the bitches, the god might mingle\n[00:31.85]Mommy\n[00:32.49]Pack a forty-fifth and some hard white singles, yeah\n[00:36.19]Forty dollars, a head buster, bell-ringer\n[00:38.97]Rake in the paper, the stack of chips are tall like Pringles, son\n[00:42.45]Money\n[00:43.35]Took off a **** roof and watch\n[00:45.30]Pieces of him lift and fall like shingles\n[00:47.75]Bah, bah, bah, bah\n[00:48.35]Pop the cork and toast the Veuve Clicquot\n[00:51.00]We done made this shit work\n[00:52.25]Although it's **** that got exposed in R.I.C.O\n[00:54.85]Yeah\n[00:55.30]Can't believe he did dirt and really told on his people\n[00:57.93]He folded\n[00:58.45]In the streets, we deal with Os of perico\n[01:00.88]Word\n[01:01.10]Look at this **** arm, you can tell by the inside\n[01:04.05]Uh-huh\n[01:04.42]His only use for it, just to poke it with needles and shit\n[01:07.50]Fuck\n[01:07.87]He want it even more if he know if it's lethal\n[01:10.37]That's crazy\n[01:10.80]Aye, yo, we came up, what, what? Been on my ten toes, yo\n[01:12.30]Uh-huh, Nack\n[01:15.25]I tap the jumper like it's Dominican Dembow bro\n[01:18.40]Joking\n[01:18.75]I feel invincible when I sit in the Benzo\n[01:21.50]Vroom\n[01:21.60]Got uppers and downers, Addies and benzos, yeah\n[01:24.40]Diamonds dancin', nine-hundred and ninety-six grams\n[01:25.30]Uh\n[01:28.16]We lost a few in the unwrappin', more in the pan\n[01:30.75]Yeah\n[01:31.48]Fuck it, the last twelve, they dropped back like Randall Cunningham\n[01:34.08]They did\n[01:35.14]I had to hop step on it like Ja Morant\n[01:37.75]Ha-ha\n[01:38.46]Denim tear pants with the candles\n[01:40.40]Stove\n[01:40.90]Scorpions on the Carmelo Anthony\n[01:42.96]Stove\n[01:43.36]They dropped me out the clouds\n[01:44.59]I landed in coke water in the kitchen sink\n[01:46.86]Woo\n[01:47.35]The answer is me\n[01:48.55]Woo\n[01:49.02]I told the plug, \"Make sure it's Tia Landry\n[01:51.20]I want it to look like the last one you handed me\"\n[01:53.30]I do\n[01:54.30]He hopped out swingin' the chopper like a canopy\n[01:56.90]Brrrt, bah, bah, bah\n[01:57.98]I left my soul in the kitchen in my sanity\n[02:00.48]In my sanity\n[02:01.37]The flip phone do a hundred grand a week\n[02:03.68]Angela Bassett, I had it flamin' in the street\n[02:07.30]Fork in the pot, you hear the pan tink\n[02:09.72]Tink, tink\n[02:10.25]Now I move it all hands-free\n[02:12.13]My bitch doin' her make-up in the vanity, look like DaniLeigh\n[02:15.30]She do\n[02:15.60]I bought a Chanel bag, just to ride in a Sprinter van full of keys\n[02:19.49]And when she made it\n[02:20.61]When she made it\n[02:21.50]When she made it\n[02:22.38]When she made it\n[02:23.77]We celebrated when she made it\n[02:26.62]When she made it, when she made it\n[02:31.46]Stove\n[02:37.81]Peace, God\n[02:39.50]God is love, God\n[02:41.90]I love God\n[02:44.10]Even with the devil on my shoulder\n[02:47.80]God is love, FLYGOD is forever\n[02:51.60]Big Griselda, bigger villains\n[02:55.25]One beginning, one ending\n[02:58.25]Conductor\n[03:02.15]Put the flash on him\n[03:03.58]Benny the Butcher, man, how you feel, dawg?\n[03:06.56]At the top of the world, but it's still all\n[03:09.92]My boy Westside Gunn, ****\n[03:12.31]Put me on his damn back, said, \"Get-get 'em\"\n[03:15.74]And never mind what they talkin' 'bout\n[03:17.75]Real **** pull the money out when the drama out\n[03:20.81]Real **** put the money down, the drum out\n[03:23.63]Millionaire, put the llama out your mama mouth\n[03:26.54]Take the money out the damn bus, you on the couch\n[03:29.55]Put the pistol in your daughter mouth, you on the couch\n[03:32.45]We gon' go around the corner with that Glock .50\n[03:35.33]Poppin' off about a hundred at these pop ****\n[03:38.83]G-Wagon and I'm G baggin'\n[03:41.05]Bitch-ass **** talkin' 'bout he heat clappin'\n[03:44.30]And I done heard about yo' pussy ass\n[03:46.70]Next time I catch you, boy, you rolled up in grass\n[03:49.61]Count the cash, count the cash when I'm livin' fast\n[03:52.55]So quick to do the homicide with the mask\n[03:55.31]Take the mask off, broad-day a ****\n[03:58.15]What the fuck you wanna do about that cold killer?\n[04:01.00]Chain vicious, what's the issue 'bout my damn dawgs?\n[04:04.12]My boy, F.N.F., man, that's poppin' off\n[04:06.78]Low-key, start to call\n[04:08.78]Taboo, motherfucker, tell these **** we goin' hard\n[04:12.17]Real **** do real things, but all many\n[04:15.07]Bitch-ass **** gon' hate, that's all in 'em\n[04:17.95]Envyin' us ****, they jealous, they all hate\n[04:20.60]You're desperate to see a **** upstate\n[04:23.55]The real in my eyes couldn't let that shit ride\n[04:26.58]D-I-E as a **** swallow his pride\n[04:29.40]Never take my pride or my motherfuckin' stripes\n[04:32.30]Knee deep in the bullet, am I, huh?\n[04:35.15]The game be my wife, the lane be my ice\n[04:38.00]The .45 steel, but a **** brain twice\n[04:40.94]That .9 millimeter revolve a ****\n[04:43.41]Got that, got that bitch poppin' off, 'fore I solve you ****\n[04:46.55]Shoutin'-outs to them boys who did that time\n[04:49.42]Torrence Hatch, you my ****, I did that line\n[04:52.29]When the first time I seen that boy go to the earth\n[04:55.25]The first time I seen that boy go to the birth\n[04:58.25].38 Special, a killer, real right\n[05:00.95]And every dime who hatin' the block all night\n[05:04.05]F.N.F., ****, fuck ****' finances\n[05:07.22]While the goddamn gold frame dances\n[05:09.83]Griselda\n[05:12.45]By Fashion Rebels\n[05:21.23]","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: God Is Love\n artist: Westside Gunn\n album: '10'\n duration_ms: 321000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Conductor\n start_ms: 0\n end_ms: 2870\n- text: Whoa, ah-ha\n start_ms: 2870\n end_ms: 5700\n- text: Conductor, we have a problem\n start_ms: 5700\n end_ms: 6600\n- text: Nackie Chan, wha-ta! Coño\n start_ms: 6600\n end_ms: 13240\n- text: Yo, son\n start_ms: 13240\n end_ms: 14900\n- text: Santo Domingo, helpin' the grasa get to the gringo\n start_ms: 14900\n end_ms: 18670\n- text: As **** watchin' us shine like kings, bro\n start_ms: 18670\n end_ms: 21400\n- text: Shining\n start_ms: 21400\n end_ms: 22150\n- text: Golden ring glow, a lot of blinging, all chingo\n start_ms: 22150\n end_ms: 26030\n- text: All my **** are dogs like dingo\n start_ms: 26030\n end_ms: 29440\n- text: Call the bitches, the god might mingle\n start_ms: 29440\n end_ms: 31850\n- text: Mommy\n start_ms: 31850\n end_ms: 32490\n- text: Pack a forty-fifth and some hard white singles, yeah\n start_ms: 32490\n end_ms: 36190\n- text: Forty dollars, a head buster, bell-ringer\n start_ms: 36190\n end_ms: 38970\n- text: Rake in the paper, the stack of chips are tall like Pringles, son\n start_ms: 38970\n end_ms: 42450\n- text: Money\n start_ms: 42450\n end_ms: 43350\n- text: Took off a **** roof and watch\n start_ms: 43350\n end_ms: 45300\n- text: Pieces of him lift and fall like shingles\n start_ms: 45300\n end_ms: 47750\n- text: Bah, bah, bah, bah\n start_ms: 47750\n end_ms: 48350\n- text: Pop the cork and toast the Veuve Clicquot\n start_ms: 48350\n end_ms: 51000\n- text: We done made this shit work\n start_ms: 51000\n end_ms: 52250\n- text: Although it's **** that got exposed in R.I.C.O\n start_ms: 52250\n end_ms: 54850\n- text: Yeah\n start_ms: 54850\n end_ms: 55300\n- text: Can't believe he did dirt and really told on his people\n start_ms: 55300\n end_ms: 57930\n- text: He folded\n start_ms: 57930\n end_ms: 58450\n- text: In the streets, we deal with Os of perico\n start_ms: 58450\n end_ms: 60880\n- text: Word\n start_ms: 60880\n end_ms: 61100\n- text: Look at this **** arm, you can tell by the inside\n start_ms: 61100\n end_ms: 64050\n- text: Uh-huh\n start_ms: 64050\n end_ms: 64420\n- text: His only use for it, just to poke it with needles and shit\n start_ms: 64420\n end_ms: 67500\n- text: Fuck\n start_ms: 67500\n end_ms: 67870\n- text: He want it even more if he know if it's lethal\n start_ms: 67870\n end_ms: 70370\n- text: That's crazy\n start_ms: 70370\n end_ms: 70800\n- text: Aye, yo, we came up, what, what? Been on my ten toes, yo\n start_ms: 70800\n end_ms: 72300\n- text: Uh-huh, Nack\n start_ms: 72300\n end_ms: 75250\n- text: I tap the jumper like it's Dominican Dembow bro\n start_ms: 75250\n end_ms: 78400\n- text: Joking\n start_ms: 78400\n end_ms: 78750\n- text: I feel invincible when I sit in the Benzo\n start_ms: 78750\n end_ms: 81500\n- text: Vroom\n start_ms: 81500\n end_ms: 81600\n- text: Got uppers and downers, Addies and benzos, yeah\n start_ms: 81600\n end_ms: 84400\n- text: Diamonds dancin', nine-hundred and ninety-six grams\n start_ms: 84400\n end_ms: 85300\n- text: Uh\n start_ms: 85300\n end_ms: 88160\n- text: We lost a few in the unwrappin', more in the pan\n start_ms: 88160\n end_ms: 90750\n- text: Yeah\n start_ms: 90750\n end_ms: 91480\n- text: Fuck it, the last twelve, they dropped back like Randall Cunningham\n start_ms: 91480\n end_ms: 94080\n- text: They did\n start_ms: 94080\n end_ms: 95140\n- text: I had to hop step on it like Ja Morant\n start_ms: 95140\n end_ms: 97750\n- text: Ha-ha\n start_ms: 97750\n end_ms: 98460\n- text: Denim tear pants with the candles\n start_ms: 98460\n end_ms: 100400\n- text: Stove\n start_ms: 100400\n end_ms: 100900\n- text: Scorpions on the Carmelo Anthony\n start_ms: 100900\n end_ms: 102960\n- text: Stove\n start_ms: 102960\n end_ms: 103360\n- text: They dropped me out the clouds\n start_ms: 103360\n end_ms: 104590\n- text: I landed in coke water in the kitchen sink\n start_ms: 104590\n end_ms: 106860\n- text: Woo\n start_ms: 106860\n end_ms: 107350\n- text: The answer is me\n start_ms: 107350\n end_ms: 108550\n- text: Woo\n start_ms: 108550\n end_ms: 109020\n- text: I told the plug, \"Make sure it's Tia Landry\n start_ms: 109020\n end_ms: 111200\n- text: I want it to look like the last one you handed me\"\n start_ms: 111200\n end_ms: 113300\n- text: I do\n start_ms: 113300\n end_ms: 114300\n- text: He hopped out swingin' the chopper like a canopy\n start_ms: 114300\n end_ms: 116900\n- text: Brrrt, bah, bah, bah\n start_ms: 116900\n end_ms: 117980\n- text: I left my soul in the kitchen in my sanity\n start_ms: 117980\n end_ms: 120480\n- text: In my sanity\n start_ms: 120480\n end_ms: 121370\n- text: The flip phone do a hundred grand a week\n start_ms: 121370\n end_ms: 123680\n- text: Angela Bassett, I had it flamin' in the street\n start_ms: 123680\n end_ms: 127300\n- text: Fork in the pot, you hear the pan tink\n start_ms: 127300\n end_ms: 129720\n- text: Tink, tink\n start_ms: 129720\n end_ms: 130250\n- text: Now I move it all hands-free\n start_ms: 130250\n end_ms: 132130\n- text: My bitch doin' her make-up in the vanity, look like DaniLeigh\n start_ms: 132130\n end_ms: 135300\n- text: She do\n start_ms: 135300\n end_ms: 135600\n- text: I bought a Chanel bag, just to ride in a Sprinter van full of keys\n start_ms: 135600\n end_ms: 139490\n- text: And when she made it\n start_ms: 139490\n end_ms: 140610\n- text: When she made it\n start_ms: 140610\n end_ms: 141500\n- text: When she made it\n start_ms: 141500\n end_ms: 142380\n- text: When she made it\n start_ms: 142380\n end_ms: 143770\n- text: We celebrated when she made it\n start_ms: 143770\n end_ms: 146620\n- text: When she made it, when she made it\n start_ms: 146620\n end_ms: 151460\n- text: Stove\n start_ms: 151460\n end_ms: 157810\n- text: Peace, God\n start_ms: 157810\n end_ms: 159500\n- text: God is love, God\n start_ms: 159500\n end_ms: 161900\n- text: I love God\n start_ms: 161900\n end_ms: 164100\n- text: Even with the devil on my shoulder\n start_ms: 164100\n end_ms: 167800\n- text: God is love, FLYGOD is forever\n start_ms: 167800\n end_ms: 171600\n- text: Big Griselda, bigger villains\n start_ms: 171600\n end_ms: 175250\n- text: One beginning, one ending\n start_ms: 175250\n end_ms: 178250\n- text: Conductor\n start_ms: 178250\n end_ms: 182150\n- text: Put the flash on him\n start_ms: 182150\n end_ms: 183580\n- text: Benny the Butcher, man, how you feel, dawg?\n start_ms: 183580\n end_ms: 186560\n- text: At the top of the world, but it's still all\n start_ms: 186560\n end_ms: 189920\n- text: My boy Westside Gunn, ****\n start_ms: 189920\n end_ms: 192310\n- text: Put me on his damn back, said, \"Get-get 'em\"\n start_ms: 192310\n end_ms: 195740\n- text: And never mind what they talkin' 'bout\n start_ms: 195740\n end_ms: 197750\n- text: Real **** pull the money out when the drama out\n start_ms: 197750\n end_ms: 200810\n- text: Real **** put the money down, the drum out\n start_ms: 200810\n end_ms: 203630\n- text: Millionaire, put the llama out your mama mouth\n start_ms: 203630\n end_ms: 206540\n- text: Take the money out the damn bus, you on the couch\n start_ms: 206540\n end_ms: 209550\n- text: Put the pistol in your daughter mouth, you on the couch\n start_ms: 209550\n end_ms: 212450\n- text: We gon' go around the corner with that Glock .50\n start_ms: 212450\n end_ms: 215330\n- text: Poppin' off about a hundred at these pop ****\n start_ms: 215330\n end_ms: 218830\n- text: G-Wagon and I'm G baggin'\n start_ms: 218830\n end_ms: 221050\n- text: Bitch-ass **** talkin' 'bout he heat clappin'\n start_ms: 221050\n end_ms: 224300\n- text: And I done heard about yo' pussy ass\n start_ms: 224300\n end_ms: 226700\n- text: Next time I catch you, boy, you rolled up in grass\n start_ms: 226700\n end_ms: 229610\n- text: Count the cash, count the cash when I'm livin' fast\n start_ms: 229610\n end_ms: 232550\n- text: So quick to do the homicide with the mask\n start_ms: 232550\n end_ms: 235310\n- text: Take the mask off, broad-day a ****\n start_ms: 235310\n end_ms: 238150\n- text: What the fuck you wanna do about that cold killer?\n start_ms: 238150\n end_ms: 241000\n- text: Chain vicious, what's the issue 'bout my damn dawgs?\n start_ms: 241000\n end_ms: 244120\n- text: My boy, F.N.F., man, that's poppin' off\n start_ms: 244120\n end_ms: 246780\n- text: Low-key, start to call\n start_ms: 246780\n end_ms: 248780\n- text: Taboo, motherfucker, tell these **** we goin' hard\n start_ms: 248780\n end_ms: 252170\n- text: Real **** do real things, but all many\n start_ms: 252170\n end_ms: 255070\n- text: Bitch-ass **** gon' hate, that's all in 'em\n start_ms: 255070\n end_ms: 257950\n- text: Envyin' us ****, they jealous, they all hate\n start_ms: 257950\n end_ms: 260600\n- text: You're desperate to see a **** upstate\n start_ms: 260600\n end_ms: 263550\n- text: The real in my eyes couldn't let that shit ride\n start_ms: 263550\n end_ms: 266580\n- text: D-I-E as a **** swallow his pride\n start_ms: 266580\n end_ms: 269400\n- text: Never take my pride or my motherfuckin' stripes\n start_ms: 269400\n end_ms: 272300\n- text: Knee deep in the bullet, am I, huh?\n start_ms: 272300\n end_ms: 275150\n- text: The game be my wife, the lane be my ice\n start_ms: 275150\n end_ms: 278000\n- text: The .45 steel, but a **** brain twice\n start_ms: 278000\n end_ms: 280940\n- text: That .9 millimeter revolve a ****\n start_ms: 280940\n end_ms: 283410\n- text: Got that, got that bitch poppin' off, 'fore I solve you ****\n start_ms: 283410\n end_ms: 286550\n- text: Shoutin'-outs to them boys who did that time\n start_ms: 286550\n end_ms: 289420\n- text: Torrence Hatch, you my ****, I did that line\n start_ms: 289420\n end_ms: 292290\n- text: When the first time I seen that boy go to the earth\n start_ms: 292290\n end_ms: 295250\n- text: The first time I seen that boy go to the birth\n start_ms: 295250\n end_ms: 298250\n- text: .38 Special, a killer, real right\n start_ms: 298250\n end_ms: 300950\n- text: And every dime who hatin' the block all night\n start_ms: 300950\n end_ms: 304050\n- text: F.N.F., ****, fuck ****' finances\n start_ms: 304050\n end_ms: 307220\n- text: While the goddamn gold frame dances\n start_ms: 307220\n end_ms: 309830\n- text: Griselda\n start_ms: 309830\n end_ms: 312450\n- text: By Fashion Rebels\n start_ms: 312450\n end_ms: 321230\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 321230\nplain: |\n Conductor\n Whoa, ah-ha\n Conductor, we have a problem\n Nackie Chan, wha-ta! Coño\n Yo, son\n Santo Domingo, helpin' the grasa get to the gringo\n As **** watchin' us shine like kings, bro\n Shining\n Golden ring glow, a lot of blinging, all chingo\n All my **** are dogs like dingo\n Call the bitches, the god might mingle\n Mommy\n Pack a forty-fifth and some hard white singles, yeah\n Forty dollars, a head buster, bell-ringer\n Rake in the paper, the stack of chips are tall like Pringles, son\n Money\n Took off a **** roof and watch\n Pieces of him lift and fall like shingles\n Bah, bah, bah, bah\n Pop the cork and toast the Veuve Clicquot\n We done made this shit work\n Although it's **** that got exposed in R.I.C.O\n Yeah\n Can't believe he did dirt and really told on his people\n He folded\n In the streets, we deal with Os of perico\n Word\n Look at this **** arm, you can tell by the inside\n Uh-huh\n His only use for it, just to poke it with needles and shit\n Fuck\n He want it even more if he know if it's lethal\n That's crazy\n Aye, yo, we came up, what, what? Been on my ten toes, yo\n Uh-huh, Nack\n I tap the jumper like it's Dominican Dembow bro\n Joking\n I feel invincible when I sit in the Benzo\n Vroom\n Got uppers and downers, Addies and benzos, yeah\n Diamonds dancin', nine-hundred and ninety-six grams\n Uh\n We lost a few in the unwrappin', more in the pan\n Yeah\n Fuck it, the last twelve, they dropped back like Randall Cunningham\n They did\n I had to hop step on it like Ja Morant\n Ha-ha\n Denim tear pants with the candles\n Stove\n Scorpions on the Carmelo Anthony\n Stove\n They dropped me out the clouds\n I landed in coke water in the kitchen sink\n Woo\n The answer is me\n Woo\n I told the plug, \"Make sure it's Tia Landry\n I want it to look like the last one you handed me\"\n I do\n He hopped out swingin' the chopper like a canopy\n Brrrt, bah, bah, bah\n I left my soul in the kitchen in my sanity\n In my sanity\n The flip phone do a hundred grand a week\n Angela Bassett, I had it flamin' in the street\n Fork in the pot, you hear the pan tink\n Tink, tink\n Now I move it all hands-free\n My bitch doin' her make-up in the vanity, look like DaniLeigh\n She do\n I bought a Chanel bag, just to ride in a Sprinter van full of keys\n And when she made it\n When she made it\n When she made it\n When she made it\n We celebrated when she made it\n When she made it, when she made it\n Stove\n Peace, God\n God is love, God\n I love God\n Even with the devil on my shoulder\n God is love, FLYGOD is forever\n Big Griselda, bigger villains\n One beginning, one ending\n Conductor\n Put the flash on him\n Benny the Butcher, man, how you feel, dawg?\n At the top of the world, but it's still all\n My boy Westside Gunn, ****\n Put me on his damn back, said, \"Get-get 'em\"\n And never mind what they talkin' 'bout\n Real **** pull the money out when the drama out\n Real **** put the money down, the drum out\n Millionaire, put the llama out your mama mouth\n Take the money out the damn bus, you on the couch\n Put the pistol in your daughter mouth, you on the couch\n We gon' go around the corner with that Glock .50\n Poppin' off about a hundred at these pop ****\n G-Wagon and I'm G baggin'\n Bitch-ass **** talkin' 'bout he heat clappin'\n And I done heard about yo' pussy ass\n Next time I catch you, boy, you rolled up in grass\n Count the cash, count the cash when I'm livin' fast\n So quick to do the homicide with the mask\n Take the mask off, broad-day a ****\n What the fuck you wanna do about that cold killer?\n Chain vicious, what's the issue 'bout my damn dawgs?\n My boy, F.N.F., man, that's poppin' off\n Low-key, start to call\n Taboo, motherfucker, tell these **** we goin' hard\n Real **** do real things, but all many\n Bitch-ass **** gon' hate, that's all in 'em\n Envyin' us ****, they jealous, they all hate\n You're desperate to see a **** upstate\n The real in my eyes couldn't let that shit ride\n D-I-E as a **** swallow his pride\n Never take my pride or my motherfuckin' stripes\n Knee deep in the bullet, am I, huh?\n The game be my wife, the lane be my ice\n The .45 steel, but a **** brain twice\n That .9 millimeter revolve a ****\n Got that, got that bitch poppin' off, 'fore I solve you ****\n Shoutin'-outs to them boys who did that time\n Torrence Hatch, you my ****, I did that line\n When the first time I seen that boy go to the earth\n The first time I seen that boy go to the birth\n .38 Special, a killer, real right\n And every dime who hatin' the block all night\n F.N.F., ****, fuck ****' finances\n While the goddamn gold frame dances\n Griselda\n By Fashion Rebels\n"},{"id":2185519,"name":"Dance Floor Love","trackName":"Dance Floor Love","artistName":"Westside Gunn","albumName":"Flygod Is an Awesome God","duration":81.