[{"id":30731357,"name":"Triumph - Wu-Tang Clan feat. CappaDonna","trackName":"Triumph - Wu-Tang Clan feat. CappaDonna","artistName":"Wu-Tang Clan","albumName":"Wu-Tang Forever","duration":338.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"What y'all thought y'all wasn't gonna see me?\nI'm the Osiris of this shit\nWu-Tang is here forever, motherfuckers\nThis '97\nA'ight, my niggas and my niggarettes\nLet's do it like this\nI'ma rub your ass in the moonshine\nLet's take it back to '79\n\nI bomb atomically\nSocrates' philosophies and hypotheses\