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":true,"plainLyrics":"Come here bitch\nA yo, I only had to see you once to fall in love with you\nI did my bid, you held me down, I had to fuck with you\nWe would fuck anywhere\nCocaine powder on the dinner plate\nI had to back up, you got the dinner straight\nBody looking banging in that Wang\nSucker, why you look at me, last time I came I missed the plane\nMiss my baby when I'm out on tour\nJust loyalty I hope for\nI came home and copped the Rolls Royce\nWe out in Vegas, Porsche 1961\nLaid us three bottles of Ace\nWe got faded talked 'til the sun came up\nI promised you the biggest house ever\nThen walked up in Barneys and copped us leathers\nYou lost your mind on Rodeo\nYou lost your mind at Bal Harbor\nBend over all you see is pussy\nYou got me licking from the back\nAnybody fuck this, y'all get the MAC (get the MAC)\nGet 32 shots for you pussy (32 shots for a pussy)","syncedLyrics":"[00:04.83] Come here bitch\n[00:11.84] A yo, I only had to see you once to fall in love with you\n[00:15.58] I did my bid, you held me down, I had to fuck with you\n[00:18.15] We would fuck anywhere\n[00:19.55] Cocaine powder on the dinner plate\n[00:22.05] I had to back up, you got the dinner straight\n[00:24.40] Body looking banging in that Wang\n[00:26.58] Sucker, why you look at me, last time I came I missed the plane\n[00:30.54] Miss my baby when I'm out on tour\n[00:32.37] Just loyalty I hope for\n[00:34.66] I came home and copped the Rolls Royce\n[00:37.20] We out in Vegas, Porsche 1961\n[00:40.36] Laid us three bottles of Ace\n[00:42.42] We got faded talked 'til the sun came up\n[00:44.71] I promised you the biggest house ever\n[00:46.98] Then walked up in Barneys and copped us leathers\n[00:49.70] You lost your mind on Rodeo\n[00:52.19] You lost your mind at Bal Harbor\n[00:55.58] Bend over all you see is pussy\n[00:57.83] You got me licking from the back\n[00:59.17] Anybody fuck this, y'all get the MAC (get the MAC)\n[01:05.41] Get 32 shots for you pussy (32 shots for a pussy)","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Dance Floor Love\n artist: Westside Gunn\n album: Flygod Is an Awesome God\n duration_ms: 81000\n instrumental: false\n language: en\nlines:\n- text: King of love\n 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27320\n end_ms: 30890\n words:\n - text: 'Sucker '\n start_ms: 27320\n - text: 'when '\n start_ms: 27900\n - text: 'you '\n start_ms: 28100\n - text: 'look '\n start_ms: 28280\n - text: 'at '\n start_ms: 28620\n - text: 'me, '\n start_ms: 28800\n - text: 'last '\n start_ms: 28980\n - text: 'time '\n start_ms: 29300\n - text: 'I '\n start_ms: 29540\n - text: 'came, '\n start_ms: 29680\n - text: 'I '\n start_ms: 29980\n - text: 'missed '\n start_ms: 30080\n - text: 'the '\n start_ms: 30300\n - text: 'plane '\n start_ms: 30460\n - text: '(was '\n start_ms: 30800\n - text: 'my '\n start_ms: 30867\n - text: name)\n start_ms: 30882\n- text: Miss my baby when I'm out on tour, just loyalty I hope for (hmm hmm)\n start_ms: 30930\n end_ms: 35320\n words:\n - text: 'Miss '\n start_ms: 30930\n - text: 'my '\n start_ms: 31287\n - text: 'baby '\n start_ms: 31505\n - text: 'when '\n start_ms: 31842\n - text: 'I''m '\n start_ms: 32020\n - text: 'out '\n start_ms: 32198\n - text: 'on '\n start_ms: 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'Vegas, '\n start_ms: 38270\n - text: 'Porche '\n start_ms: 38830\n - text: '1961 '\n start_ms: 39170\n - text: '(king '\n start_ms: 39850\n - text: 'of '\n start_ms: 40330\n - text: love)\n start_ms: 40370\n- text: Laid us three bottles of ace, we got faded (was my name)\n start_ms: 40590\n end_ms: 43410\n words:\n - text: 'Laid '\n start_ms: 40590\n - text: 'us '\n start_ms: 40919\n - text: 'three '\n start_ms: 41094\n - text: 'bottles '\n start_ms: 41423\n - text: 'of '\n start_ms: 41734\n - text: 'ace, '\n start_ms: 42005\n - text: 'we '\n start_ms: 42548\n - text: 'got '\n start_ms: 42683\n - text: 'faded '\n start_ms: 42993\n - text: '(was '\n start_ms: 43342\n - text: 'my '\n start_ms: 43388\n - text: name)\n start_ms: 43402\n- text: Talked 'til the sun came up, I promised you the biggest house ever (I always won)\n start_ms: 43410\n end_ms: 47420\n words:\n - text: 'Talked '\n start_ms: 43410\n - text: '''til '\n start_ms: 43730\n - text: 'the '\n start_ms: 43890\n - text: 'sun '\n start_ms: 44050\n - text: 'came '\n start_ms: 44370\n - text: 'up, '\n start_ms: 44690\n - text: 'I '\n start_ms: 45150\n - text: 'promised '\n start_ms: 45290\n - text: 'you '\n start_ms: 45730\n - text: 'the '\n start_ms: 45890\n - text: 'biggest '\n start_ms: 46090\n - text: 'house '\n start_ms: 46490\n - text: 'ever '\n start_ms: 46930\n - text: '(I '\n start_ms: 47210\n - text: 'always '\n start_ms: 47259\n - text: won)\n start_ms: 47355\n- text: Then walked up in Barneys and copped these leathers (in everything yeah)\n start_ms: 47430\n end_ms: 50130\n words:\n - text: 'Then '\n start_ms: 47430\n - text: 'walked '\n start_ms: 47710\n - text: 'up '\n start_ms: 47970\n - text: 'in '\n start_ms: 48090\n - text: 'Barneys '\n start_ms: 48270\n - text: 'and '\n start_ms: 48650\n - text: 'copped '\n start_ms: 48790\n - text: 'these '\n start_ms: 49090\n - text: 'leathers '\n start_ms: 49270\n - text: '(in '\n start_ms: 49570\n - text: 'everything '\n start_ms: 49730\n - text: yeah)\n start_ms: 49930\n- text: You lost your mind on Rodeo (king of love, you lost your mind on Rodeo)\n start_ms: 50170\n end_ms: 52640\n words:\n - text: 'You '\n start_ms: 50170\n - text: 'lost '\n start_ms: 50370\n - text: 'your '\n start_ms: 50670\n - text: 'mind '\n start_ms: 50810\n - text: 'on '\n start_ms: 51150\n - text: 'Rodeo '\n start_ms: 51166\n - text: '(king '\n start_ms: 51182\n - text: 'of '\n start_ms: 51250\n - text: 'love, '\n start_ms: 51390\n - text: 'you '\n start_ms: 51870\n - text: 'lost '\n start_ms: 51990\n - text: 'your '\n start_ms: 52230\n - text: 'mind '\n start_ms: 52350\n - text: 'on '\n start_ms: 52510\n - text: Rodeo)\n start_ms: 52596\n- text: You lost your mind about Harper (was my name, you lost your mind about Harper)\n start_ms: 52650\n end_ms: 55920\n words:\n - text: 'You '\n start_ms: 52650\n - text: 'lost '\n start_ms: 52748\n - text: 'your '\n start_ms: 53001\n - text: 'mind '\n start_ms: 53138\n - text: 'about '\n start_ms: 53411\n - 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'(I '\n start_ms: 59681\n - text: 'always '\n start_ms: 59800\n - text: won)\n start_ms: 59813\n- text: Anybody fuck this, y'all get the MAC get the MAC (in everything)\n start_ms: 59820\n end_ms: 63800\n words:\n - text: 'Anybody '\n start_ms: 59820\n - text: 'fuck '\n start_ms: 60420\n - text: 'this, '\n start_ms: 60720\n - text: 'y''all '\n start_ms: 61120\n - text: 'get '\n start_ms: 61340\n - text: 'the '\n start_ms: 61540\n - text: 'MAC '\n start_ms: 61720\n - text: 'get '\n start_ms: 62100\n - text: 'the '\n start_ms: 62360\n - text: 'MAC '\n start_ms: 62540\n - text: '(in '\n start_ms: 63400\n - text: everything)\n start_ms: 63649\n- text: King of love\n start_ms: 63880\n end_ms: 66390\n words:\n - text: 'King '\n start_ms: 63880\n - text: 'of '\n start_ms: 64098\n - text: love\n start_ms: 64376\n- text: Was my name (get 32 shots for the pussy 32 shots for the pussy)\n start_ms: 66390\n end_ms: 69700\n words:\n - text: 'Was '\n start_ms: 66390\n - text: 'my '\n start_ms: 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start_ms: 76060\nplain: |-\n Come here bitch\n A yo, I only had to see you once to fall in love with you\n I did my bid, you held me down, I had to fuck with you\n We would fuck anywhere\n Cocaine powder on the dinner plate\n I had to back up, you got the dinner straight\n Body looking banging in that Wang\n Sucker, why you look at me, last time I came I missed the plane\n Miss my baby when I'm out on tour\n Just loyalty I hope for\n I came home and copped the Rolls Royce\n We out in Vegas, Porsche 1961\n Laid us three bottles of Ace\n We got faded talked 'til the sun came up\n I promised you the biggest house ever\n Then walked up in Barneys and copped us leathers\n You lost your mind on Rodeo\n You lost your mind at Bal Harbor\n Bend over all you see is pussy\n You got me licking from the back\n Anybody fuck this, y'all get the MAC (get the MAC)\n Get 32 shots for you pussy (32 shots for a pussy)\n"},{"id":17940304,"name":"God Is Love (Feat. Estee Nack, Keisha Plum & Stove God Cooks)","trackName":"God Is Love (Feat. Estee Nack, Keisha Plum & Stove God Cooks)","artistName":"Westside Gunn","albumName":"10","duration":321.214286,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Conductor\nWoah, ah-hah\nConductor, we have a problem\nNackie Chan, wha-ta! (Coño)\nYo, son\n\nSanto Domingo, helpin' the grasa get to the gringo\nAs niggas watchin' us shine like kings, bro (Shining)\nGolden ring glow, a lot of blinging\nNo Chingo (Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding)\nAll my niggas are dogs like dingo (Woof, woof, woof, woof, woof)\nCall the bitches, the god might mingle (Mommy)\nPack a forty-fifth and some hard white singles, yeah\nForty dollars, a head buster, bell ringer\nRake in the paper\nThe stack of chips are tall like Pringles, son (Money)\nTook off a nigga roof and watch the\nPieces of him lift and fall like shingles (Bah, bah, bah, bah)\nPop the cork and toast the Veuve Clicquot\nWе done made this shit work\nAlthough it's niggas that got exposеd in R.I.C.O. (Yeah)\nCan't believe he did dirt and really told on his people (He folded)\nIn the streets, we deal with Os of perico (Word)\nLook at this nigga arm, you can tell by the inside (Uh-huh)\nHis only use for it just to poke it with needles and shit (Fuck)\nHe want it even more if he know if it's lethal (That's crazy)\nAyo, we came up (Uh-huh), what, what? Been on my ten toes, yo (Nack)\nI tap the jumper like it's Dominican Dembow bro (Jokin')\nI feel invincible when I sit in the Benzo (Vroom)\nGot uppers and downers, Addies and benzos, yeah\nDiamond dancin' (Uh), nine-hundred and ninety-six grams\nWe lost a few in the unwrappin', more in the pan (Yeah)\nFuck it, the last twelve\nThey dropped back like Randall Cunningham (They did)\nI had to hop step on it like Ja Morant (Haha)\nThen them tear pants with the candles (Stove)\nScorpions on the Carmelo Anthony (Stove)\nThey dropped me out the clouds\nI landed in coke water in the kitchen sink (Woo)\nThe answer is me (Woo)\nI told the plug \"Make sure it's Tia Landry\nI want it to look like the last one you handed me\" (I do)\nHe hopped out swingin' the chopper like a canopy (Brrt, bah, bah)\nI left my soul in the kitchen and my sanity (and my sanity)\nThe flip phone do a hundred-grand a week\nAngela Bassett, I had it flamin' in the street (Haha)\nFork in the pot, you hear the pan tink (Tink)\nNow I move it all hands-free\nMy bitch doin' her make-up in the vanity, look like DaniLeigh (She do)\nI bought a Chanel bag, just to ride in a sprinter van full of keys\n\nAnd when she made it (When she made it)\nWhen she made it (When she made it)\nWe celebrated when she made it\nWhen she made it, when she made it, Stove\nPeace, God\nGod is love, God\nI love God\nEven with the devil on my shoulder\nGod is love, FLYGOD is forever\nBig Griselda, bigger villains\nOne beginning, one ending\n(Conductor)\n\nPut the flash on him\nBenny the Butcher, man, how you feel, dawg?\nAt the top of the world, but it's still all\nMy boy Westside Gunn, nigga\nPut me on his damn back, said, \"Get-Get 'em\"\nAnd never mind what they talkin' 'bout\nReal niggas pull the money out when the drama out\nReal nigga put the money down, the drum out\nMillionaire, put the llama out your mama mouth\nTake the money out the damn blouse, you on the couch\nPut the pistol in your daughter mouth, you on the couch\nWe gon' go around the corner with that Glock .50\nPoppin' off about a hundred at these pop niggas\nG-Wagon and I'm G baggin'\nBitch-ass nigga talkin' 'bout he heat clappin'\nAnd I done heard about your pussy ass\nNext time I catch your boy, he rolled up in grass\nCount the cash, count the cash when I'm livin' fast\nSo quick to do the homicide with the mask\nTake the mask off, broad day a nigga\nWhat the fuck you wanna do about that cold killer?\nChain vicious, what's the issue 'bout my damn dawgs?\nMy boy, F.N.F, man that's poppin' off\nLow-key, start to call\nTaboo, motherfucker, tell these niggas we goin' hard\nReal niggas do real things, but all many\nBitch-ass niggas gon' hate, that's all in 'em\nEnvyin' us niggas, that's jealously, all hate\nYou're desperate to see a nigga upstate\nThe real in my eyes couldn't let that shit ride\nD-I-E as a nigga swallow his pride\nNever take my pride or my motherfuckin' stripes\nKnee deep in the bullet, am I, huh?\nThe game be my wife, the lane be my ice\nThe .45 steel but a nigga brain twice\nThat .9 millimeter revolver nigga\nGot that, got that bitch poppin' off, I'll solve you niggas\nShoutouts to them boys who did that time\nTorence Hatch, you my nigga, I did that line\nWhen the first time I seen that boy go to the Earth\nThe first time I seen that boy go to the birth\n.38 Special, a killer, real right\nAnd every day I'm hittin' the block, all night\nF.N.F nigga, fuck niggas finances\nWhile the goddamn gold frame dances\nGriselda, by Fashion Rebels","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: God Is Love (Feat. Estee Nack, Keisha Plum & Stove God Cooks)\n artist: Westside Gunn\n album: '10'\n duration_ms: 321214\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n Conductor\n Woah, ah-hah\n Conductor, we have a problem\n Nackie Chan, wha-ta! (Coño)\n Yo, son\n\n Santo Domingo, helpin' the grasa get to the gringo\n As niggas watchin' us shine like kings, bro (Shining)\n Golden ring glow, a lot of blinging\n No Chingo (Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding)\n All my niggas are dogs like dingo (Woof, woof, woof, woof, woof)\n Call the bitches, the god might mingle (Mommy)\n Pack a forty-fifth and some hard white singles, yeah\n Forty dollars, a head buster, bell ringer\n Rake in the paper\n The stack of chips are tall like Pringles, son (Money)\n Took off a nigga roof and watch the\n Pieces of him lift and fall like shingles (Bah, bah, bah, bah)\n Pop the cork and toast the Veuve Clicquot\n Wе done made this shit work\n Although it's niggas that got exposеd in R.I.C.O. (Yeah)\n Can't believe he did dirt and really told on his people (He folded)\n In the streets, we deal with Os of perico (Word)\n Look at this nigga arm, you can tell by the inside (Uh-huh)\n His only use for it just to poke it with needles and shit (Fuck)\n He want it even more if he know if it's lethal (That's crazy)\n Ayo, we came up (Uh-huh), what, what? Been on my ten toes, yo (Nack)\n I tap the jumper like it's Dominican Dembow bro (Jokin')\n I feel invincible when I sit in the Benzo (Vroom)\n Got uppers and downers, Addies and benzos, yeah\n Diamond dancin' (Uh), nine-hundred and ninety-six grams\n We lost a few in the unwrappin', more in the pan (Yeah)\n Fuck it, the last twelve\n They dropped back like Randall Cunningham (They did)\n I had to hop step on it like Ja Morant (Haha)\n Then them tear pants with the candles (Stove)\n Scorpions on the Carmelo Anthony (Stove)\n They dropped me out the clouds\n I landed in coke water in the kitchen sink (Woo)\n The answer is me (Woo)\n I told the plug \"Make sure it's Tia Landry\n I want it to look like the last one you handed me\" (I do)\n He hopped out swingin' the chopper like a canopy (Brrt, bah, bah)\n I left my soul in the kitchen and my sanity (and my sanity)\n The flip phone do a hundred-grand a week\n Angela Bassett, I had it flamin' in the street (Haha)\n Fork in the pot, you hear the pan tink (Tink)\n Now I move it all hands-free\n My bitch doin' her make-up in the vanity, look like DaniLeigh (She do)\n I bought a Chanel bag, just to ride in a sprinter van full of keys\n\n And when she made it (When she made it)\n When she made it (When she made it)\n We celebrated when she made it\n When she made it, when she made it, Stove\n Peace, God\n God is love, God\n I love God\n Even with the devil on my shoulder\n God is love, FLYGOD is forever\n Big Griselda, bigger villains\n One beginning, one ending\n (Conductor)\n\n Put the flash on him\n Benny the Butcher, man, how you feel, dawg?\n At the top of the world, but it's still all\n My boy Westside Gunn, nigga\n Put me on his damn back, said, \"Get-Get 'em\"\n And never mind what they talkin' 'bout\n Real niggas pull the money out when the drama out\n Real nigga put the money down, the drum out\n Millionaire, put the llama out your mama mouth\n Take the money out the damn blouse, you on the couch\n Put the pistol in your daughter mouth, you on the couch\n We gon' go around the corner with that Glock .50\n Poppin' off about a hundred at these pop niggas\n G-Wagon and I'm G baggin'\n Bitch-ass nigga talkin' 'bout he heat clappin'\n And I done heard about your pussy ass\n Next time I catch your boy, he rolled up in grass\n Count the cash, count the cash when I'm livin' fast\n So quick to do the homicide with the mask\n Take the mask off, broad day a nigga\n What the fuck you wanna do about that cold killer?\n Chain vicious, what's the issue 'bout my damn dawgs?\n My boy, F.N.F, man that's poppin' off\n Low-key, start to call\n Taboo, motherfucker, tell these niggas we goin' hard\n Real niggas do real things, but all many\n Bitch-ass niggas gon' hate, that's all in 'em\n Envyin' us niggas, that's jealously, all hate\n You're desperate to see a nigga upstate\n The real in my eyes couldn't let that shit ride\n D-I-E as a nigga swallow his pride\n Never take my pride or my motherfuckin' stripes\n Knee deep in the bullet, am I, huh?\n The game be my wife, the lane be my ice\n The .45 steel but a nigga brain twice\n That .9 millimeter revolver nigga\n Got that, got that bitch poppin' off, I'll solve you niggas\n Shoutouts to them boys who did that time\n Torence Hatch, you my nigga, I did that line\n When the first time I seen that boy go to the Earth\n The first time I seen that boy go to the birth\n .38 Special, a killer, real right\n And every day I'm hittin' the block, all night\n F.N.F nigga, fuck niggas finances\n While the goddamn gold frame dances\n Griselda, by Fashion Rebels\n"},{"id":15274400,"name":"God Is Love (feat. Estee Nack, Stove God Cooks, & Keisha Plum)","trackName":"God Is Love (feat. Estee Nack, Stove God Cooks, & Keisha Plum)","artistName":"Westside Gunn","albumName":"10","duration":321.2142848,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Conductor\nWoah, ah-hah\nConductor, we have a problem\nNackie Chan, wha-ta! (Coño)\nYo, son\n\nSanto Domingo, helpin' the grasa get to the gringo\nAs niggas watchin' us shine like kings, bro (Shining)\nGolden ring glow, a lot of blinging\nNo Chingo (Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding)\nAll my niggas are dogs like dingo (Woof, woof, woof, woof, woof)\nCall the bitches, the god might mingle (Mommy)\nPack a forty-fifth and some hard white singles, yeah\nForty dollars, a head buster, bell ringer\nRake in the paper\nThe stack of chips are tall like Pringles, son (Money)\nTook off a nigga roof and watch the\nPieces of him lift and fall like shingles (Bah, bah, bah, bah)\nPop the cork and toast the Veuve Clicquot\nWе done made this shit work\nAlthough it's niggas that got exposеd in R.I.C.O. (Yeah)\nCan't believe he did dirt and really told on his people (He folded)\nIn the streets, we deal with Os of perico (Word)\nLook at this nigga arm, you can tell by the inside (Uh-huh)\nHis only use for it just to poke it with needles and shit (Fuck)\nHe want it even more if he know if it's lethal (That's crazy)\nAyo, we came up (Uh-huh), what, what? Been on my ten toes, yo (Nack)\nI tap the jumper like it's Dominican Dembow bro (Jokin')\nI feel invincible when I sit in the Benzo (Vroom)\nGot uppers and downers, Addies and benzos, yeah\nDiamond dancin' (Uh), nine-hundred and ninety-six grams\nWe lost a few in the unwrappin', more in the pan (Yeah)\nFuck it, the last twelve\nThey dropped back like Randall Cunningham (They did)\nI had to hop step on it like Ja Morant (Haha)\nThen them tear pants with the candles (Stove)\nScorpions on the Carmelo Anthony (Stove)\nThey dropped me out the clouds\nI landed in coke water in the kitchen sink (Woo)\nThe answer is me (Woo)\nI told the plug \"Make sure it's Tia Landry\nI want it to look like the last one you handed me\" (I do)\nHe hopped out swingin' the chopper like a canopy (Brrt, bah, bah)\nI left my soul in the kitchen and my sanity (and my sanity)\nThe flip phone do a hundred-grand a week\nAngela Bassett, I had it flamin' in the street (Haha)\nFork in the pot, you hear the pan tink (Tink)\nNow I move it all hands-free\nMy bitch doin' her make-up in the vanity, look like DaniLeigh (She do)\nI bought a Chanel bag, just to ride in a sprinter van full of keys\n\nAnd when she made it (When she made it)\nWhen she made it (When she made it)\nWe celebrated when she made it\nWhen she made it, when she made it, Stove\nPeace, God\nGod is love, God\nI love God\nEven with the devil on my shoulder\nGod is love, FLYGOD is forever\nBig Griselda, bigger villains\nOne beginning, one ending\n(Conductor)\n\nPut the flash on him\nBenny the Butcher, man, how you feel, dawg?\nAt the top of the world, but it's still all\nMy boy Westside Gunn, nigga\nPut me on his damn back, said, \"Get-Get 'em\"\nAnd never mind what they talkin' 'bout\nReal niggas pull the money out when the drama out\nReal nigga put the money down, the drum out\nMillionaire, put the llama out your mama mouth\nTake the money out the damn blouse, you on the couch\nPut the pistol in your daughter mouth, you on the couch\nWe gon' go around the corner with that Glock .50\nPoppin' off about a hundred at these pop niggas\nG-Wagon and I'm G baggin'\nBitch-ass nigga talkin' 'bout he heat clappin'\nAnd I done heard about your pussy ass\nNext time I catch your boy, he rolled up in grass\nCount the cash, count the cash when I'm livin' fast\nSo quick to do the homicide with the mask\nTake the mask off, broad day a nigga\nWhat the fuck you wanna do about that cold killer?\nChain vicious, what's the issue 'bout my damn dawgs?\nMy boy, F.N.F, man that's poppin' off\nLow-key, start to call\nTaboo, motherfucker, tell these niggas we goin' hard\nReal niggas do real things, but all many\nBitch-ass niggas gon' hate, that's all in 'em\nEnvyin' us niggas, that's jealously, all hate\nYou're desperate to see a nigga upstate\nThe real in my eyes couldn't let that shit ride\nD-I-E as a nigga swallow his pride\nNever take my pride or my motherfuckin' stripes\nKnee deep in the bullet, am I, huh?\nThe game be my wife, the lane be my ice\nThe .45 steel but a nigga brain twice\nThat .9 millimeter revolver nigga\nGot that, got that bitch poppin' off, I'll solve you niggas\nShoutouts to them boys who did that time\nTorence Hatch, you my nigga, I did that line\nWhen the first time I seen that boy go to the Earth\nThe first time I seen that boy go to the birth\n.38 Special, a killer, real right\nAnd every day I'm hittin' the block, all night\nF.N.F nigga, fuck niggas finances\nWhile the goddamn gold frame dances\nGriselda, by Fashion Rebels","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: God Is Love (feat. Estee Nack, Stove God Cooks, & Keisha Plum)\n artist: Westside Gunn\n album: '10'\n duration_ms: 321214\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n Conductor\n Woah, ah-hah\n Conductor, we have a problem\n Nackie Chan, wha-ta! (Coño)\n Yo, son\n\n Santo Domingo, helpin' the grasa get to the gringo\n As niggas watchin' us shine like kings, bro (Shining)\n Golden ring glow, a lot of blinging\n No Chingo (Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding)\n All my niggas are dogs like dingo (Woof, woof, woof, woof, woof)\n Call the bitches, the god might mingle (Mommy)\n Pack a forty-fifth and some hard white singles, yeah\n Forty dollars, a head buster, bell ringer\n Rake in the paper\n The stack of chips are tall like Pringles, son (Money)\n Took off a nigga roof and watch the\n Pieces of him lift and fall like shingles (Bah, bah, bah, bah)\n Pop the cork and toast the Veuve Clicquot\n Wе done made this shit work\n Although it's niggas that got exposеd in R.I.C.O. (Yeah)\n Can't believe he did dirt and really told on his people (He folded)\n In the streets, we deal with Os of perico (Word)\n Look at this nigga arm, you can tell by the inside (Uh-huh)\n His only use for it just to poke it with needles and shit (Fuck)\n He want it even more if he know if it's lethal (That's crazy)\n Ayo, we came up (Uh-huh), what, what? Been on my ten toes, yo (Nack)\n I tap the jumper like it's Dominican Dembow bro (Jokin')\n I feel invincible when I sit in the Benzo (Vroom)\n Got uppers and downers, Addies and benzos, yeah\n Diamond dancin' (Uh), nine-hundred and ninety-six grams\n We lost a few in the unwrappin', more in the pan (Yeah)\n Fuck it, the last twelve\n They dropped back like Randall Cunningham (They did)\n I had to hop step on it like Ja Morant (Haha)\n Then them tear pants with the candles (Stove)\n Scorpions on the Carmelo Anthony (Stove)\n They dropped me out the clouds\n I landed in coke water in the kitchen sink (Woo)\n The answer is me (Woo)\n I told the plug \"Make sure it's Tia Landry\n I want it to look like the last one you handed me\" (I do)\n He hopped out swingin' the chopper like a canopy (Brrt, bah, bah)\n I left my soul in the kitchen and my sanity (and my sanity)\n The flip phone do a hundred-grand a week\n Angela Bassett, I had it flamin' in the street (Haha)\n Fork in the pot, you hear the pan tink (Tink)\n Now I move it all hands-free\n My bitch doin' her make-up in the vanity, look like DaniLeigh (She do)\n I bought a Chanel bag, just to ride in a sprinter van full of keys\n\n And when she made it (When she made it)\n When she made it (When she made it)\n We celebrated when she made it\n When she made it, when she made it, Stove\n Peace, God\n God is love, God\n I love God\n Even with the devil on my shoulder\n God is love, FLYGOD is forever\n Big Griselda, bigger villains\n One beginning, one ending\n (Conductor)\n\n Put the flash on him\n Benny the Butcher, man, how you feel, dawg?\n At the top of the world, but it's still all\n My boy Westside Gunn, nigga\n Put me on his damn back, said, \"Get-Get 'em\"\n And never mind what they talkin' 'bout\n Real niggas pull the money out when the drama out\n Real nigga put the money down, the drum out\n Millionaire, put the llama out your mama mouth\n Take the money out the damn blouse, you on the couch\n Put the pistol in your daughter mouth, you on the couch\n We gon' go around the corner with that Glock .50\n Poppin' off about a hundred at these pop niggas\n G-Wagon and I'm G baggin'\n Bitch-ass nigga talkin' 'bout he heat clappin'\n And I done heard about your pussy ass\n Next time I catch your boy, he rolled up in grass\n Count the cash, count the cash when I'm livin' fast\n So quick to do the homicide with the mask\n Take the mask off, broad day a nigga\n What the fuck you wanna do about that cold killer?\n Chain vicious, what's the issue 'bout my damn dawgs?\n My boy, F.N.F, man that's poppin' off\n Low-key, start to call\n Taboo, motherfucker, tell these niggas we goin' hard\n Real niggas do real things, but all many\n Bitch-ass niggas gon' hate, that's all in 'em\n Envyin' us niggas, that's jealously, all hate\n You're desperate to see a nigga upstate\n The real in my eyes couldn't let that shit ride\n D-I-E as a nigga swallow his pride\n Never take my pride or my motherfuckin' stripes\n Knee deep in the bullet, am I, huh?\n The game be my wife, the lane be my ice\n The .45 steel but a nigga brain twice\n That .9 millimeter revolver nigga\n Got that, got that bitch poppin' off, I'll solve you niggas\n Shoutouts to them boys who did that time\n Torence Hatch, you my nigga, I did that line\n When the first time I seen that boy go to the Earth\n The first time I seen that boy go to the birth\n .38 Special, a killer, real right\n And every day I'm hittin' the block, all night\n F.N.F nigga, fuck niggas finances\n While the goddamn gold frame dances\n Griselda, by Fashion Rebels\n"},{"id":40167543,"name":"God Is Love feat. Estee Nack, Stove God Cooks & Keisha Plum","trackName":"God Is Love feat. Estee Nack, Stove God Cooks & Keisha Plum","artistName":"Westside Gunn","albumName":"Hitler Wears Hermes 10","duration":321.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Conductor\nWoah, ah-hah\nConductor, we have a problem\nNackie Chan, wha-ta! (Coño)\nYo, son\n\nSanto Domingo, helpin' the grasa get to the gringo\nAs niggas watchin' us shine like kings, bro (Shining)\nGolden ring glow, a lot of blinging\nNo Chingo (Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding)\nAll my niggas are dogs like dingo (Woof, woof, woof, woof, woof)\nCall the bitches, the god might mingle (Mommy)\nPack a forty-fifth and some hard white singles, yeah\nForty dollars, a head buster, bell ringer\nRake in the paper\nThe stack of chips are tall like Pringles, son (Money)\nTook off a nigga roof and watch the\nPieces of him lift and fall like shingles (Bah, bah, bah, bah)\nPop the cork and toast the Veuve Clicquot\nWе done made this shit work\nAlthough it's niggas that got exposеd in R.I.C.O. (Yeah)\nCan't believe he did dirt and really told on his people (He folded)\nIn the streets, we deal with Os of perico (Word)\nLook at this nigga arm, you can tell by the inside (Uh-huh)\nHis only use for it just to poke it with needles and shit (Fuck)\nHe want it even more if he know if it's lethal (That's crazy)\nAyo, we came up (Uh-huh), what, what? Been on my ten toes, yo (Nack)\nI tap the jumper like it's Dominican Dembow bro (Jokin')\nI feel invincible when I sit in the Benzo (Vroom)\nGot uppers and downers, Addies and benzos, yeah\nDiamond dancin' (Uh), nine-hundred and ninety-six grams\nWe lost a few in the unwrappin', more in the pan (Yeah)\nFuck it, the last twelve\nThey dropped back like Randall Cunningham (They did)\nI had to hop step on it like Ja Morant (Haha)\nThen them tear pants with the candles (Stove)\nScorpions on the Carmelo Anthony (Stove)\nThey dropped me out the clouds\nI landed in coke water in the kitchen sink (Woo)\nThe answer is me (Woo)\nI told the plug \"Make sure it's Tia Landry\nI want it to look like the last one you handed me\" (I do)\nHe hopped out swingin' the chopper like a canopy (Brrt, bah, bah)\nI left my soul in the kitchen and my sanity (and my sanity)\nThe flip phone do a hundred-grand a week\nAngela Bassett, I had it flamin' in the street (Haha)\nFork in the pot, you hear the pan tink (Tink)\nNow I move it all hands-free\nMy bitch doin' her make-up in the vanity, look like DaniLeigh (She do)\nI bought a Chanel bag, just to ride in a sprinter van full of keys\n\nAnd when she made it (When she made it)\nWhen she made it (When she made it)\nWe celebrated when she made it\nWhen she made it, when she made it, Stove\nPeace, God\nGod is love, God\nI love God\nEven with the devil on my shoulder\nGod is love, FLYGOD is forever\nBig Griselda, bigger villains\nOne beginning, one ending\n(Conductor)\n\nPut the flash on him\nBenny the Butcher, man, how you feel, dawg?\nAt the top of the world, but it's still all\nMy boy Westside Gunn, nigga\nPut me on his damn back, said, \"Get-Get 'em\"\nAnd never mind what they talkin' 'bout\nReal niggas pull the money out when the drama out\nReal nigga put the money down, the drum out\nMillionaire, put the llama out your mama mouth\nTake the money out the damn blouse, you on the couch\nPut the pistol in your daughter mouth, you on the couch\nWe gon' go around the corner with that Glock .50\nPoppin' off about a hundred at these pop niggas\nG-Wagon and I'm G baggin'\nBitch-ass nigga talkin' 'bout he heat clappin'\nAnd I done heard about your pussy ass\nNext time I catch your boy, he rolled up in grass\nCount the cash, count the cash when I'm livin' fast\nSo quick to do the homicide with the mask\nTake the mask off, broad day a nigga\nWhat the fuck you wanna do about that cold killer?\nChain vicious, what's the issue 'bout my damn dawgs?\nMy boy, F.N.F, man that's poppin' off\nLow-key, start to call\nTaboo, motherfucker, tell these niggas we goin' hard\nReal niggas do real things, but all many\nBitch-ass niggas gon' hate, that's all in 'em\nEnvyin' us niggas, that's jealously, all hate\nYou're desperate to see a nigga upstate\nThe real in my eyes couldn't let that shit ride\nD-I-E as a nigga swallow his pride\nNever take my pride or my motherfuckin' stripes\nKnee deep in the bullet, am I, huh?\nThe game be my wife, the lane be my ice\nThe .45 steel but a nigga brain twice\nThat .9 millimeter revolver nigga\nGot that, got that bitch poppin' off, I'll solve you niggas\nShoutouts to them boys who did that time\nTorence Hatch, you my nigga, I did that line\nWhen the first time I seen that boy go to the Earth\nThe first time I seen that boy go to the birth\n.38 Special, a killer, real right\nAnd every day I'm hittin' the block, all night\nF.N.F nigga, fuck niggas finances\nWhile the goddamn gold frame dances\nGriselda, by Fashion Rebels","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.08] Conductor\n[00:04.92] Woah, ah-hah\n[00:06.79] Conductor, we have a problem\n[00:07.66] Nackie Chan, wha-ta! (Coño)\n[00:11.22] Yo, son\n[00:15.13] Santo Domingo, helpin' the grasa get to the gringo\n[00:18.91] As niggas watchin' us shine like kings, bro (Shining)\n[00:22.27] Golden ring glow, a lot of blinging\n[00:25.19] No Chingo (Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding)\n[00:27.10] All my niggas are dogs like dingo (Woof, woof, woof, woof, woof)\n[00:29.40] Call the bitches, the god might mingle (Mommy)\n[00:32.23] Pack a forty-fifth and some hard white singles, yeah\n[00:35.14] Forty dollars, a head buster, bell ringer\n[00:39.29] Rake in the paper\n[00:40.06] The stack of chips are tall like Pringles, son (Money)\n[00:42.84] Took off a nigga roof and watch the\n[00:45.50] Pieces of him lift and fall like shingles (Bah, bah, bah, bah)\n[00:48.69] Pop the cork and toast the Veuve Clicquot\n[00:50.92] Wе done made this shit work\n[00:52.68] Although it's niggas that got exposеd in R.I.C.O. (Yeah)\n[00:54.85] Can't believe he did dirt and really told on his people (He folded)\n[00:58.43] In the streets, we deal with Os of perico (Word)\n[01:01.12] Look at this nigga arm, you can tell by the inside (Uh-huh)\n[01:03.93] His only use for it just to poke it with needles and shit (Fuck)\n[01:07.99] He want it even more if he know if it's lethal (That's crazy)\n[01:11.18] Ayo, we came up (Uh-huh), what, what? Been on my ten toes, yo (Nack)\n[01:15.35] I tap the jumper like it's Dominican Dembow bro (Jokin')\n[01:18.64] I feel invincible when I sit in the Benzo (Vroom)\n[01:22.21] Got uppers and downers, Addies and benzos, yeah\n[01:24.65] Diamond dancin' (Uh), nine-hundred and ninety-six grams\n[01:28.20] We lost a few in the unwrappin', more in the pan (Yeah)\n[01:31.09] Fuck it, the last twelve\n[01:32.87] They dropped back like Randall Cunningham (They did)\n[01:34.89] I had to hop step on it like Ja Morant (Haha)\n[01:38.85] Then them tear pants with the candles (Stove)\n[01:40.99] Scorpions on the Carmelo Anthony (Stove)\n[01:43.43] They dropped me out the clouds\n[01:44.66] I landed in coke water in the kitchen sink (Woo)\n[01:47.07] The answer is me (Woo)\n[01:48.41] I told the plug \"Make sure it's Tia Landry\n[01:51.06] I want it to look like the last one you handed me\" (I do)\n[01:54.25] He hopped out swingin' the chopper like a canopy (Brrt, bah, bah)\n[01:57.34] I left my soul in the kitchen and my sanity (and my sanity)\n[02:01.38] The flip phone do a hundred-grand a week\n[02:03.75] Angela Bassett, I had it flamin' in the street (Haha)\n[02:06.49] Fork in the pot, you hear the pan tink (Tink)\n[02:10.23] Now I move it all hands-free\n[02:12.25] My bitch doin' her make-up in the vanity, look like DaniLeigh (She do)\n[02:15.88] I bought a Chanel bag, just to ride in a sprinter van full of keys\n[02:19.96] And when she made it (When she made it)\n[02:21.74] When she made it (When she made it)\n[02:23.44] We celebrated when she made it\n[02:26.79] When she made it, when she made it, Stove\n[02:35.85] Peace, God\n[02:39.96] God is love, God\n[02:42.28] I love God\n[02:44.42] Even with the devil on my shoulder\n[02:46.72] God is love, FLYGOD is forever\n[02:51.91] Big Griselda, bigger villains\n[02:55.34] One beginning, one ending\n[02:58.66] (Conductor)\n[03:02.53] Put the flash on him\n[03:03.53] Benny the Butcher, man, how you feel, dawg?\n[03:06.43] At the top of the world, but it's still all\n[03:09.11] My boy Westside Gunn, nigga\n[03:12.08] Put me on his damn back, said, \"Get-Get 'em\"\n[03:15.12] And never mind what they talkin' 'bout\n[03:17.93] Real niggas pull the money out when the drama out\n[03:20.64] Real nigga put the money down, the drum out\n[03:23.39] Millionaire, put the llama out your mama mouth\n[03:26.55] Take the money out the damn blouse, you on the couch\n[03:29.50] Put the pistol in your daughter mouth, you on the couch\n[03:32.34] We gon' go around the corner with that Glock .50\n[03:35.20] Poppin' off about a hundred at these pop niggas\n[03:38.08] G-Wagon and I'm G baggin'\n[03:40.88] Bitch-ass nigga talkin' 'bout he heat clappin'\n[03:43.89] And I done heard about your pussy ass\n[03:46.30] Next time I catch your boy, he rolled up in grass\n[03:49.44] Count the cash, count the cash when I'm livin' fast\n[03:52.27] So quick to do the homicide with the mask\n[03:55.26] Take the mask off, broad day a nigga\n[03:58.06] What the fuck you wanna do about that cold killer?\n[04:01.02] Chain vicious, what's the issue 'bout my damn dawgs?\n[04:03.65] My boy, F.N.F, man that's poppin' off\n[04:06.63] Low-key, start to call\n[04:08.07] Taboo, motherfucker, tell these niggas we goin' hard\n[04:12.31] Real niggas do real things, but all many\n[04:14.76] Bitch-ass niggas gon' hate, that's all in 'em\n[04:17.88] Envyin' us niggas, that's jealously, all hate\n[04:20.54] You're desperate to see a nigga upstate\n[04:23.59] The real in my eyes couldn't let that shit ride\n[04:26.46] D-I-E as a nigga swallow his pride\n[04:29.27] Never take my pride or my motherfuckin' stripes\n[04:32.01] Knee deep in the bullet, am I, huh?\n[04:35.29] The game be my wife, the lane be my ice\n[04:37.87] The .45 steel but a nigga brain twice\n[04:40.89] That .9 millimeter revolver nigga\n[04:43.62] Got that, got that bitch poppin' off, I'll solve you niggas\n[04:46.41] Shoutouts to them boys who did that time\n[04:49.23] Torence Hatch, you my nigga, I did that line\n[04:51.99] When the first time I seen that boy go to the Earth\n[04:54.66] The first time I seen that boy go to the birth\n[04:58.03] .38 Special, a killer, real right\n[05:00.94] And every day I'm hittin' the block, all night\n[05:03.66] F.N.F nigga, fuck niggas finances\n[05:06.61] While the goddamn gold frame dances\n[05:09.82] Griselda, by Fashion Rebels\n[05:15.55] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: God Is Love feat. Estee Nack, Stove God Cooks & Keisha Plum\n artist: Westside Gunn\n album: Hitler Wears Hermes 10\n duration_ms: 321214\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Conductor\n start_ms: 80\n end_ms: 4920\n- text: Woah, ah-hah\n start_ms: 4920\n end_ms: 6790\n- text: Conductor, we have a problem\n start_ms: 6790\n end_ms: 7660\n- text: Nackie Chan, wha-ta! (Coño)\n start_ms: 7660\n end_ms: 11220\n- text: Yo, son\n start_ms: 11220\n end_ms: 15130\n- text: Santo Domingo, helpin' the grasa get to the gringo\n start_ms: 15130\n end_ms: 18910\n- text: As niggas watchin' us shine like kings, bro (Shining)\n start_ms: 18910\n end_ms: 22270\n- text: Golden ring glow, a lot of blinging\n start_ms: 22270\n end_ms: 25190\n- text: No Chingo (Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding)\n start_ms: 25190\n end_ms: 27100\n- text: All my niggas are dogs like dingo (Woof, woof, woof, woof, woof)\n start_ms: 27100\n end_ms: 29400\n- text: Call the bitches, the god might mingle (Mommy)\n start_ms: 29400\n end_ms: 32230\n- text: Pack a forty-fifth and some hard white singles, yeah\n start_ms: 32230\n end_ms: 35140\n- text: Forty dollars, a head buster, bell ringer\n start_ms: 35140\n end_ms: 39290\n- text: Rake in the paper\n start_ms: 39290\n end_ms: 40060\n- text: The stack of chips are tall like Pringles, son (Money)\n start_ms: 40060\n end_ms: 42840\n- text: Took off a nigga roof and watch the\n start_ms: 42840\n end_ms: 45500\n- text: Pieces of him lift and fall like shingles (Bah, bah, bah, bah)\n start_ms: 45500\n end_ms: 48690\n- text: Pop the cork and toast the Veuve Clicquot\n start_ms: 48690\n end_ms: 50920\n- text: Wе done made this shit work\n start_ms: 50920\n end_ms: 52680\n- text: Although it's niggas that got exposеd in R.I.C.O. (Yeah)\n start_ms: 52680\n end_ms: 54850\n- text: Can't believe he did dirt and really told on his people (He folded)\n start_ms: 54850\n end_ms: 58430\n- text: In the streets, we deal with Os of perico (Word)\n start_ms: 58430\n end_ms: 61120\n- text: Look at this nigga arm, you can tell by the inside (Uh-huh)\n start_ms: 61120\n end_ms: 63930\n- text: His only use for it just to poke it with needles and shit (Fuck)\n start_ms: 63930\n end_ms: 67990\n- text: He want it even more if he know if it's lethal (That's crazy)\n start_ms: 67990\n end_ms: 71180\n- text: Ayo, we came up (Uh-huh), what, what? Been on my ten toes, yo (Nack)\n start_ms: 71180\n end_ms: 75350\n- text: I tap the jumper like it's Dominican Dembow bro (Jokin')\n start_ms: 75350\n end_ms: 78640\n- text: I feel invincible when I sit in the Benzo (Vroom)\n start_ms: 78640\n end_ms: 82210\n- text: Got uppers and downers, Addies and benzos, yeah\n start_ms: 82210\n end_ms: 84650\n- text: Diamond dancin' (Uh), nine-hundred and ninety-six grams\n start_ms: 84650\n end_ms: 88200\n- text: We lost a few in the unwrappin', more in the pan (Yeah)\n start_ms: 88200\n end_ms: 91090\n- text: Fuck it, the last twelve\n start_ms: 91090\n end_ms: 92870\n- text: They dropped back like Randall Cunningham (They did)\n start_ms: 92870\n end_ms: 94890\n- text: I had to hop step on it like Ja Morant (Haha)\n start_ms: 94890\n end_ms: 98850\n- text: Then them tear pants with the candles (Stove)\n start_ms: 98850\n end_ms: 100990\n- text: Scorpions on the Carmelo Anthony (Stove)\n start_ms: 100990\n end_ms: 103430\n- text: They dropped me out the clouds\n start_ms: 103430\n end_ms: 104660\n- text: I landed in coke water in the kitchen sink (Woo)\n start_ms: 104660\n end_ms: 107070\n- text: The answer is me (Woo)\n start_ms: 107070\n end_ms: 108410\n- text: I told the plug \"Make sure it's Tia Landry\n start_ms: 108410\n end_ms: 111060\n- text: I want it to look like the last one you handed me\" (I do)\n start_ms: 111060\n end_ms: 114250\n- text: He hopped out swingin' the chopper like a canopy (Brrt, bah, bah)\n start_ms: 114250\n end_ms: 117340\n- text: I left my soul in the kitchen and my sanity (and my sanity)\n start_ms: 117340\n end_ms: 121380\n- text: The flip phone do a hundred-grand a week\n start_ms: 121380\n end_ms: 123750\n- text: Angela Bassett, I had it flamin' in the street (Haha)\n start_ms: 123750\n end_ms: 126490\n- text: Fork in the pot, you hear the pan tink (Tink)\n start_ms: 126490\n end_ms: 130230\n- text: Now I move it all hands-free\n start_ms: 130230\n end_ms: 132250\n- text: My bitch doin' her make-up in the vanity, look like DaniLeigh (She do)\n start_ms: 132250\n end_ms: 135880\n- text: I bought a Chanel bag, just to ride in a sprinter van full of keys\n start_ms: 135880\n end_ms: 139960\n- text: And when she made it (When she made it)\n start_ms: 139960\n end_ms: 141740\n- text: When she made it (When she made it)\n start_ms: 141740\n end_ms: 143440\n- text: We celebrated when she made it\n start_ms: 143440\n end_ms: 146790\n- text: When she made it, when she made it, Stove\n start_ms: 146790\n end_ms: 155850\n- text: Peace, God\n start_ms: 155850\n end_ms: 159960\n- text: God is love, God\n start_ms: 159960\n end_ms: 162280\n- text: I love God\n start_ms: 162280\n end_ms: 164420\n- text: Even with the devil on my shoulder\n start_ms: 164420\n end_ms: 166720\n- text: God is love, FLYGOD is forever\n start_ms: 166720\n end_ms: 171910\n- text: Big Griselda, bigger villains\n start_ms: 171910\n end_ms: 175340\n- text: One beginning, one ending\n start_ms: 175340\n end_ms: 178660\n- text: (Conductor)\n start_ms: 178660\n end_ms: 182530\n- text: Put the flash on him\n start_ms: 182530\n end_ms: 183530\n- text: Benny the Butcher, man, how you feel, dawg?\n start_ms: 183530\n end_ms: 186430\n- text: At the top of the world, but it's still all\n start_ms: 186430\n end_ms: 189110\n- text: My boy Westside Gunn, nigga\n start_ms: 189110\n end_ms: 192080\n- text: Put me on his damn back, said, \"Get-Get 'em\"\n start_ms: 192080\n end_ms: 195120\n- text: And never mind what they talkin' 'bout\n start_ms: 195120\n end_ms: 197930\n- text: Real niggas pull the money out when the drama out\n start_ms: 197930\n end_ms: 200640\n- text: Real nigga put the money down, the drum out\n start_ms: 200640\n end_ms: 203390\n- text: Millionaire, put the llama out your mama mouth\n start_ms: 203390\n end_ms: 206550\n- text: Take the money out the damn blouse, you on the couch\n start_ms: 206550\n end_ms: 209500\n- text: Put the pistol in your daughter mouth, you on the couch\n start_ms: 209500\n end_ms: 212340\n- text: We gon' go around the corner with that Glock .50\n start_ms: 212340\n end_ms: 215200\n- text: Poppin' off about a hundred at these pop niggas\n start_ms: 215200\n end_ms: 218080\n- text: G-Wagon and I'm G baggin'\n start_ms: 218080\n end_ms: 220880\n- text: Bitch-ass nigga talkin' 'bout he heat clappin'\n start_ms: 220880\n end_ms: 223890\n- text: And I done heard about your pussy ass\n start_ms: 223890\n end_ms: 226300\n- text: Next time I catch your boy, he rolled up in grass\n start_ms: 226300\n end_ms: 229440\n- text: Count the cash, count the cash when I'm livin' fast\n start_ms: 229440\n end_ms: 232270\n- text: So quick to do the homicide with the mask\n start_ms: 232270\n end_ms: 235260\n- text: Take the mask off, broad day a nigga\n start_ms: 235260\n end_ms: 238060\n- text: What the fuck you wanna do about that cold killer?\n start_ms: 238060\n end_ms: 241020\n- text: Chain vicious, what's the issue 'bout my damn dawgs?\n start_ms: 241020\n end_ms: 243650\n- text: My boy, F.N.F, man that's poppin' off\n start_ms: 243650\n end_ms: 246630\n- text: Low-key, start to call\n start_ms: 246630\n end_ms: 248070\n- text: Taboo, motherfucker, tell these niggas we goin' hard\n start_ms: 248070\n end_ms: 252310\n- text: Real niggas do real things, but all many\n start_ms: 252310\n end_ms: 254760\n- text: Bitch-ass niggas gon' hate, that's all in 'em\n start_ms: 254760\n end_ms: 257880\n- text: Envyin' us niggas, that's jealously, all hate\n start_ms: 257880\n end_ms: 260540\n- text: You're desperate to see a nigga upstate\n start_ms: 260540\n end_ms: 263590\n- text: The real in my eyes couldn't let that shit ride\n start_ms: 263590\n end_ms: 266460\n- text: D-I-E as a nigga swallow his pride\n start_ms: 266460\n end_ms: 269270\n- text: Never take my pride or my motherfuckin' stripes\n start_ms: 269270\n end_ms: 272010\n- text: Knee deep in the bullet, am I, huh?\n start_ms: 272010\n end_ms: 275290\n- text: The game be my wife, the lane be my ice\n start_ms: 275290\n end_ms: 277870\n- text: The .45 steel but a nigga brain twice\n start_ms: 277870\n end_ms: 280890\n- text: That .9 millimeter revolver nigga\n start_ms: 280890\n end_ms: 283620\n- text: Got that, got that bitch poppin' off, I'll solve you niggas\n start_ms: 283620\n end_ms: 286410\n- text: Shoutouts to them boys who did that time\n start_ms: 286410\n end_ms: 289230\n- text: Torence Hatch, you my nigga, I did that line\n start_ms: 289230\n end_ms: 291990\n- text: When the first time I seen that boy go to the Earth\n start_ms: 291990\n end_ms: 294660\n- text: The first time I seen that boy go to the birth\n start_ms: 294660\n end_ms: 298030\n- text: .38 Special, a killer, real right\n start_ms: 298030\n end_ms: 300940\n- text: And every day I'm hittin' the block, all night\n start_ms: 300940\n end_ms: 303660\n- text: F.N.F nigga, fuck niggas finances\n start_ms: 303660\n end_ms: 306610\n- text: While the goddamn gold frame dances\n start_ms: 306610\n end_ms: 309820\n- text: Griselda, by Fashion Rebels\n start_ms: 309820\n end_ms: 315550\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 315550\nplain: |-\n Conductor\n Woah, ah-hah\n Conductor, we have a problem\n Nackie Chan, wha-ta! (Coño)\n Yo, son\n\n Santo Domingo, helpin' the grasa get to the gringo\n As niggas watchin' us shine like kings, bro (Shining)\n Golden ring glow, a lot of blinging\n No Chingo (Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding)\n All my niggas are dogs like dingo (Woof, woof, woof, woof, woof)\n Call the bitches, the god might mingle (Mommy)\n Pack a forty-fifth and some hard white singles, yeah\n Forty dollars, a head buster, bell ringer\n Rake in the paper\n The stack of chips are tall like Pringles, son (Money)\n Took off a nigga roof and watch the\n Pieces of him lift and fall like shingles (Bah, bah, bah, bah)\n Pop the cork and toast the Veuve Clicquot\n Wе done made this shit work\n Although it's niggas that got exposеd in R.I.C.O. (Yeah)\n Can't believe he did dirt and really told on his people (He folded)\n In the streets, we deal with Os of perico (Word)\n Look at this nigga arm, you can tell by the inside (Uh-huh)\n His only use for it just to poke it with needles and shit (Fuck)\n He want it even more if he know if it's lethal (That's crazy)\n Ayo, we came up (Uh-huh), what, what? Been on my ten toes, yo (Nack)\n I tap the jumper like it's Dominican Dembow bro (Jokin')\n I feel invincible when I sit in the Benzo (Vroom)\n Got uppers and downers, Addies and benzos, yeah\n Diamond dancin' (Uh), nine-hundred and ninety-six grams\n We lost a few in the unwrappin', more in the pan (Yeah)\n Fuck it, the last twelve\n They dropped back like Randall Cunningham (They did)\n I had to hop step on it like Ja Morant (Haha)\n Then them tear pants with the candles (Stove)\n Scorpions on the Carmelo Anthony (Stove)\n They dropped me out the clouds\n I landed in coke water in the kitchen sink (Woo)\n The answer is me (Woo)\n I told the plug \"Make sure it's Tia Landry\n I want it to look like the last one you handed me\" (I do)\n He hopped out swingin' the chopper like a canopy (Brrt, bah, bah)\n I left my soul in the kitchen and my sanity (and my sanity)\n The flip phone do a hundred-grand a week\n Angela Bassett, I had it flamin' in the street (Haha)\n Fork in the pot, you hear the pan tink (Tink)\n Now I move it all hands-free\n My bitch doin' her make-up in the vanity, look like DaniLeigh (She do)\n I bought a Chanel bag, just to ride in a sprinter van full of keys\n\n And when she made it (When she made it)\n When she made it (When she made it)\n We celebrated when she made it\n When she made it, when she made it, Stove\n Peace, God\n God is love, God\n I love God\n Even with the devil on my shoulder\n God is love, FLYGOD is forever\n Big Griselda, bigger villains\n One beginning, one ending\n (Conductor)\n\n Put the flash on him\n Benny the Butcher, man, how you feel, dawg?\n At the top of the world, but it's still all\n My boy Westside Gunn, nigga\n Put me on his damn back, said, \"Get-Get 'em\"\n And never mind what they talkin' 'bout\n Real niggas pull the money out when the drama out\n Real nigga put the money down, the drum out\n Millionaire, put the llama out your mama mouth\n Take the money out the damn blouse, you on the couch\n Put the pistol in your daughter mouth, you on the couch\n We gon' go around the corner with that Glock .50\n Poppin' off about a hundred at these pop niggas\n G-Wagon and I'm G baggin'\n Bitch-ass nigga talkin' 'bout he heat clappin'\n And I done heard about your pussy ass\n Next time I catch your boy, he rolled up in grass\n Count the cash, count the cash when I'm livin' fast\n So quick to do the homicide with the mask\n Take the mask off, broad day a nigga\n What the fuck you wanna do about that cold killer?\n Chain vicious, what's the issue 'bout my damn dawgs?\n My boy, F.N.F, man that's poppin' off\n Low-key, start to call\n Taboo, motherfucker, tell these niggas we goin' hard\n Real niggas do real things, but all many\n Bitch-ass niggas gon' hate, that's all in 'em\n Envyin' us niggas, that's jealously, all hate\n You're desperate to see a nigga upstate\n The real in my eyes couldn't let that shit ride\n D-I-E as a nigga swallow his pride\n Never take my pride or my motherfuckin' stripes\n Knee deep in the bullet, am I, huh?\n The game be my wife, the lane be my ice\n The .45 steel but a nigga brain twice\n That .9 millimeter revolver nigga\n Got that, got that bitch poppin' off, I'll solve you niggas\n Shoutouts to them boys who did that time\n Torence Hatch, you my nigga, I did that line\n When the first time I seen that boy go to the Earth\n The first time I seen that boy go to the birth\n .38 Special, a killer, real right\n And every day I'm hittin' the block, all night\n F.N.F nigga, fuck niggas finances\n While the goddamn gold frame dances\n Griselda, by Fashion Rebels\n"},{"id":31677399,"name":"God Is Love","trackName":"God Is Love","artistName":"Westside Gunn, Estee Nack, Stove God Cooks, Keisha Plum","albumName":"10","duration":321.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Conductor\nWoah, ah-hah\nConductor, we have a problem\nNackie Chan, wha-ta! (Coño)\nYo, son\n\nSanto Domingo, helpin' the grasa get to the gringo\nAs niggas watchin' us shine like kings, bro (Shining)\nGolden ring glow, a lot of blinging\nNo Chingo (Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding)\nAll my niggas are dogs like dingo (Woof, woof, woof, woof, woof)\nCall the bitches, the god might mingle (Mommy)\nPack a forty-fifth and some hard white singles, yeah\nForty dollars, a head buster, bell ringer\nRake in the paper\nThe stack of chips are tall like Pringles, son (Money)\nTook off a nigga roof and watch the\nPieces of him lift and fall like shingles (Bah, bah, bah, bah)\nPop the cork and toast the Veuve Clicquot\nWе done made this shit work\nAlthough it's niggas that got exposеd in R.I.C.O. (Yeah)\nCan't believe he did dirt and really told on his people (He folded)\nIn the streets, we deal with Os of perico (Word)\nLook at this nigga arm, you can tell by the inside (Uh-huh)\nHis only use for it just to poke it with needles and shit (Fuck)\nHe want it even more if he know if it's lethal (That's crazy)\nAyo, we came up (Uh-huh), what, what? Been on my ten toes, yo (Nack)\nI tap the jumper like it's Dominican Dembow bro (Jokin')\nI feel invincible when I sit in the Benzo (Vroom)\nGot uppers and downers, Addies and benzos, yeah\nDiamond dancin' (Uh), nine-hundred and ninety-six grams\nWe lost a few in the unwrappin', more in the pan (Yeah)\nFuck it, the last twelve\nThey dropped back like Randall Cunningham (They did)\nI had to hop step on it like Ja Morant (Haha)\nThen them tear pants with the candles (Stove)\nScorpions on the Carmelo Anthony (Stove)\nThey dropped me out the clouds\nI landed in coke water in the kitchen sink (Woo)\nThe answer is me (Woo)\nI told the plug \"Make sure it's Tia Landry\nI want it to look like the last one you handed me\" (I do)\nHe hopped out swingin' the chopper like a canopy (Brrt, bah, bah)\nI left my soul in the kitchen and my sanity (and my sanity)\nThe flip phone do a hundred-grand a week\nAngela Bassett, I had it flamin' in the street (Haha)\nFork in the pot, you hear the pan tink (Tink)\nNow I move it all hands-free\nMy bitch doin' her make-up in the vanity, look like DaniLeigh (She do)\nI bought a Chanel bag, just to ride in a sprinter van full of keys\n\nAnd when she made it (When she made it)\nWhen she made it (When she made it)\nWe celebrated when she made it\nWhen she made it, when she made it, Stove\nPeace, God\nGod is love, God\nI love God\nEven with the devil on my shoulder\nGod is love, FLYGOD is forever\nBig Griselda, bigger villains\nOne beginning, one ending\n(Conductor)\n\nPut the flash on him\nBenny the Butcher, man, how you feel, dawg?\nAt the top of the world, but it's still all\nMy boy Westside Gunn, nigga\nPut me on his damn back, said, \"Get-Get 'em\"\nAnd never mind what they talkin' 'bout\nReal niggas pull the money out when the drama out\nReal nigga put the money down, the drum out\nMillionaire, put the llama out your mama mouth\nTake the money out the damn blouse, you on the couch\nPut the pistol in your daughter mouth, you on the couch\nWe gon' go around the corner with that Glock .50\nPoppin' off about a hundred at these pop niggas\nG-Wagon and I'm G baggin'\nBitch-ass nigga talkin' 'bout he heat clappin'\nAnd I done heard about your pussy ass\nNext time I catch your boy, he rolled up in grass\nCount the cash, count the cash when I'm livin' fast\nSo quick to do the homicide with the mask\nTake the mask off, broad day a nigga\nWhat the fuck you wanna do about that cold killer?\nChain vicious, what's the issue 'bout my damn dawgs?\nMy boy, F.N.F, man that's poppin' off\nLow-key, start to call\nTaboo, motherfucker, tell these niggas we goin' hard\nReal niggas do real things, but all many\nBitch-ass niggas gon' hate, that's all in 'em\nEnvyin' us niggas, that's jealously, all hate\nYou're desperate to see a nigga upstate\nThe real in my eyes couldn't let that shit ride\nD-I-E as a nigga swallow his pride\nNever take my pride or my motherfuckin' stripes\nKnee deep in the bullet, am I, huh?\nThe game be my wife, the lane be my ice\nThe .45 steel but a nigga brain twice\nThat .9 millimeter revolver nigga\nGot that, got that bitch poppin' off, I'll solve you niggas\nShoutouts to them boys who did that time\nTorence Hatch, you my nigga, I did that line\nWhen the first time I seen that boy go to the Earth\nThe first time I seen that boy go to the birth\n.38 Special, a killer, real right\nAnd every day I'm hittin' the block, all night\nF.N.F nigga, fuck niggas finances\nWhile the goddamn gold frame dances\nGriselda, by Fashion Rebels","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.08] Conductor\n[00:04.92] Woah, ah-hah\n[00:06.79] Conductor, we have a problem\n[00:07.66] Nackie Chan, wha-ta! (Coño)\n[00:11.22] Yo, son\n[00:15.13] Santo Domingo, helpin' the grasa get to the gringo\n[00:18.91] As niggas watchin' us shine like kings, bro (Shining)\n[00:22.27] Golden ring glow, a lot of blinging\n[00:25.19] No Chingo (Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding)\n[00:27.10] All my niggas are dogs like dingo (Woof, woof, woof, woof, woof)\n[00:29.40] Call the bitches, the god might mingle (Mommy)\n[00:32.23] Pack a forty-fifth and some hard white singles, yeah\n[00:35.14] Forty dollars, a head buster, bell ringer\n[00:39.29] Rake in the paper\n[00:40.06] The stack of chips are tall like Pringles, son (Money)\n[00:42.84] Took off a nigga roof and watch the\n[00:45.50] Pieces of him lift and fall like shingles (Bah, bah, bah, bah)\n[00:48.69] Pop the cork and toast the Veuve Clicquot\n[00:50.92] Wе done made this shit work\n[00:52.68] Although it's niggas that got exposеd in R.I.C.O. (Yeah)\n[00:54.85] Can't believe he did dirt and really told on his people (He folded)\n[00:58.43] In the streets, we deal with Os of perico (Word)\n[01:01.12] Look at this nigga arm, you can tell by the inside (Uh-huh)\n[01:03.93] His only use for it just to poke it with needles and shit (Fuck)\n[01:07.99] He want it even more if he know if it's lethal (That's crazy)\n[01:11.18] Ayo, we came up (Uh-huh), what, what? Been on my ten toes, yo (Nack)\n[01:15.35] I tap the jumper like it's Dominican Dembow bro (Jokin')\n[01:18.64] I feel invincible when I sit in the Benzo (Vroom)\n[01:22.21] Got uppers and downers, Addies and benzos, yeah\n[01:24.65] Diamond dancin' (Uh), nine-hundred and ninety-six grams\n[01:28.20] We lost a few in the unwrappin', more in the pan (Yeah)\n[01:31.09] Fuck it, the last twelve\n[01:32.87] They dropped back like Randall Cunningham (They did)\n[01:34.89] I had to hop step on it like Ja Morant (Haha)\n[01:38.85] Then them tear pants with the candles (Stove)\n[01:40.99] Scorpions on the Carmelo Anthony (Stove)\n[01:43.43] They dropped me out the clouds\n[01:44.66] I landed in coke water in the kitchen sink (Woo)\n[01:47.07] The answer is me (Woo)\n[01:48.41] I told the plug \"Make sure it's Tia Landry\n[01:51.06] I want it to look like the last one you handed me\" (I do)\n[01:54.25] He hopped out swingin' the chopper like a canopy (Brrt, bah, bah)\n[01:57.34] I left my soul in the kitchen and my sanity (and my sanity)\n[02:01.38] The flip phone do a hundred-grand a week\n[02:03.75] Angela Bassett, I had it flamin' in the street (Haha)\n[02:06.49] Fork in the pot, you hear the pan tink (Tink)\n[02:10.23] Now I move it all hands-free\n[02:12.25] My bitch doin' her make-up in the vanity, look like DaniLeigh (She do)\n[02:15.88] I bought a Chanel bag, just to ride in a sprinter van full of keys\n[02:19.96] And when she made it (When she made it)\n[02:21.74] When she made it (When she made it)\n[02:23.44] We celebrated when she made it\n[02:26.79] When she made it, when she made it, Stove\n[02:35.85] Peace, God\n[02:39.96] God is love, God\n[02:42.28] I love God\n[02:44.42] Even with the devil on my shoulder\n[02:46.72] God is love, FLYGOD is forever\n[02:51.91] Big Griselda, bigger villains\n[02:55.34] One beginning, one ending\n[02:58.66] (Conductor)\n[03:02.53] Put the flash on him\n[03:03.53] Benny the Butcher, man, how you feel, dawg?\n[03:06.43] At the top of the world, but it's still all\n[03:09.11] My boy Westside Gunn, nigga\n[03:12.08] Put me on his damn back, said, \"Get-Get 'em\"\n[03:15.12] And never mind what they talkin' 'bout\n[03:17.93] Real niggas pull the money out when the drama out\n[03:20.64] Real nigga put the money down, the drum out\n[03:23.39] Millionaire, put the llama out your mama mouth\n[03:26.55] Take the money out the damn blouse, you on the couch\n[03:29.50] Put the pistol in your daughter mouth, you on the couch\n[03:32.34] We gon' go around the corner with that Glock .50\n[03:35.20] Poppin' off about a hundred at these pop niggas\n[03:38.08] G-Wagon and I'm G baggin'\n[03:40.88] Bitch-ass nigga talkin' 'bout he heat clappin'\n[03:43.89] And I done heard about your pussy ass\n[03:46.30] Next time I catch your boy, he rolled up in grass\n[03:49.44] Count the cash, count the cash when I'm livin' fast\n[03:52.27] So quick to do the homicide with the mask\n[03:55.26] Take the mask off, broad day a nigga\n[03:58.06] What the fuck you wanna do about that cold killer?\n[04:01.02] Chain vicious, what's the issue 'bout my damn dawgs?\n[04:03.65] My boy, F.N.F, man that's poppin' off\n[04:06.63] Low-key, start to call\n[04:08.07] Taboo, motherfucker, tell these niggas we goin' hard\n[04:12.31] Real niggas do real things, but all many\n[04:14.76] Bitch-ass niggas gon' hate, that's all in 'em\n[04:17.88] Envyin' us niggas, that's jealously, all hate\n[04:20.54] You're desperate to see a nigga upstate\n[04:23.59] The real in my eyes couldn't let that shit ride\n[04:26.46] D-I-E as a nigga swallow his pride\n[04:29.27] Never take my pride or my motherfuckin' stripes\n[04:32.01] Knee deep in the bullet, am I, huh?\n[04:35.29] The game be my wife, the lane be my ice\n[04:37.87] The .45 steel but a nigga brain twice\n[04:40.89] That .9 millimeter revolver nigga\n[04:43.62] Got that, got that bitch poppin' off, I'll solve you niggas\n[04:46.41] Shoutouts to them boys who did that time\n[04:49.23] Torence Hatch, you my nigga, I did that line\n[04:51.99] When the first time I seen that boy go to the Earth\n[04:54.66] The first time I seen that boy go to the birth\n[04:58.03] .38 Special, a killer, real right\n[05:00.94] And every day I'm hittin' the block, all night\n[05:03.66] F.N.F nigga, fuck niggas finances\n[05:06.61] While the goddamn gold frame dances\n[05:09.82] Griselda, by Fashion Rebels\n[05:15.55] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: God Is Love\n artist: Westside Gunn, Estee Nack, Stove God Cooks, Keisha Plum\n album: '10'\n duration_ms: 321000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Conductor\n start_ms: 80\n end_ms: 4920\n- text: Woah, ah-hah\n start_ms: 4920\n end_ms: 6790\n- text: Conductor, we have a problem\n start_ms: 6790\n end_ms: 7660\n- text: Nackie Chan, wha-ta! (Coño)\n start_ms: 7660\n end_ms: 11220\n- text: Yo, son\n start_ms: 11220\n end_ms: 15130\n- text: Santo Domingo, helpin' the grasa get to the gringo\n start_ms: 15130\n end_ms: 18910\n- text: As niggas watchin' us shine like kings, bro (Shining)\n start_ms: 18910\n end_ms: 22270\n- text: Golden ring glow, a lot of blinging\n start_ms: 22270\n end_ms: 25190\n- text: No Chingo (Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding)\n start_ms: 25190\n end_ms: 27100\n- text: All my niggas are dogs like dingo (Woof, woof, woof, woof, woof)\n start_ms: 27100\n end_ms: 29400\n- text: Call the bitches, the god might mingle (Mommy)\n start_ms: 29400\n end_ms: 32230\n- text: Pack a forty-fifth and some hard white singles, yeah\n start_ms: 32230\n end_ms: 35140\n- text: Forty dollars, a head buster, bell ringer\n start_ms: 35140\n end_ms: 39290\n- text: Rake in the paper\n start_ms: 39290\n end_ms: 40060\n- text: The stack of chips are tall like Pringles, son (Money)\n start_ms: 40060\n end_ms: 42840\n- text: Took off a nigga roof and watch the\n start_ms: 42840\n end_ms: 45500\n- text: Pieces of him lift and fall like shingles (Bah, bah, bah, bah)\n start_ms: 45500\n end_ms: 48690\n- text: Pop the cork and toast the Veuve Clicquot\n start_ms: 48690\n end_ms: 50920\n- text: Wе done made this shit work\n start_ms: 50920\n end_ms: 52680\n- text: Although it's niggas that got exposеd in R.I.C.O. (Yeah)\n start_ms: 52680\n end_ms: 54850\n- text: Can't believe he did dirt and really told on his people (He folded)\n start_ms: 54850\n end_ms: 58430\n- text: In the streets, we deal with Os of perico (Word)\n start_ms: 58430\n end_ms: 61120\n- text: Look at this nigga arm, you can tell by the inside (Uh-huh)\n start_ms: 61120\n end_ms: 63930\n- text: His only use for it just to poke it with needles and shit (Fuck)\n start_ms: 63930\n end_ms: 67990\n- text: He want it even more if he know if it's lethal (That's crazy)\n start_ms: 67990\n end_ms: 71180\n- text: Ayo, we came up (Uh-huh), what, what? Been on my ten toes, yo (Nack)\n start_ms: 71180\n end_ms: 75350\n- text: I tap the jumper like it's Dominican Dembow bro (Jokin')\n start_ms: 75350\n end_ms: 78640\n- text: I feel invincible when I sit in the Benzo (Vroom)\n start_ms: 78640\n end_ms: 82210\n- text: Got uppers and downers, Addies and benzos, yeah\n start_ms: 82210\n end_ms: 84650\n- text: Diamond dancin' (Uh), nine-hundred and ninety-six grams\n start_ms: 84650\n end_ms: 88200\n- text: We lost a few in the unwrappin', more in the pan (Yeah)\n start_ms: 88200\n end_ms: 91090\n- text: Fuck it, the last twelve\n start_ms: 91090\n end_ms: 92870\n- text: They dropped back like Randall Cunningham (They did)\n start_ms: 92870\n end_ms: 94890\n- text: I had to hop step on it like Ja Morant (Haha)\n start_ms: 94890\n end_ms: 98850\n- text: Then them tear pants with the candles (Stove)\n start_ms: 98850\n end_ms: 100990\n- text: Scorpions on the Carmelo Anthony (Stove)\n start_ms: 100990\n end_ms: 103430\n- text: They dropped me out the clouds\n start_ms: 103430\n end_ms: 104660\n- text: I landed in coke water in the kitchen sink (Woo)\n start_ms: 104660\n end_ms: 107070\n- text: The answer is me (Woo)\n start_ms: 107070\n end_ms: 108410\n- text: I told the plug \"Make sure it's Tia Landry\n start_ms: 108410\n end_ms: 111060\n- text: I want it to look like the last one you handed me\" (I do)\n start_ms: 111060\n end_ms: 114250\n- text: He hopped out swingin' the chopper like a canopy (Brrt, bah, bah)\n start_ms: 114250\n end_ms: 117340\n- text: I left my soul in the kitchen and my sanity (and my sanity)\n start_ms: 117340\n end_ms: 121380\n- text: The flip phone do a hundred-grand a week\n start_ms: 121380\n end_ms: 123750\n- text: Angela Bassett, I had it flamin' in the street (Haha)\n start_ms: 123750\n end_ms: 126490\n- text: Fork in the pot, you hear the pan tink (Tink)\n start_ms: 126490\n end_ms: 130230\n- text: Now I move it all hands-free\n start_ms: 130230\n end_ms: 132250\n- text: My bitch doin' her make-up in the vanity, look like DaniLeigh (She do)\n start_ms: 132250\n end_ms: 135880\n- text: I bought a Chanel bag, just to ride in a sprinter van full of keys\n start_ms: 135880\n end_ms: 139960\n- text: And when she made it (When she made it)\n start_ms: 139960\n end_ms: 141740\n- text: When she made it (When she made it)\n start_ms: 141740\n end_ms: 143440\n- text: We celebrated when she made it\n start_ms: 143440\n end_ms: 146790\n- text: When she made it, when she made it, Stove\n start_ms: 146790\n end_ms: 155850\n- text: Peace, God\n start_ms: 155850\n end_ms: 159960\n- text: God is love, God\n start_ms: 159960\n end_ms: 162280\n- text: I love God\n start_ms: 162280\n end_ms: 164420\n- text: Even with the devil on my shoulder\n start_ms: 164420\n end_ms: 166720\n- text: God is love, FLYGOD is forever\n start_ms: 166720\n end_ms: 171910\n- text: Big Griselda, bigger villains\n start_ms: 171910\n end_ms: 175340\n- text: One beginning, one ending\n start_ms: 175340\n end_ms: 178660\n- text: (Conductor)\n start_ms: 178660\n end_ms: 182530\n- text: Put the flash on him\n start_ms: 182530\n end_ms: 183530\n- text: Benny the Butcher, man, how you feel, dawg?\n start_ms: 183530\n end_ms: 186430\n- text: At the top of the world, but it's still all\n start_ms: 186430\n end_ms: 189110\n- text: My boy Westside Gunn, nigga\n start_ms: 189110\n end_ms: 192080\n- text: Put me on his damn back, said, \"Get-Get 'em\"\n start_ms: 192080\n end_ms: 195120\n- text: And never mind what they talkin' 'bout\n start_ms: 195120\n end_ms: 197930\n- text: Real niggas pull the money out when the drama out\n start_ms: 197930\n end_ms: 200640\n- text: Real nigga put the money down, the drum out\n start_ms: 200640\n end_ms: 203390\n- text: Millionaire, put the llama out your mama mouth\n start_ms: 203390\n end_ms: 206550\n- text: Take the money out the damn blouse, you on the couch\n start_ms: 206550\n end_ms: 209500\n- text: Put the pistol in your daughter mouth, you on the couch\n start_ms: 209500\n end_ms: 212340\n- text: We gon' go around the corner with that Glock .50\n start_ms: 212340\n end_ms: 215200\n- text: Poppin' off about a hundred at these pop niggas\n start_ms: 215200\n end_ms: 218080\n- text: G-Wagon and I'm G baggin'\n start_ms: 218080\n end_ms: 220880\n- text: Bitch-ass nigga talkin' 'bout he heat clappin'\n start_ms: 220880\n end_ms: 223890\n- text: And I done heard about your pussy ass\n start_ms: 223890\n end_ms: 226300\n- text: Next time I catch your boy, he rolled up in grass\n start_ms: 226300\n end_ms: 229440\n- text: Count the cash, count the cash when I'm livin' fast\n start_ms: 229440\n end_ms: 232270\n- text: So quick to do the homicide with the mask\n start_ms: 232270\n end_ms: 235260\n- text: Take the mask off, broad day a nigga\n start_ms: 235260\n end_ms: 238060\n- text: What the fuck you wanna do about that cold killer?\n start_ms: 238060\n end_ms: 241020\n- text: Chain vicious, what's the issue 'bout my damn dawgs?\n start_ms: 241020\n end_ms: 243650\n- text: My boy, F.N.F, man that's poppin' off\n start_ms: 243650\n end_ms: 246630\n- text: Low-key, start to call\n start_ms: 246630\n end_ms: 248070\n- text: Taboo, motherfucker, tell these niggas we goin' hard\n start_ms: 248070\n end_ms: 252310\n- text: Real niggas do real things, but all many\n start_ms: 252310\n end_ms: 254760\n- text: Bitch-ass niggas gon' hate, that's all in 'em\n start_ms: 254760\n end_ms: 257880\n- text: Envyin' us niggas, that's jealously, all hate\n start_ms: 257880\n end_ms: 260540\n- text: You're desperate to see a nigga upstate\n start_ms: 260540\n end_ms: 263590\n- text: The real in my eyes couldn't let that shit ride\n start_ms: 263590\n end_ms: 266460\n- text: D-I-E as a nigga swallow his pride\n start_ms: 266460\n end_ms: 269270\n- text: Never take my pride or my motherfuckin' stripes\n start_ms: 269270\n end_ms: 272010\n- text: Knee deep in the bullet, am I, huh?\n start_ms: 272010\n end_ms: 275290\n- text: The game be my wife, the lane be my ice\n start_ms: 275290\n end_ms: 277870\n- text: The .45 steel but a nigga brain twice\n start_ms: 277870\n end_ms: 280890\n- text: That .9 millimeter revolver nigga\n start_ms: 280890\n end_ms: 283620\n- text: Got that, got that bitch poppin' off, I'll solve you niggas\n start_ms: 283620\n end_ms: 286410\n- text: Shoutouts to them boys who did that time\n start_ms: 286410\n end_ms: 289230\n- text: Torence Hatch, you my nigga, I did that line\n start_ms: 289230\n end_ms: 291990\n- text: When the first time I seen that boy go to the Earth\n start_ms: 291990\n end_ms: 294660\n- text: The first time I seen that boy go to the birth\n start_ms: 294660\n end_ms: 298030\n- text: .38 Special, a killer, real right\n start_ms: 298030\n end_ms: 300940\n- text: And every day I'm hittin' the block, all night\n start_ms: 300940\n end_ms: 303660\n- text: F.N.F nigga, fuck niggas finances\n start_ms: 303660\n end_ms: 306610\n- text: While the goddamn gold frame dances\n start_ms: 306610\n end_ms: 309820\n- text: Griselda, by Fashion Rebels\n start_ms: 309820\n end_ms: 315550\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 315550\nplain: |-\n Conductor\n Woah, ah-hah\n Conductor, we have a problem\n Nackie Chan, wha-ta! (Coño)\n Yo, son\n\n Santo Domingo, helpin' the grasa get to the gringo\n As niggas watchin' us shine like kings, bro (Shining)\n Golden ring glow, a lot of blinging\n No Chingo (Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding)\n All my niggas are dogs like dingo (Woof, woof, woof, woof, woof)\n Call the bitches, the god might mingle (Mommy)\n Pack a forty-fifth and some hard white singles, yeah\n Forty dollars, a head buster, bell ringer\n Rake in the paper\n The stack of chips are tall like Pringles, son (Money)\n Took off a nigga roof and watch the\n Pieces of him lift and fall like shingles (Bah, bah, bah, bah)\n Pop the cork and toast the Veuve Clicquot\n Wе done made this shit work\n Although it's niggas that got exposеd in R.I.C.O. (Yeah)\n Can't believe he did dirt and really told on his people (He folded)\n In the streets, we deal with Os of perico (Word)\n Look at this nigga arm, you can tell by the inside (Uh-huh)\n His only use for it just to poke it with needles and shit (Fuck)\n He want it even more if he know if it's lethal (That's crazy)\n Ayo, we came up (Uh-huh), what, what? Been on my ten toes, yo (Nack)\n I tap the jumper like it's Dominican Dembow bro (Jokin')\n I feel invincible when I sit in the Benzo (Vroom)\n Got uppers and downers, Addies and benzos, yeah\n Diamond dancin' (Uh), nine-hundred and ninety-six grams\n We lost a few in the unwrappin', more in the pan (Yeah)\n Fuck it, the last twelve\n They dropped back like Randall Cunningham (They did)\n I had to hop step on it like Ja Morant (Haha)\n Then them tear pants with the candles (Stove)\n Scorpions on the Carmelo Anthony (Stove)\n They dropped me out the clouds\n I landed in coke water in the kitchen sink (Woo)\n The answer is me (Woo)\n I told the plug \"Make sure it's Tia Landry\n I want it to look like the last one you handed me\" (I do)\n He hopped out swingin' the chopper like a canopy (Brrt, bah, bah)\n I left my soul in the kitchen and my sanity (and my sanity)\n The flip phone do a hundred-grand a week\n Angela Bassett, I had it flamin' in the street (Haha)\n Fork in the pot, you hear the pan tink (Tink)\n Now I move it all hands-free\n My bitch doin' her make-up in the vanity, look like DaniLeigh (She do)\n I bought a Chanel bag, just to ride in a sprinter van full of keys\n\n And when she made it (When she made it)\n When she made it (When she made it)\n We celebrated when she made it\n When she made it, when she made it, Stove\n Peace, God\n God is love, God\n I love God\n Even with the devil on my shoulder\n God is love, FLYGOD is forever\n Big Griselda, bigger villains\n One beginning, one ending\n (Conductor)\n\n Put the flash on him\n Benny the Butcher, man, how you feel, dawg?\n At the top of the world, but it's still all\n My boy Westside Gunn, nigga\n Put me on his damn back, said, \"Get-Get 'em\"\n And never mind what they talkin' 'bout\n Real niggas pull the money out when the drama out\n Real nigga put the money down, the drum out\n Millionaire, put the llama out your mama mouth\n Take the money out the damn blouse, you on the couch\n Put the pistol in your daughter mouth, you on the couch\n We gon' go around the corner with that Glock .50\n Poppin' off about a hundred at these pop niggas\n G-Wagon and I'm G baggin'\n Bitch-ass nigga talkin' 'bout he heat clappin'\n And I done heard about your pussy ass\n Next time I catch your boy, he rolled up in grass\n Count the cash, count the cash when I'm livin' fast\n So quick to do the homicide with the mask\n Take the mask off, broad day a nigga\n What the fuck you wanna do about that cold killer?\n Chain vicious, what's the issue 'bout my damn dawgs?\n My boy, F.N.F, man that's poppin' off\n Low-key, start to call\n Taboo, motherfucker, tell these niggas we goin' hard\n Real niggas do real things, but all many\n Bitch-ass niggas gon' hate, that's all in 'em\n Envyin' us niggas, that's jealously, all hate\n You're desperate to see a nigga upstate\n The real in my eyes couldn't let that shit ride\n D-I-E as a nigga swallow his pride\n Never take my pride or my motherfuckin' stripes\n Knee deep in the bullet, am I, huh?\n The game be my wife, the lane be my ice\n The .45 steel but a nigga brain twice\n That .9 millimeter revolver nigga\n Got that, got that bitch poppin' off, I'll solve you niggas\n Shoutouts to them boys who did that time\n Torence Hatch, you my nigga, I did that line\n When the first time I seen that boy go to the Earth\n The first time I seen that boy go to the birth\n .38 Special, a killer, real right\n And every day I'm hittin' the block, all night\n F.N.F nigga, fuck niggas finances\n While the goddamn gold frame dances\n Griselda, by Fashion Rebels\n"},{"id":22695609,"name":"God Is Love","trackName":"God Is Love","artistName":"Westside Gunn, Estee Nack, Keisha Plum, Stove God Cooks","albumName":"10","duration":321.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Conductor\nWoah, ah-hah\nConductor, we have a problem\nNackie Chan, wha-ta! (Coño)\nYo, son\n\nSanto Domingo, helpin' the grasa get to the gringo\nAs niggas watchin' us shine like kings, bro (Shining)\nGolden ring glow, a lot of blinging\nNo Chingo (Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding)\nAll my niggas are dogs like dingo (Woof, woof, woof, woof, woof)\nCall the bitches, the god might mingle (Mommy)\nPack a forty-fifth and some hard white singles, yeah\nForty dollars, a head buster, bell ringer\nRake in the paper\nThe stack of chips are tall like Pringles, son (Money)\nTook off a nigga roof and watch the\nPieces of him lift and fall like shingles (Bah, bah, bah, bah)\nPop the cork and toast the Veuve Clicquot\nWе done made this shit work\nAlthough it's niggas that got exposеd in R.I.C.O. (Yeah)\nCan't believe he did dirt and really told on his people (He folded)\nIn the streets, we deal with Os of perico (Word)\nLook at this nigga arm, you can tell by the inside (Uh-huh)\nHis only use for it just to poke it with needles and shit (Fuck)\nHe want it even more if he know if it's lethal (That's crazy)\nAyo, we came up (Uh-huh), what, what? Been on my ten toes, yo (Nack)\nI tap the jumper like it's Dominican Dembow bro (Jokin')\nI feel invincible when I sit in the Benzo (Vroom)\nGot uppers and downers, Addies and benzos, yeah\nDiamond dancin' (Uh), nine-hundred and ninety-six grams\nWe lost a few in the unwrappin', more in the pan (Yeah)\nFuck it, the last twelve\nThey dropped back like Randall Cunningham (They did)\nI had to hop step on it like Ja Morant (Haha)\nThen them tear pants with the candles (Stove)\nScorpions on the Carmelo Anthony (Stove)\nThey dropped me out the clouds\nI landed in coke water in the kitchen sink (Woo)\nThe answer is me (Woo)\nI told the plug \"Make sure it's Tia Landry\nI want it to look like the last one you handed me\" (I do)\nHe hopped out swingin' the chopper like a canopy (Brrt, bah, bah)\nI left my soul in the kitchen and my sanity (and my sanity)\nThe flip phone do a hundred-grand a week\nAngela Bassett, I had it flamin' in the street (Haha)\nFork in the pot, you hear the pan tink (Tink)\nNow I move it all hands-free\nMy bitch doin' her make-up in the vanity, look like DaniLeigh (She do)\nI bought a Chanel bag, just to ride in a sprinter van full of keys\n\nAnd when she made it (When she made it)\nWhen she made it (When she made it)\nWe celebrated when she made it\nWhen she made it, when she made it, Stove\nPeace, God\nGod is love, God\nI love God\nEven with the devil on my shoulder\nGod is love, FLYGOD is forever\nBig Griselda, bigger villains\nOne beginning, one ending\n(Conductor)\n\nPut the flash on him\nBenny the Butcher, man, how you feel, dawg?\nAt the top of the world, but it's still all\nMy boy Westside Gunn, nigga\nPut me on his damn back, said, \"Get-Get 'em\"\nAnd never mind what they talkin' 'bout\nReal niggas pull the money out when the drama out\nReal nigga put the money down, the drum out\nMillionaire, put the llama out your mama mouth\nTake the money out the damn blouse, you on the couch\nPut the pistol in your daughter mouth, you on the couch\nWe gon' go around the corner with that Glock .50\nPoppin' off about a hundred at these pop niggas\nG-Wagon and I'm G baggin'\nBitch-ass nigga talkin' 'bout he heat clappin'\nAnd I done heard about your pussy ass\nNext time I catch your boy, he rolled up in grass\nCount the cash, count the cash when I'm livin' fast\nSo quick to do the homicide with the mask\nTake the mask off, broad day a nigga\nWhat the fuck you wanna do about that cold killer?\nChain vicious, what's the issue 'bout my damn dawgs?\nMy boy, F.N.F, man that's poppin' off\nLow-key, start to call\nTaboo, motherfucker, tell these niggas we goin' hard\nReal niggas do real things, but all many\nBitch-ass niggas gon' hate, that's all in 'em\nEnvyin' us niggas, that's jealously, all hate\nYou're desperate to see a nigga upstate\nThe real in my eyes couldn't let that shit ride\nD-I-E as a nigga swallow his pride\nNever take my pride or my motherfuckin' stripes\nKnee deep in the bullet, am I, huh?\nThe game be my wife, the lane be my ice\nThe .45 steel but a nigga brain twice\nThat .9 millimeter revolver nigga\nGot that, got that bitch poppin' off, I'll solve you niggas\nShoutouts to them boys who did that time\nTorence Hatch, you my nigga, I did that line\nWhen the first time I seen that boy go to the Earth\nThe first time I seen that boy go to the birth\n.38 Special, a killer, real right\nAnd every day I'm hittin' the block, all night\nF.N.F nigga, fuck niggas finances\nWhile the goddamn gold frame dances\nGriselda, by Fashion Rebels","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: God Is Love\n artist: Westside Gunn, Estee Nack, Keisha Plum, Stove God Cooks\n album: '10'\n duration_ms: 321000\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n Conductor\n Woah, ah-hah\n Conductor, we have a problem\n Nackie Chan, wha-ta! (Coño)\n Yo, son\n\n Santo Domingo, helpin' the grasa get to the gringo\n As niggas watchin' us shine like kings, bro (Shining)\n Golden ring glow, a lot of blinging\n No Chingo (Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding)\n All my niggas are dogs like dingo (Woof, woof, woof, woof, woof)\n Call the bitches, the god might mingle (Mommy)\n Pack a forty-fifth and some hard white singles, yeah\n Forty dollars, a head buster, bell ringer\n Rake in the paper\n The stack of chips are tall like Pringles, son (Money)\n Took off a nigga roof and watch the\n Pieces of him lift and fall like shingles (Bah, bah, bah, bah)\n Pop the cork and toast the Veuve Clicquot\n Wе done made this shit work\n Although it's niggas that got exposеd in R.I.C.O. (Yeah)\n Can't believe he did dirt and really told on his people (He folded)\n In the streets, we deal with Os of perico (Word)\n Look at this nigga arm, you can tell by the inside (Uh-huh)\n His only use for it just to poke it with needles and shit (Fuck)\n He want it even more if he know if it's lethal (That's crazy)\n Ayo, we came up (Uh-huh), what, what? Been on my ten toes, yo (Nack)\n I tap the jumper like it's Dominican Dembow bro (Jokin')\n I feel invincible when I sit in the Benzo (Vroom)\n Got uppers and downers, Addies and benzos, yeah\n Diamond dancin' (Uh), nine-hundred and ninety-six grams\n We lost a few in the unwrappin', more in the pan (Yeah)\n Fuck it, the last twelve\n They dropped back like Randall Cunningham (They did)\n I had to hop step on it like Ja Morant (Haha)\n Then them tear pants with the candles (Stove)\n Scorpions on the Carmelo Anthony (Stove)\n They dropped me out the clouds\n I landed in coke water in the kitchen sink (Woo)\n The answer is me (Woo)\n I told the plug \"Make sure it's Tia Landry\n I want it to look like the last one you handed me\" (I do)\n He hopped out swingin' the chopper like a canopy (Brrt, bah, bah)\n I left my soul in the kitchen and my sanity (and my sanity)\n The flip phone do a hundred-grand a week\n Angela Bassett, I had it flamin' in the street (Haha)\n Fork in the pot, you hear the pan tink (Tink)\n Now I move it all hands-free\n My bitch doin' her make-up in the vanity, look like DaniLeigh (She do)\n I bought a Chanel bag, just to ride in a sprinter van full of keys\n\n And when she made it (When she made it)\n When she made it (When she made it)\n We celebrated when she made it\n When she made it, when she made it, Stove\n Peace, God\n God is love, God\n I love God\n Even with the devil on my shoulder\n God is love, FLYGOD is forever\n Big Griselda, bigger villains\n One beginning, one ending\n (Conductor)\n\n Put the flash on him\n Benny the Butcher, man, how you feel, dawg?\n At the top of the world, but it's still all\n My boy Westside Gunn, nigga\n Put me on his damn back, said, \"Get-Get 'em\"\n And never mind what they talkin' 'bout\n Real niggas pull the money out when the drama out\n Real nigga put the money down, the drum out\n Millionaire, put the llama out your mama mouth\n Take the money out the damn blouse, you on the couch\n Put the pistol in your daughter mouth, you on the couch\n We gon' go around the corner with that Glock .50\n Poppin' off about a hundred at these pop niggas\n G-Wagon and I'm G baggin'\n Bitch-ass nigga talkin' 'bout he heat clappin'\n And I done heard about your pussy ass\n Next time I catch your boy, he rolled up in grass\n Count the cash, count the cash when I'm livin' fast\n So quick to do the homicide with the mask\n Take the mask off, broad day a nigga\n What the fuck you wanna do about that cold killer?\n Chain vicious, what's the issue 'bout my damn dawgs?\n My boy, F.N.F, man that's poppin' off\n Low-key, start to call\n Taboo, motherfucker, tell these niggas we goin' hard\n Real niggas do real things, but all many\n Bitch-ass niggas gon' hate, that's all in 'em\n Envyin' us niggas, that's jealously, all hate\n You're desperate to see a nigga upstate\n The real in my eyes couldn't let that shit ride\n D-I-E as a nigga swallow his pride\n Never take my pride or my motherfuckin' stripes\n Knee deep in the bullet, am I, huh?\n The game be my wife, the lane be my ice\n The .45 steel but a nigga brain twice\n That .9 millimeter revolver nigga\n Got that, got that bitch poppin' off, I'll solve you niggas\n Shoutouts to them boys who did that time\n Torence Hatch, you my nigga, I did that line\n When the first time I seen that boy go to the Earth\n The first time I seen that boy go to the birth\n .38 Special, a killer, real right\n And every day I'm hittin' the block, all night\n F.N.F nigga, fuck niggas finances\n While the goddamn gold frame dances\n Griselda, by Fashion Rebels\n"},{"id":16960045,"name":"God Is Love","trackName":"God Is Love","artistName":"Westside Gunn feat. Estee Nack, Stove God Cooks, & Keisha Plum","albumName":"10","duration":321.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Conductor\nWoah, ah-hah\nConductor, we have a problem\nNackie Chan, wha-ta! (Coño)\nYo, son\n\nSanto Domingo, helpin' the grasa get to the gringo\nAs niggas watchin' us shine like kings, bro (Shining)\nGolden ring glow, a lot of blinging\nNo Chingo (Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding)\nAll my niggas are dogs like dingo (Woof, woof, woof, woof, woof)\nCall the bitches, the god might mingle (Mommy)\nPack a forty-fifth and some hard white singles, yeah\nForty dollars, a head buster, bell ringer\nRake in the paper\nThe stack of chips are tall like Pringles, son (Money)\nTook off a nigga roof and watch the\nPieces of him lift and fall like shingles (Bah, bah, bah, bah)\nPop the cork and toast the Veuve Clicquot\nWе done made this shit work\nAlthough it's niggas that got exposеd in R.I.C.O. (Yeah)\nCan't believe he did dirt and really told on his people (He folded)\nIn the streets, we deal with Os of perico (Word)\nLook at this nigga arm, you can tell by the inside (Uh-huh)\nHis only use for it just to poke it with needles and shit (Fuck)\nHe want it even more if he know if it's lethal (That's crazy)\nAyo, we came up (Uh-huh), what, what? Been on my ten toes, yo (Nack)\nI tap the jumper like it's Dominican Dembow bro (Jokin')\nI feel invincible when I sit in the Benzo (Vroom)\nGot uppers and downers, Addies and benzos, yeah\nDiamond dancin' (Uh), nine-hundred and ninety-six grams\nWe lost a few in the unwrappin', more in the pan (Yeah)\nFuck it, the last twelve\nThey dropped back like Randall Cunningham (They did)\nI had to hop step on it like Ja Morant (Haha)\nThen them tear pants with the candles (Stove)\nScorpions on the Carmelo Anthony (Stove)\nThey dropped me out the clouds\nI landed in coke water in the kitchen sink (Woo)\nThe answer is me (Woo)\nI told the plug \"Make sure it's Tia Landry\nI want it to look like the last one you handed me\" (I do)\nHe hopped out swingin' the chopper like a canopy (Brrt, bah, bah)\nI left my soul in the kitchen and my sanity (and my sanity)\nThe flip phone do a hundred-grand a week\nAngela Bassett, I had it flamin' in the street (Haha)\nFork in the pot, you hear the pan tink (Tink)\nNow I move it all hands-free\nMy bitch doin' her make-up in the vanity, look like DaniLeigh (She do)\nI bought a Chanel bag, just to ride in a sprinter van full of keys\n\nAnd when she made it (When she made it)\nWhen she made it (When she made it)\nWe celebrated when she made it\nWhen she made it, when she made it, Stove\nPeace, God\nGod is love, God\nI love God\nEven with the devil on my shoulder\nGod is love, FLYGOD is forever\nBig Griselda, bigger villains\nOne beginning, one ending\n(Conductor)\n\nPut the flash on him\nBenny the Butcher, man, how you feel, dawg?\nAt the top of the world, but it's still all\nMy boy Westside Gunn, nigga\nPut me on his damn back, said, \"Get-Get 'em\"\nAnd never mind what they talkin' 'bout\nReal niggas pull the money out when the drama out\nReal nigga put the money down, the drum out\nMillionaire, put the llama out your mama mouth\nTake the money out the damn blouse, you on the couch\nPut the pistol in your daughter mouth, you on the couch\nWe gon' go around the corner with that Glock .50\nPoppin' off about a hundred at these pop niggas\nG-Wagon and I'm G baggin'\nBitch-ass nigga talkin' 'bout he heat clappin'\nAnd I done heard about your pussy ass\nNext time I catch your boy, he rolled up in grass\nCount the cash, count the cash when I'm livin' fast\nSo quick to do the homicide with the mask\nTake the mask off, broad day a nigga\nWhat the fuck you wanna do about that cold killer?\nChain vicious, what's the issue 'bout my damn dawgs?\nMy boy, F.N.F, man that's poppin' off\nLow-key, start to call\nTaboo, motherfucker, tell these niggas we goin' hard\nReal niggas do real things, but all many\nBitch-ass niggas gon' hate, that's all in 'em\nEnvyin' us niggas, that's jealously, all hate\nYou're desperate to see a nigga upstate\nThe real in my eyes couldn't let that shit ride\nD-I-E as a nigga swallow his pride\nNever take my pride or my motherfuckin' stripes\nKnee deep in the bullet, am I, huh?\nThe game be my wife, the lane be my ice\nThe .45 steel but a nigga brain twice\nThat .9 millimeter revolver nigga\nGot that, got that bitch poppin' off, I'll solve you niggas\nShoutouts to them boys who did that time\nTorence Hatch, you my nigga, I did that line\nWhen the first time I seen that boy go to the Earth\nThe first time I seen that boy go to the birth\n.38 Special, a killer, real right\nAnd every day I'm hittin' the block, all night\nF.N.F nigga, fuck niggas finances\nWhile the goddamn gold frame dances\nGriselda, by Fashion Rebels","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: God Is Love\n artist: Westside Gunn feat. Estee Nack, Stove God Cooks, & Keisha Plum\n album: '10'\n duration_ms: 321000\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n Conductor\n Woah, ah-hah\n Conductor, we have a problem\n Nackie Chan, wha-ta! (Coño)\n Yo, son\n\n Santo Domingo, helpin' the grasa get to the gringo\n As niggas watchin' us shine like kings, bro (Shining)\n Golden ring glow, a lot of blinging\n No Chingo (Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding)\n All my niggas are dogs like dingo (Woof, woof, woof, woof, woof)\n Call the bitches, the god might mingle (Mommy)\n Pack a forty-fifth and some hard white singles, yeah\n Forty dollars, a head buster, bell ringer\n Rake in the paper\n The stack of chips are tall like Pringles, son (Money)\n Took off a nigga roof and watch the\n Pieces of him lift and fall like shingles (Bah, bah, bah, bah)\n Pop the cork and toast the Veuve Clicquot\n Wе done made this shit work\n Although it's niggas that got exposеd in R.I.C.O. (Yeah)\n Can't believe he did dirt and really told on his people (He folded)\n In the streets, we deal with Os of perico (Word)\n Look at this nigga arm, you can tell by the inside (Uh-huh)\n His only use for it just to poke it with needles and shit (Fuck)\n He want it even more if he know if it's lethal (That's crazy)\n Ayo, we came up (Uh-huh), what, what? Been on my ten toes, yo (Nack)\n I tap the jumper like it's Dominican Dembow bro (Jokin')\n I feel invincible when I sit in the Benzo (Vroom)\n Got uppers and downers, Addies and benzos, yeah\n Diamond dancin' (Uh), nine-hundred and ninety-six grams\n We lost a few in the unwrappin', more in the pan (Yeah)\n Fuck it, the last twelve\n They dropped back like Randall Cunningham (They did)\n I had to hop step on it like Ja Morant (Haha)\n Then them tear pants with the candles (Stove)\n Scorpions on the Carmelo Anthony (Stove)\n They dropped me out the clouds\n I landed in coke water in the kitchen sink (Woo)\n The answer is me (Woo)\n I told the plug \"Make sure it's Tia Landry\n I want it to look like the last one you handed me\" (I do)\n He hopped out swingin' the chopper like a canopy (Brrt, bah, bah)\n I left my soul in the kitchen and my sanity (and my sanity)\n The flip phone do a hundred-grand a week\n Angela Bassett, I had it flamin' in the street (Haha)\n Fork in the pot, you hear the pan tink (Tink)\n Now I move it all hands-free\n My bitch doin' her make-up in the vanity, look like DaniLeigh (She do)\n I bought a Chanel bag, just to ride in a sprinter van full of keys\n\n And when she made it (When she made it)\n When she made it (When she made it)\n We celebrated when she made it\n When she made it, when she made it, Stove\n Peace, God\n God is love, God\n I love God\n Even with the devil on my shoulder\n God is love, FLYGOD is forever\n Big Griselda, bigger villains\n One beginning, one ending\n (Conductor)\n\n Put the flash on him\n Benny the Butcher, man, how you feel, dawg?\n At the top of the world, but it's still all\n My boy Westside Gunn, nigga\n Put me on his damn back, said, \"Get-Get 'em\"\n And never mind what they talkin' 'bout\n Real niggas pull the money out when the drama out\n Real nigga put the money down, the drum out\n Millionaire, put the llama out your mama mouth\n Take the money out the damn blouse, you on the couch\n Put the pistol in your daughter mouth, you on the couch\n We gon' go around the corner with that Glock .50\n Poppin' off about a hundred at these pop niggas\n G-Wagon and I'm G baggin'\n Bitch-ass nigga talkin' 'bout he heat clappin'\n And I done heard about your pussy ass\n Next time I catch your boy, he rolled up in grass\n Count the cash, count the cash when I'm livin' fast\n So quick to do the homicide with the mask\n Take the mask off, broad day a nigga\n What the fuck you wanna do about that cold killer?\n Chain vicious, what's the issue 'bout my damn dawgs?\n My boy, F.N.F, man that's poppin' off\n Low-key, start to call\n Taboo, motherfucker, tell these niggas we goin' hard\n Real niggas do real things, but all many\n Bitch-ass niggas gon' hate, that's all in 'em\n Envyin' us niggas, that's jealously, all hate\n You're desperate to see a nigga upstate\n The real in my eyes couldn't let that shit ride\n D-I-E as a nigga swallow his pride\n Never take my pride or my motherfuckin' stripes\n Knee deep in the bullet, am I, huh?\n The game be my wife, the lane be my ice\n The .45 steel but a nigga brain twice\n That .9 millimeter revolver nigga\n Got that, got that bitch poppin' off, I'll solve you niggas\n Shoutouts to them boys who did that time\n Torence Hatch, you my nigga, I did that line\n When the first time I seen that boy go to the Earth\n The first time I seen that boy go to the birth\n .38 Special, a killer, real right\n And every day I'm hittin' the block, all night\n F.N.F nigga, fuck niggas finances\n While the goddamn gold frame dances\n Griselda, by Fashion Rebels\n"},{"id":17307752,"name":"God Is Love","trackName":"God Is Love","artistName":"Westside Gunn feat. Estee Nack, Stove God Cooks, & Plum, Keisha","albumName":"10","duration":321.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Conductor\nWoah, ah-hah\nConductor, we have a problem\nNackie Chan, wha-ta! (Coño)\nYo, son\n\nSanto Domingo, helpin' the grasa get to the gringo\nAs niggas watchin' us shine like kings, bro (Shining)\nGolden ring glow, a lot of blinging\nNo Chingo (Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding)\nAll my niggas are dogs like dingo (Woof, woof, woof, woof, woof)\nCall the bitches, the god might mingle (Mommy)\nPack a forty-fifth and some hard white singles, yeah\nForty dollars, a head buster, bell ringer\nRake in the paper\nThe stack of chips are tall like Pringles, son (Money)\nTook off a nigga roof and watch the\nPieces of him lift and fall like shingles (Bah, bah, bah, bah)\nPop the cork and toast the Veuve Clicquot\nWе done made this shit work\nAlthough it's niggas that got exposеd in R.I.C.O. (Yeah)\nCan't believe he did dirt and really told on his people (He folded)\nIn the streets, we deal with Os of perico (Word)\nLook at this nigga arm, you can tell by the inside (Uh-huh)\nHis only use for it just to poke it with needles and shit (Fuck)\nHe want it even more if he know if it's lethal (That's crazy)\nAyo, we came up (Uh-huh), what, what? Been on my ten toes, yo (Nack)\nI tap the jumper like it's Dominican Dembow bro (Jokin')\nI feel invincible when I sit in the Benzo (Vroom)\nGot uppers and downers, Addies and benzos, yeah\nDiamond dancin' (Uh), nine-hundred and ninety-six grams\nWe lost a few in the unwrappin', more in the pan (Yeah)\nFuck it, the last twelve\nThey dropped back like Randall Cunningham (They did)\nI had to hop step on it like Ja Morant (Haha)\nThen them tear pants with the candles (Stove)\nScorpions on the Carmelo Anthony (Stove)\nThey dropped me out the clouds\nI landed in coke water in the kitchen sink (Woo)\nThe answer is me (Woo)\nI told the plug \"Make sure it's Tia Landry\nI want it to look like the last one you handed me\" (I do)\nHe hopped out swingin' the chopper like a canopy (Brrt, bah, bah)\nI left my soul in the kitchen and my sanity (and my sanity)\nThe flip phone do a hundred-grand a week\nAngela Bassett, I had it flamin' in the street (Haha)\nFork in the pot, you hear the pan tink (Tink)\nNow I move it all hands-free\nMy bitch doin' her make-up in the vanity, look like DaniLeigh (She do)\nI bought a Chanel bag, just to ride in a sprinter van full of keys\n\nAnd when she made it (When she made it)\nWhen she made it (When she made it)\nWe celebrated when she made it\nWhen she made it, when she made it, Stove\nPeace, God\nGod is love, God\nI love God\nEven with the devil on my shoulder\nGod is love, FLYGOD is forever\nBig Griselda, bigger villains\nOne beginning, one ending\n(Conductor)\n\nPut the flash on him\nBenny the Butcher, man, how you feel, dawg?\nAt the top of the world, but it's still all\nMy boy Westside Gunn, nigga\nPut me on his damn back, said, \"Get-Get 'em\"\nAnd never mind what they talkin' 'bout\nReal niggas pull the money out when the drama out\nReal nigga put the money down, the drum out\nMillionaire, put the llama out your mama mouth\nTake the money out the damn blouse, you on the couch\nPut the pistol in your daughter mouth, you on the couch\nWe gon' go around the corner with that Glock .50\nPoppin' off about a hundred at these pop niggas\nG-Wagon and I'm G baggin'\nBitch-ass nigga talkin' 'bout he heat clappin'\nAnd I done heard about your pussy ass\nNext time I catch your boy, he rolled up in grass\nCount the cash, count the cash when I'm livin' fast\nSo quick to do the homicide with the mask\nTake the mask off, broad day a nigga\nWhat the fuck you wanna do about that cold killer?\nChain vicious, what's the issue 'bout my damn dawgs?\nMy boy, F.N.F, man that's poppin' off\nLow-key, start to call\nTaboo, motherfucker, tell these niggas we goin' hard\nReal niggas do real things, but all many\nBitch-ass niggas gon' hate, that's all in 'em\nEnvyin' us niggas, that's jealously, all hate\nYou're desperate to see a nigga upstate\nThe real in my eyes couldn't let that shit ride\nD-I-E as a nigga swallow his pride\nNever take my pride or my motherfuckin' stripes\nKnee deep in the bullet, am I, huh?\nThe game be my wife, the lane be my ice\nThe .45 steel but a nigga brain twice\nThat .9 millimeter revolver nigga\nGot that, got that bitch poppin' off, I'll solve you niggas\nShoutouts to them boys who did that time\nTorence Hatch, you my nigga, I did that line\nWhen the first time I seen that boy go to the Earth\nThe first time I seen that boy go to the birth\n.38 Special, a killer, real right\nAnd every day I'm hittin' the block, all night\nF.N.F nigga, fuck niggas finances\nWhile the goddamn gold frame dances\nGriselda, by Fashion Rebels","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: God Is Love\n artist: Westside Gunn feat. Estee Nack, Stove God Cooks, & Plum, Keisha\n album: '10'\n duration_ms: 321000\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n Conductor\n Woah, ah-hah\n Conductor, we have a problem\n Nackie Chan, wha-ta! (Coño)\n Yo, son\n\n Santo Domingo, helpin' the grasa get to the gringo\n As niggas watchin' us shine like kings, bro (Shining)\n Golden ring glow, a lot of blinging\n No Chingo (Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding)\n All my niggas are dogs like dingo (Woof, woof, woof, woof, woof)\n Call the bitches, the god might mingle (Mommy)\n Pack a forty-fifth and some hard white singles, yeah\n Forty dollars, a head buster, bell ringer\n Rake in the paper\n The stack of chips are tall like Pringles, son (Money)\n Took off a nigga roof and watch the\n Pieces of him lift and fall like shingles (Bah, bah, bah, bah)\n Pop the cork and toast the Veuve Clicquot\n Wе done made this shit work\n Although it's niggas that got exposеd in R.I.C.O. (Yeah)\n Can't believe he did dirt and really told on his people (He folded)\n In the streets, we deal with Os of perico (Word)\n Look at this nigga arm, you can tell by the inside (Uh-huh)\n His only use for it just to poke it with needles and shit (Fuck)\n He want it even more if he know if it's lethal (That's crazy)\n Ayo, we came up (Uh-huh), what, what? Been on my ten toes, yo (Nack)\n I tap the jumper like it's Dominican Dembow bro (Jokin')\n I feel invincible when I sit in the Benzo (Vroom)\n Got uppers and downers, Addies and benzos, yeah\n Diamond dancin' (Uh), nine-hundred and ninety-six grams\n We lost a few in the unwrappin', more in the pan (Yeah)\n Fuck it, the last twelve\n They dropped back like Randall Cunningham (They did)\n I had to hop step on it like Ja Morant (Haha)\n Then them tear pants with the candles (Stove)\n Scorpions on the Carmelo Anthony (Stove)\n They dropped me out the clouds\n I landed in coke water in the kitchen sink (Woo)\n The answer is me (Woo)\n I told the plug \"Make sure it's Tia Landry\n I want it to look like the last one you handed me\" (I do)\n He hopped out swingin' the chopper like a canopy (Brrt, bah, bah)\n I left my soul in the kitchen and my sanity (and my sanity)\n The flip phone do a hundred-grand a week\n Angela Bassett, I had it flamin' in the street (Haha)\n Fork in the pot, you hear the pan tink (Tink)\n Now I move it all hands-free\n My bitch doin' her make-up in the vanity, look like DaniLeigh (She do)\n I bought a Chanel bag, just to ride in a sprinter van full of keys\n\n And when she made it (When she made it)\n When she made it (When she made it)\n We celebrated when she made it\n When she made it, when she made it, Stove\n Peace, God\n God is love, God\n I love God\n Even with the devil on my shoulder\n God is love, FLYGOD is forever\n Big Griselda, bigger villains\n One beginning, one ending\n (Conductor)\n\n Put the flash on him\n Benny the Butcher, man, how you feel, dawg?\n At the top of the world, but it's still all\n My boy Westside Gunn, nigga\n Put me on his damn back, said, \"Get-Get 'em\"\n And never mind what they talkin' 'bout\n Real niggas pull the money out when the drama out\n Real nigga put the money down, the drum out\n Millionaire, put the llama out your mama mouth\n Take the money out the damn blouse, you on the couch\n Put the pistol in your daughter mouth, you on the couch\n We gon' go around the corner with that Glock .50\n Poppin' off about a hundred at these pop niggas\n G-Wagon and I'm G baggin'\n Bitch-ass nigga talkin' 'bout he heat clappin'\n And I done heard about your pussy ass\n Next time I catch your boy, he rolled up in grass\n Count the cash, count the cash when I'm livin' fast\n So quick to do the homicide with the mask\n Take the mask off, broad day a nigga\n What the fuck you wanna do about that cold killer?\n Chain vicious, what's the issue 'bout my damn dawgs?\n My boy, F.N.F, man that's poppin' off\n Low-key, start to call\n Taboo, motherfucker, tell these niggas we goin' hard\n Real niggas do real things, but all many\n Bitch-ass niggas gon' hate, that's all in 'em\n Envyin' us niggas, that's jealously, all hate\n You're desperate to see a nigga upstate\n The real in my eyes couldn't let that shit ride\n D-I-E as a nigga swallow his pride\n Never take my pride or my motherfuckin' stripes\n Knee deep in the bullet, am I, huh?\n The game be my wife, the lane be my ice\n The .45 steel but a nigga brain twice\n That .9 millimeter revolver nigga\n Got that, got that bitch poppin' off, I'll solve you niggas\n Shoutouts to them boys who did that time\n Torence Hatch, you my nigga, I did that line\n When the first time I seen that boy go to the Earth\n The first time I seen that boy go to the birth\n .38 Special, a killer, real right\n And every day I'm hittin' the block, all night\n F.N.F nigga, fuck niggas finances\n While the goddamn gold frame dances\n Griselda, by Fashion Rebels\n"},{"id":19804353,"name":"God Is Love (feat. Estee Nack, Stove God Cooks & Keisha Plum)","trackName":"God Is Love (feat. Estee Nack, Stove God Cooks & Keisha Plum)","artistName":"Westside Gunn, Estee Nack, Stove God Cooks, Keisha Plum","albumName":"10","duration":321.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Conductor\nWoah, ah-hah\nConductor, we have a problem\nNackie Chan, wha-ta! (Coño)\nYo, son\n\nSanto Domingo, helpin' the grasa get to the gringo\nAs niggas watchin' us shine like kings, bro (Shining)\nGolden ring glow, a lot of blinging\nNo Chingo (Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding)\nAll my niggas are dogs like dingo (Woof, woof, woof, woof, woof)\nCall the bitches, the god might mingle (Mommy)\nPack a forty-fifth and some hard white singles, yeah\nForty dollars, a head buster, bell ringer\nRake in the paper\nThe stack of chips are tall like Pringles, son (Money)\nTook off a nigga roof and watch the\nPieces of him lift and fall like shingles (Bah, bah, bah, bah)\nPop the cork and toast the Veuve Clicquot\nWе done made this shit work\nAlthough it's niggas that got exposеd in R.I.C.O. (Yeah)\nCan't believe he did dirt and really told on his people (He folded)\nIn the streets, we deal with Os of perico (Word)\nLook at this nigga arm, you can tell by the inside (Uh-huh)\nHis only use for it just to poke it with needles and shit (Fuck)\nHe want it even more if he know if it's lethal (That's crazy)\nAyo, we came up (Uh-huh), what, what? Been on my ten toes, yo (Nack)\nI tap the jumper like it's Dominican Dembow bro (Jokin')\nI feel invincible when I sit in the Benzo (Vroom)\nGot uppers and downers, Addies and benzos, yeah\nDiamond dancin' (Uh), nine-hundred and ninety-six grams\nWe lost a few in the unwrappin', more in the pan (Yeah)\nFuck it, the last twelve\nThey dropped back like Randall Cunningham (They did)\nI had to hop step on it like Ja Morant (Haha)\nThen them tear pants with the candles (Stove)\nScorpions on the Carmelo Anthony (Stove)\nThey dropped me out the clouds\nI landed in coke water in the kitchen sink (Woo)\nThe answer is me (Woo)\nI told the plug \"Make sure it's Tia Landry\nI want it to look like the last one you handed me\" (I do)\nHe hopped out swingin' the chopper like a canopy (Brrt, bah, bah)\nI left my soul in the kitchen and my sanity (and my sanity)\nThe flip phone do a hundred-grand a week\nAngela Bassett, I had it flamin' in the street (Haha)\nFork in the pot, you hear the pan tink (Tink)\nNow I move it all hands-free\nMy bitch doin' her make-up in the vanity, look like DaniLeigh (She do)\nI bought a Chanel bag, just to ride in a sprinter van full of keys\n\nAnd when she made it (When she made it)\nWhen she made it (When she made it)\nWe celebrated when she made it\nWhen she made it, when she made it, Stove\nPeace, God\nGod is love, God\nI love God\nEven with the devil on my shoulder\nGod is love, FLYGOD is forever\nBig Griselda, bigger villains\nOne beginning, one ending\n(Conductor)\n\nPut the flash on him\nBenny the Butcher, man, how you feel, dawg?\nAt the top of the world, but it's still all\nMy boy Westside Gunn, nigga\nPut me on his damn back, said, \"Get-Get 'em\"\nAnd never mind what they talkin' 'bout\nReal niggas pull the money out when the drama out\nReal nigga put the money down, the drum out\nMillionaire, put the llama out your mama mouth\nTake the money out the damn blouse, you on the couch\nPut the pistol in your daughter mouth, you on the couch\nWe gon' go around the corner with that Glock .50\nPoppin' off about a hundred at these pop niggas\nG-Wagon and I'm G baggin'\nBitch-ass nigga talkin' 'bout he heat clappin'\nAnd I done heard about your pussy ass\nNext time I catch your boy, he rolled up in grass\nCount the cash, count the cash when I'm livin' fast\nSo quick to do the homicide with the mask\nTake the mask off, broad day a nigga\nWhat the fuck you wanna do about that cold killer?\nChain vicious, what's the issue 'bout my damn dawgs?\nMy boy, F.N.F, man that's poppin' off\nLow-key, start to call\nTaboo, motherfucker, tell these niggas we goin' hard\nReal niggas do real things, but all many\nBitch-ass niggas gon' hate, that's all in 'em\nEnvyin' us niggas, that's jealously, all hate\nYou're desperate to see a nigga upstate\nThe real in my eyes couldn't let that shit ride\nD-I-E as a nigga swallow his pride\nNever take my pride or my motherfuckin' stripes\nKnee deep in the bullet, am I, huh?\nThe game be my wife, the lane be my ice\nThe .45 steel but a nigga brain twice\nThat .9 millimeter revolver nigga\nGot that, got that bitch poppin' off, I'll solve you niggas\nShoutouts to them boys who did that time\nTorence Hatch, you my nigga, I did that line\nWhen the first time I seen that boy go to the Earth\nThe first time I seen that boy go to the birth\n.38 Special, a killer, real right\nAnd every day I'm hittin' the block, all night\nF.N.F nigga, fuck niggas finances\nWhile the goddamn gold frame dances\nGriselda, by Fashion Rebels","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: God Is Love (feat. Estee Nack, Stove God Cooks & Keisha Plum)\n artist: Westside Gunn, Estee Nack, Stove God Cooks, Keisha Plum\n album: '10'\n duration_ms: 321000\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n Conductor\n Woah, ah-hah\n Conductor, we have a problem\n Nackie Chan, wha-ta! (Coño)\n Yo, son\n\n Santo Domingo, helpin' the grasa get to the gringo\n As niggas watchin' us shine like kings, bro (Shining)\n Golden ring glow, a lot of blinging\n No Chingo (Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding)\n All my niggas are dogs like dingo (Woof, woof, woof, woof, woof)\n Call the bitches, the god might mingle (Mommy)\n Pack a forty-fifth and some hard white singles, yeah\n Forty dollars, a head buster, bell ringer\n Rake in the paper\n The stack of chips are tall like Pringles, son (Money)\n Took off a nigga roof and watch the\n Pieces of him lift and fall like shingles (Bah, bah, bah, bah)\n Pop the cork and toast the Veuve Clicquot\n Wе done made this shit work\n Although it's niggas that got exposеd in R.I.C.O. (Yeah)\n Can't believe he did dirt and really told on his people (He folded)\n In the streets, we deal with Os of perico (Word)\n Look at this nigga arm, you can tell by the inside (Uh-huh)\n His only use for it just to poke it with needles and shit (Fuck)\n He want it even more if he know if it's lethal (That's crazy)\n Ayo, we came up (Uh-huh), what, what? Been on my ten toes, yo (Nack)\n I tap the jumper like it's Dominican Dembow bro (Jokin')\n I feel invincible when I sit in the Benzo (Vroom)\n Got uppers and downers, Addies and benzos, yeah\n Diamond dancin' (Uh), nine-hundred and ninety-six grams\n We lost a few in the unwrappin', more in the pan (Yeah)\n Fuck it, the last twelve\n They dropped back like Randall Cunningham (They did)\n I had to hop step on it like Ja Morant (Haha)\n Then them tear pants with the candles (Stove)\n Scorpions on the Carmelo Anthony (Stove)\n They dropped me out the clouds\n I landed in coke water in the kitchen sink (Woo)\n The answer is me (Woo)\n I told the plug \"Make sure it's Tia Landry\n I want it to look like the last one you handed me\" (I do)\n He hopped out swingin' the chopper like a canopy (Brrt, bah, bah)\n I left my soul in the kitchen and my sanity (and my sanity)\n The flip phone do a hundred-grand a week\n Angela Bassett, I had it flamin' in the street (Haha)\n Fork in the pot, you hear the pan tink (Tink)\n Now I move it all hands-free\n My bitch doin' her make-up in the vanity, look like DaniLeigh (She do)\n I bought a Chanel bag, just to ride in a sprinter van full of keys\n\n And when she made it (When she made it)\n When she made it (When she made it)\n We celebrated when she made it\n When she made it, when she made it, Stove\n Peace, God\n God is love, God\n I love God\n Even with the devil on my shoulder\n God is love, FLYGOD is forever\n Big Griselda, bigger villains\n One beginning, one ending\n (Conductor)\n\n Put the flash on him\n Benny the Butcher, man, how you feel, dawg?\n At the top of the world, but it's still all\n My boy Westside Gunn, nigga\n Put me on his damn back, said, \"Get-Get 'em\"\n And never mind what they talkin' 'bout\n Real niggas pull the money out when the drama out\n Real nigga put the money down, the drum out\n Millionaire, put the llama out your mama mouth\n Take the money out the damn blouse, you on the couch\n Put the pistol in your daughter mouth, you on the couch\n We gon' go around the corner with that Glock .50\n Poppin' off about a hundred at these pop niggas\n G-Wagon and I'm G baggin'\n Bitch-ass nigga talkin' 'bout he heat clappin'\n And I done heard about your pussy ass\n Next time I catch your boy, he rolled up in grass\n Count the cash, count the cash when I'm livin' fast\n So quick to do the homicide with the mask\n Take the mask off, broad day a nigga\n What the fuck you wanna do about that cold killer?\n Chain vicious, what's the issue 'bout my damn dawgs?\n My boy, F.N.F, man that's poppin' off\n Low-key, start to call\n Taboo, motherfucker, tell these niggas we goin' hard\n Real niggas do real things, but all many\n Bitch-ass niggas gon' hate, that's all in 'em\n Envyin' us niggas, that's jealously, all hate\n You're desperate to see a nigga upstate\n The real in my eyes couldn't let that shit ride\n D-I-E as a nigga swallow his pride\n Never take my pride or my motherfuckin' stripes\n Knee deep in the bullet, am I, huh?\n The game be my wife, the lane be my ice\n The .45 steel but a nigga brain twice\n That .9 millimeter revolver nigga\n Got that, got that bitch poppin' off, I'll solve you niggas\n Shoutouts to them boys who did that time\n Torence Hatch, you my nigga, I did that line\n When the first time I seen that boy go to the Earth\n The first time I seen that boy go to the birth\n .38 Special, a killer, real right\n And every day I'm hittin' the block, all night\n F.N.F nigga, fuck niggas finances\n While the goddamn gold frame dances\n Griselda, by Fashion Rebels\n"},{"id":26571603,"name":"God Is Love (feat. Estee Nack, Keisha Plum & Stove God Cooks)","trackName":"God Is Love (feat. Estee Nack, Keisha Plum & Stove God Cooks)","artistName":"Westside Gunn, Estee Nack, Keisha Plum, Stove God Cooks","albumName":"10","duration":321.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(Conductor)\nWhoa, ah-ha\n(Conductor, we have a problem)\nNackie Chan, wha-ta! (Coño!)\nYo, son\n\nSanto Domingo, helpin' the grasa get to the gringo\nAs niggas watchin' us shine like kings, bro (Shining!)\nGolden ring glow, a lot of blinging, no Chingo\nAll my niggas are dogs like dingo\nCall the bitches, the god might mingle (Mommy!)\nPack a forty-fifth and some hard white singles, yeah (Click!)\nForty dollars, a head buster, bell-ringer\nRake in the paper, the stack of chips are tall like Pringles, son (Money)\nTook off a niggas roof and watch\nPieces of him lift and fall like shingles- (Bah, bah, bah, bah!)\nPop the cork and toast the Veuve Clicquot\nWe done made this shit work\nAlthough it's niggas that got exposed in R.I.C.O (Yeah)\nCan't believe he did dirt and really told on his people (He folded!)\nIn the streets, we deal with Os of perico (Word)\nLook at this niggas arm, you can tell by the inside (Uh-huh)\nHis only use for it, just to poke it with needles and shit (Fuck)\nHe want it even more if he know if it's lethal (That's crazy!)\nAye, yo, we came up, what, what? Been on my ten toes, yo (Uh-huh, Nack)\nI tap the jumper like it's Dominican Dembow bro (Joking!)\nI feel invincible when I sit in the Benzo (Vroom!)\nGot uppers and downers, Addies and benzos, yeah\n\nDiamonds dancin'(Uh), nine-hundred and ninety-six grams\nWe lost a few in the unwrappin', more in the pan (Yeah)\nFuck it, the last twelve, they dropped back like Randall Cunningham (They did!)\nI had to hop step on it like Ja Morant (Ha-ha!)\nDenim tear pants with the candles (Stove)\nScorpions on the Carmelo Anthony (Stove!)\nThey dropped me out the clouds\nI landed in coke water in the kitchen sink (Woo!)\nThe answer is me (Wooo!)\nI told the plug, \"Make sure it's Tia Landry\nI want it to look like the last one you handed me\" (I do)\nHe hopped out swingin' the chopper like a canopy (Brrrt, bah, bah, bah!)\nI left my soul in the kitchen in my sanity (In my sanity)\nThe flip phone do a hundred grand a week\nAngela Bassett, I had it flamin' in the street (Ha ha!)\nFork in the pot, you hear the pan tink (Tink, tink)\nNow I move it all hands-free\nMy bitch doin' her make-up in the vanity, look like DaniLeigh (She do!)\nI bought a Chanel bag, just to ride in a Sprinter van full of keys\n\nAnd when she made it\nWhen she made it\nWhen she made it\nWhen she made it\nWe celebrated when she made it\nWhen she made it, when she made it\nStove\n(Ha-Ha-Ha! Ha-Hah)\n\nPeace, God\nGod is love, God\nI love God\nEven with the devil on my shoulder- \nGod is love, FLYGOD is forever\nBig Griselda, bigger villains\nOne beginning, one ending\n(Conductor)\n\nPut the flash on him-\nBenny the Butcher, man, how you feel, dawg?\nAt the top of the world, but it's still all\nMy boy Westside Gunn, nigga\nPut me on his damn back, said, \"Get-get 'em\"\nAnd never mind what they talkin' 'bout\nReal niggas pull the money out when the drama out\nReal nigga put the money down, the drum out\nMillionaire, put the llama out your mama mouth\nTake the money out the damn bus, you on the couch\nPut the pistol in your daughter mouth, you on the couch\nWe gon' go around the corner with that Glock .50\nPoppin' off about a hundred at these pop niggas\nG-Wagon and I'm G baggin'\nBitch-ass nigga talkin' 'bout he \"heat clappin'\"\"\nAnd I done heard about yo' pussy ass\nNext time I catch you, boy, you rolled up in grass\nCount the cash, count the cash when I'm livin' fast\nSo quick to do the homicide with the mask\nTake the mask off, broad-day a nigga\nWhat the fuck you wanna do about that cold killer?\nChain vicious, what's the issue 'bout my damn dawgs?\nMy boy, F.N.F., man, that's poppin' off\nLow-key, start to call\nTaboo, motherfucker, tell these niggas we goin' hard\nReal nigga do real things, but all many\nBitch-ass niggas gon' hate, that's all in 'em\nEnvyin' us niggas, they jealous, they all hate\nYou're desperate to see a nigga upstate\nThe real in my eyes couldn't let that shit ride\nD-I-E as a nigga swallow his pride\nNever take my pride or my motherfuckin' stripes\nKnee deep in the bullet, am I, huh?\nThe game be my wife, the lane be my ice\nThe .45 steel, but a nigga brain twice\nThat .9 millimeter revolver nigga\nGot that, got that bitch poppin' off, 'fore I solve you niggas\nShoutin'-outs to them boys who did that time\nTorrence Hatch, you my nigga, I did that line\nWhen the first time I seen that boy go to the earth\nThe first time I seen that boy go to the birth\n.38 Special, a killer, real right\nAnd every dime who hatin' the block all night\nF.N.F., nigga, fuck niggas finances\nWhile the goddamn gold frame dances\nGriselda\nby Fashion Rebels\n","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.00](Conductor)\n[00:02.87]Whoa, ah-ha\n[00:05.70](Conductor, we have a problem)\n[00:06.60]Nackie Chan, wha-ta! (Coño!)\n[00:13.24]Yo, son\n\n[00:14.90]Santo Domingo, helpin' the grasa get to the gringo\n[00:18.67]As niggas watchin' us shine like kings, bro (Shining!)\n[00:22.15]Golden ring glow, a lot of blinging, no Chingo\n[00:26.03]All my niggas are dogs like dingo\n[00:29.44]Call the bitches, the god might mingle (Mommy!)\n[00:32.49]Pack a forty-fifth and some hard white singles, yeah (Click!)\n[00:36.19]Forty dollars, a head buster, bell-ringer\n[00:38.97]Rake in the paper, the stack of chips are tall like Pringles, son (Money)\n[00:43.35]Took off a niggas roof and watch\n[00:45.30]Pieces of him lift and fall like shingles- (Bah, bah, bah, bah!)\n[00:48.35]Pop the cork and toast the Veuve Clicquot\n[00:51.00]We done made this shit work\n[00:52.25]Although it's niggas that got exposed in R.I.C.O (Yeah)\n[00:55.30]Can't believe he did dirt and really told on his people (He folded!)\n[00:58.45]In the streets, we deal with Os of perico (Word)\n[01:01.10]Look at this niggas arm, you can tell by the inside (Uh-huh)\n[01:04.42]His only use for it, just to poke it with needles and shit (Fuck)\n[01:07.87]He want it even more if he know if it's lethal (That's crazy!)\n[01:10.80]Aye, yo, we came up, what, what? Been on my ten toes, yo (Uh-huh, Nack)\n[01:15.25]I tap the jumper like it's Dominican Dembow bro (Joking!)\n[01:18.75]I feel invincible when I sit in the Benzo (Vroom!)\n[01:21.60]Got uppers and downers, Addies and benzos, yeah\n\n[01:24.40]Diamonds dancin'(Uh), nine-hundred and ninety-six grams\n[01:28.16]We lost a few in the unwrappin', more in the pan (Yeah)\n[01:31.48]Fuck it, the last twelve, they dropped back like Randall Cunningham (They did!)\n[01:35.14]I had to hop step on it like Ja Morant (Ha-ha!)\n[01:38.46]Denim tear pants with the candles (Stove)\n[01:40.90]Scorpions on the Carmelo Anthony (Stove!)\n[01:43.36]They dropped me out the clouds\n[01:44.59]I landed in coke water in the kitchen sink (Woo!)\n[01:47.35]The answer is me (Wooo!)\n[01:49.02]I told the plug, \"Make sure it's Tia Landry\n[01:51.20]I want it to look like the last one you handed me\" (I do)\n[01:54.30]He hopped out swingin' the chopper like a canopy (Brrrt, bah, bah, bah!)\n[01:57.98]I left my soul in the kitchen in my sanity (In my sanity)\n[02:01.37]The flip phone do a hundred grand a week\n[02:03.68]Angela Bassett, I had it flamin' in the street (Ha ha!)\n[02:07.30]Fork in the pot, you hear the pan tink (Tink, tink)\n[02:10.25]Now I move it all hands-free\n[02:12.13]My bitch doin' her make-up in the vanity, look like DaniLeigh (She do!)\n[02:15.60]I bought a Chanel bag, just to ride in a Sprinter van full of keys\n\n[02:19.49]And when she made it\n[02:20.61]When she made it\n[02:21.50]When she made it\n[02:22.38]When she made it\n[02:23.77]We celebrated when she made it\n[02:26.62]When she made it, when she made it\n[02:31.46]Stove\n[02:33.87](Ha-Ha-Ha! Ha-Hah)\n\n[02:37.81]Peace, God\n[02:39.50]God is love, God\n[02:41.90]I love God\n[02:44.10]Even with the devil on my shoulder- \n[02:47.80]God is love, FLYGOD is forever\n[02:51.60]Big Griselda, bigger villains\n[02:55.25]One beginning, one ending\n[02:58.25](Conductor)\n\n[03:02.15]Put the flash on him-\n[03:03.58]Benny the Butcher, man, how you feel, dawg?\n[03:06.56]At the top of the world, but it's still all\n[03:09.92]My boy Westside Gunn, nigga\n[03:12.31]Put me on his damn back, said, \"Get-get 'em\"\n[03:15.74]And never mind what they talkin' 'bout\n[03:17.75]Real niggas pull the money out when the drama out\n[03:20.81]Real nigga put the money down, the drum out\n[03:23.63]Millionaire, put the llama out your mama mouth\n[03:26.54]Take the money out the damn bus, you on the couch\n[03:29.55]Put the pistol in your daughter mouth, you on the couch\n[03:32.45]We gon' go around the corner with that Glock .50\n[03:35.33]Poppin' off about a hundred at these pop niggas\n[03:38.83]G-Wagon and I'm G baggin'\n[03:41.05]Bitch-ass nigga talkin' 'bout he \"heat clappin'\"\"\n[03:44.30]And I done heard about yo' pussy ass\n[03:46.70]Next time I catch you, boy, you rolled up in grass\n[03:49.61]Count the cash, count the cash when I'm livin' fast\n[03:52.55]So quick to do the homicide with the mask\n[03:55.31]Take the mask off, broad-day a nigga\n[03:58.15]What the fuck you wanna do about that cold killer?\n[04:01.00]Chain vicious, what's the issue 'bout my damn dawgs?\n[04:04.12]My boy, F.N.F., man, that's poppin' off\n[04:06.78]Low-key, start to call\n[04:08.78]Taboo, motherfucker, tell these niggas we goin' hard\n[04:12.17]Real nigga do real things, but all many\n[04:15.07]Bitch-ass niggas gon' hate, that's all in 'em\n[04:17.95]Envyin' us niggas, they jealous, they all hate\n[04:20.60]You're desperate to see a nigga upstate\n[04:23.55]The real in my eyes couldn't let that shit ride\n[04:26.58]D-I-E as a nigga swallow his pride\n[04:29.40]Never take my pride or my motherfuckin' stripes\n[04:32.30]Knee deep in the bullet, am I, huh?\n[04:35.15]The game be my wife, the lane be my ice\n[04:38.00]The .45 steel, but a nigga brain twice\n[04:40.94]That .9 millimeter revolver nigga\n[04:43.41]Got that, got that bitch poppin' off, 'fore I solve you niggas\n[04:46.55]Shoutin'-outs to them boys who did that time\n[04:49.42]Torrence Hatch, you my nigga, I did that line\n[04:52.29]When the first time I seen that boy go to the earth\n[04:55.25]The first time I seen that boy go to the birth\n[04:58.25].38 Special, a killer, real right\n[05:00.95]And every dime who hatin' the block all night\n[05:04.05]F.N.F., nigga, fuck niggas finances\n[05:07.22]While the goddamn gold frame dances\n[05:09.83]Griselda\n[05:12.45]by Fashion Rebels\n[05:21.23]","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: God Is Love (feat. Estee Nack, Keisha Plum & Stove God Cooks)\n artist: Westside Gunn, Estee Nack, Keisha Plum, Stove God Cooks\n album: '10'\n duration_ms: 321000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: (Conductor)\n start_ms: 0\n end_ms: 2870\n- text: Whoa, ah-ha\n start_ms: 2870\n end_ms: 5700\n- text: (Conductor, we have a problem)\n start_ms: 5700\n end_ms: 6600\n- text: Nackie Chan, wha-ta! (Coño!)\n start_ms: 6600\n end_ms: 13240\n- text: Yo, son\n start_ms: 13240\n end_ms: 14900\n- text: Santo Domingo, helpin' the grasa get to the gringo\n start_ms: 14900\n end_ms: 18670\n- text: As niggas watchin' us shine like kings, bro (Shining!)\n start_ms: 18670\n end_ms: 22150\n- text: Golden ring glow, a lot of blinging, no Chingo\n start_ms: 22150\n end_ms: 26030\n- text: All my niggas are dogs like dingo\n start_ms: 26030\n end_ms: 29440\n- text: Call the bitches, the god might mingle (Mommy!)\n start_ms: 29440\n end_ms: 32490\n- text: Pack a forty-fifth and some hard white singles, yeah (Click!)\n start_ms: 32490\n end_ms: 36190\n- text: Forty dollars, a head buster, bell-ringer\n start_ms: 36190\n end_ms: 38970\n- text: Rake in the paper, the stack of chips are tall like Pringles, son (Money)\n start_ms: 38970\n end_ms: 43350\n- text: Took off a niggas roof and watch\n start_ms: 43350\n end_ms: 45300\n- text: Pieces of him lift and fall like shingles- (Bah, bah, bah, bah!)\n start_ms: 45300\n end_ms: 48350\n- text: Pop the cork and toast the Veuve Clicquot\n start_ms: 48350\n end_ms: 51000\n- text: We done made this shit work\n start_ms: 51000\n end_ms: 52250\n- text: Although it's niggas that got exposed in R.I.C.O (Yeah)\n start_ms: 52250\n end_ms: 55300\n- text: Can't believe he did dirt and really told on his people (He folded!)\n start_ms: 55300\n end_ms: 58450\n- text: In the streets, we deal with Os of perico (Word)\n start_ms: 58450\n end_ms: 61100\n- text: Look at this niggas arm, you can tell by the inside (Uh-huh)\n start_ms: 61100\n end_ms: 64420\n- text: His only use for it, just to poke it with needles and shit (Fuck)\n start_ms: 64420\n end_ms: 67870\n- text: He want it even more if he know if it's lethal (That's crazy!)\n start_ms: 67870\n end_ms: 70800\n- text: Aye, yo, we came up, what, what? Been on my ten toes, yo (Uh-huh, Nack)\n start_ms: 70800\n end_ms: 75250\n- text: I tap the jumper like it's Dominican Dembow bro (Joking!)\n start_ms: 75250\n end_ms: 78750\n- text: I feel invincible when I sit in the Benzo (Vroom!)\n start_ms: 78750\n end_ms: 81600\n- text: Got uppers and downers, Addies and benzos, yeah\n start_ms: 81600\n end_ms: 84400\n- text: Diamonds dancin'(Uh), nine-hundred and ninety-six grams\n start_ms: 84400\n end_ms: 88160\n- text: We lost a few in the unwrappin', more in the pan (Yeah)\n start_ms: 88160\n end_ms: 91480\n- text: Fuck it, the last twelve, they dropped back like Randall Cunningham (They did!)\n start_ms: 91480\n end_ms: 95140\n- text: I had to hop step on it like Ja Morant (Ha-ha!)\n start_ms: 95140\n end_ms: 98460\n- text: Denim tear pants with the candles (Stove)\n start_ms: 98460\n end_ms: 100900\n- text: Scorpions on the Carmelo Anthony (Stove!)\n start_ms: 100900\n end_ms: 103360\n- text: They dropped me out the clouds\n start_ms: 103360\n end_ms: 104590\n- text: I landed in coke water in the kitchen sink (Woo!)\n start_ms: 104590\n end_ms: 107350\n- text: The answer is me (Wooo!)\n start_ms: 107350\n end_ms: 109020\n- text: I told the plug, \"Make sure it's Tia Landry\n start_ms: 109020\n end_ms: 111200\n- text: I want it to look like the last one you handed me\" (I do)\n start_ms: 111200\n end_ms: 114300\n- text: He hopped out swingin' the chopper like a canopy (Brrrt, bah, bah, bah!)\n start_ms: 114300\n end_ms: 117980\n- text: I left my soul in the kitchen in my sanity (In my sanity)\n start_ms: 117980\n end_ms: 121370\n- text: The flip phone do a hundred grand a week\n start_ms: 121370\n end_ms: 123680\n- text: Angela Bassett, I had it flamin' in the street (Ha ha!)\n start_ms: 123680\n end_ms: 127300\n- text: Fork in the pot, you hear the pan tink (Tink, tink)\n start_ms: 127300\n end_ms: 130250\n- text: Now I move it all hands-free\n start_ms: 130250\n end_ms: 132130\n- text: My bitch doin' her make-up in the vanity, look like DaniLeigh (She do!)\n start_ms: 132130\n end_ms: 135600\n- text: I bought a Chanel bag, just to ride in a Sprinter van full of keys\n start_ms: 135600\n end_ms: 139490\n- text: And when she made it\n start_ms: 139490\n end_ms: 140610\n- text: When she made it\n start_ms: 140610\n end_ms: 141500\n- text: When she made it\n start_ms: 141500\n end_ms: 142380\n- text: When she made it\n start_ms: 142380\n end_ms: 143770\n- text: We celebrated when she made it\n start_ms: 143770\n end_ms: 146620\n- text: When she made it, when she made it\n start_ms: 146620\n end_ms: 151460\n- text: Stove\n start_ms: 151460\n end_ms: 153870\n- text: (Ha-Ha-Ha! Ha-Hah)\n start_ms: 153870\n end_ms: 157810\n- text: Peace, God\n start_ms: 157810\n end_ms: 159500\n- text: God is love, God\n start_ms: 159500\n end_ms: 161900\n- text: I love God\n start_ms: 161900\n end_ms: 164100\n- text: Even with the devil on my shoulder-\n start_ms: 164100\n end_ms: 167800\n- text: God is love, FLYGOD is forever\n start_ms: 167800\n end_ms: 171600\n- text: Big Griselda, bigger villains\n start_ms: 171600\n end_ms: 175250\n- text: One beginning, one ending\n start_ms: 175250\n end_ms: 178250\n- text: (Conductor)\n start_ms: 178250\n end_ms: 182150\n- text: Put the flash on him-\n start_ms: 182150\n end_ms: 183580\n- text: Benny the Butcher, man, how you feel, dawg?\n start_ms: 183580\n end_ms: 186560\n- text: At the top of the world, but it's still all\n start_ms: 186560\n end_ms: 189920\n- text: My boy Westside Gunn, nigga\n start_ms: 189920\n end_ms: 192310\n- text: Put me on his damn back, said, \"Get-get 'em\"\n start_ms: 192310\n end_ms: 195740\n- text: And never mind what they talkin' 'bout\n start_ms: 195740\n end_ms: 197750\n- text: Real niggas pull the money out when the drama out\n start_ms: 197750\n end_ms: 200810\n- text: Real nigga put the money down, the drum out\n start_ms: 200810\n end_ms: 203630\n- text: Millionaire, put the llama out your mama mouth\n start_ms: 203630\n end_ms: 206540\n- text: Take the money out the damn bus, you on the couch\n start_ms: 206540\n end_ms: 209550\n- text: Put the pistol in your daughter mouth, you on the couch\n start_ms: 209550\n end_ms: 212450\n- text: We gon' go around the corner with that Glock .50\n start_ms: 212450\n end_ms: 215330\n- text: Poppin' off about a hundred at these pop niggas\n start_ms: 215330\n end_ms: 218830\n- text: G-Wagon and I'm G baggin'\n start_ms: 218830\n end_ms: 221050\n- text: Bitch-ass nigga talkin' 'bout he \"heat clappin'\"\"\n start_ms: 221050\n end_ms: 224300\n- text: And I done heard about yo' pussy ass\n start_ms: 224300\n end_ms: 226700\n- text: Next time I catch you, boy, you rolled up in grass\n start_ms: 226700\n end_ms: 229610\n- text: Count the cash, count the cash when I'm livin' fast\n start_ms: 229610\n end_ms: 232550\n- text: So quick to do the homicide with the mask\n start_ms: 232550\n end_ms: 235310\n- text: Take the mask off, broad-day a nigga\n start_ms: 235310\n end_ms: 238150\n- text: What the fuck you wanna do about that cold killer?\n start_ms: 238150\n end_ms: 241000\n- text: Chain vicious, what's the issue 'bout my damn dawgs?\n start_ms: 241000\n end_ms: 244120\n- text: My boy, F.N.F., man, that's poppin' off\n start_ms: 244120\n end_ms: 246780\n- text: Low-key, start to call\n start_ms: 246780\n end_ms: 248780\n- text: Taboo, motherfucker, tell these niggas we goin' hard\n start_ms: 248780\n end_ms: 252170\n- text: Real nigga do real things, but all many\n start_ms: 252170\n end_ms: 255070\n- text: Bitch-ass niggas gon' hate, that's all in 'em\n start_ms: 255070\n end_ms: 257950\n- text: Envyin' us niggas, they jealous, they all hate\n start_ms: 257950\n end_ms: 260600\n- text: You're desperate to see a nigga upstate\n start_ms: 260600\n end_ms: 263550\n- text: The real in my eyes couldn't let that shit ride\n start_ms: 263550\n end_ms: 266580\n- text: D-I-E as a nigga swallow his pride\n start_ms: 266580\n end_ms: 269400\n- text: Never take my pride or my motherfuckin' stripes\n start_ms: 269400\n end_ms: 272300\n- text: Knee deep in the bullet, am I, huh?\n start_ms: 272300\n end_ms: 275150\n- text: The game be my wife, the lane be my ice\n start_ms: 275150\n end_ms: 278000\n- text: The .45 steel, but a nigga brain twice\n start_ms: 278000\n end_ms: 280940\n- text: That .9 millimeter revolver nigga\n start_ms: 280940\n end_ms: 283410\n- text: Got that, got that bitch poppin' off, 'fore I solve you niggas\n start_ms: 283410\n end_ms: 286550\n- text: Shoutin'-outs to them boys who did that time\n start_ms: 286550\n end_ms: 289420\n- text: Torrence Hatch, you my nigga, I did that line\n start_ms: 289420\n end_ms: 292290\n- text: When the first time I seen that boy go to the earth\n start_ms: 292290\n end_ms: 295250\n- text: The first time I seen that boy go to the birth\n start_ms: 295250\n end_ms: 298250\n- text: .38 Special, a killer, real right\n start_ms: 298250\n end_ms: 300950\n- text: And every dime who hatin' the block all night\n start_ms: 300950\n end_ms: 304050\n- text: F.N.F., nigga, fuck niggas finances\n start_ms: 304050\n end_ms: 307220\n- text: While the goddamn gold frame dances\n start_ms: 307220\n end_ms: 309830\n- text: Griselda\n start_ms: 309830\n end_ms: 312450\n- text: by Fashion Rebels\n start_ms: 312450\n end_ms: 321230\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 321230\nplain: \"(Conductor)\\nWhoa, ah-ha\\n(Conductor, we have a problem)\\nNackie Chan, wha-ta! (Coño!)\\nYo, son\\n\\nSanto Domingo, helpin' the grasa get to the gringo\\nAs niggas watchin' us shine like kings, bro (Shining!)\\nGolden ring glow, a lot of blinging, no Chingo\\nAll my niggas are dogs like dingo\\nCall the bitches, the god might mingle (Mommy!)\\nPack a forty-fifth and some hard white singles, yeah (Click!)\\nForty dollars, a head buster, bell-ringer\\nRake in the paper, the stack of chips are tall like Pringles, son (Money)\\nTook off a niggas roof and watch\\nPieces of him lift and fall like shingles- (Bah, bah, bah, bah!)\\nPop the cork and toast the Veuve Clicquot\\nWe done made this shit work\\nAlthough it's niggas that got exposed in R.I.C.O (Yeah)\\nCan't believe he did dirt and really told on his people (He folded!)\\nIn the streets, we deal with Os of perico (Word)\\nLook at this niggas arm, you can tell by the inside (Uh-huh)\\nHis only use for it, just to poke it with needles and shit (Fuck)\\nHe want it even more if he know if it's lethal (That's crazy!)\\nAye, yo, we came up, what, what? Been on my ten toes, yo (Uh-huh, Nack)\\nI tap the jumper like it's Dominican Dembow bro (Joking!)\\nI feel invincible when I sit in the Benzo (Vroom!)\\nGot uppers and downers, Addies and benzos, yeah\\n\\nDiamonds dancin'(Uh), nine-hundred and ninety-six grams\\nWe lost a few in the unwrappin', more in the pan (Yeah)\\nFuck it, the last twelve, they dropped back like Randall Cunningham (They did!)\\nI had to hop step on it like Ja Morant (Ha-ha!)\\nDenim tear pants with the candles (Stove)\\nScorpions on the Carmelo Anthony (Stove!)\\nThey dropped me out the clouds\\nI landed in coke water in the kitchen sink (Woo!)\\nThe answer is me (Wooo!)\\nI told the plug, \\\"Make sure it's Tia Landry\\nI want it to look like the last one you handed me\\\" (I do)\\nHe hopped out swingin' the chopper like a canopy (Brrrt, bah, bah, bah!)\\nI left my soul in the kitchen in my sanity (In my sanity)\\nThe flip phone do a hundred grand a week\\nAngela Bassett, I had it flamin' in the street (Ha ha!)\\nFork in the pot, you hear the pan tink (Tink, tink)\\nNow I move it all hands-free\\nMy bitch doin' her make-up in the vanity, look like DaniLeigh (She do!)\\nI bought a Chanel bag, just to ride in a Sprinter van full of keys\\n\\nAnd when she made it\\nWhen she made it\\nWhen she made it\\nWhen she made it\\nWe celebrated when she made it\\nWhen she made it, when she made it\\nStove\\n(Ha-Ha-Ha! Ha-Hah)\\n\\nPeace, God\\nGod is love, God\\nI love God\\nEven with the devil on my shoulder- \\nGod is love, FLYGOD is forever\\nBig Griselda, bigger villains\\nOne beginning, one ending\\n(Conductor)\\n\\nPut the flash on him-\\nBenny the Butcher, man, how you feel, dawg?\\nAt the top of the world, but it's still all\\nMy boy Westside Gunn, nigga\\nPut me on his damn back, said, \\\"Get-get 'em\\\"\\nAnd never mind what they talkin' 'bout\\nReal niggas pull the money out when the drama out\\nReal nigga put the money down, the drum out\\nMillionaire, put the llama out your mama mouth\\nTake the money out the damn bus, you on the couch\\nPut the pistol in your daughter mouth, you on the couch\\nWe gon' go around the corner with that Glock .50\\nPoppin' off about a hundred at these pop niggas\\nG-Wagon and I'm G baggin'\\nBitch-ass nigga talkin' 'bout he \\\"heat clappin'\\\"\\\"\\nAnd I done heard about yo' pussy ass\\nNext time I catch you, boy, you rolled up in grass\\nCount the cash, count the cash when I'm livin' fast\\nSo quick to do the homicide with the mask\\nTake the mask off, broad-day a nigga\\nWhat the fuck you wanna do about that cold killer?\\nChain vicious, what's the issue 'bout my damn dawgs?\\nMy boy, F.N.F., man, that's poppin' off\\nLow-key, start to call\\nTaboo, motherfucker, tell these niggas we goin' hard\\nReal nigga do real things, but all many\\nBitch-ass niggas gon' hate, that's all in 'em\\nEnvyin' us niggas, they jealous, they all hate\\nYou're desperate to see a nigga upstate\\nThe real in my eyes couldn't let that shit ride\\nD-I-E as a nigga swallow his pride\\nNever take my pride or my motherfuckin' stripes\\nKnee deep in the bullet, am I, huh?\\nThe game be my wife, the lane be my ice\\nThe .45 steel, but a nigga brain twice\\nThat .9 millimeter revolver nigga\\nGot that, got that bitch poppin' off, 'fore I solve you niggas\\nShoutin'-outs to them boys who did that time\\nTorrence Hatch, you my nigga, I did that line\\nWhen the first time I seen that boy go to the earth\\nThe first time I seen that boy go to the birth\\n.38 Special, a killer, real right\\nAnd every dime who hatin' the block all night\\nF.N.F., nigga, fuck niggas finances\\nWhile the goddamn gold frame dances\\nGriselda\\nby Fashion Rebels\\n\"\n"}]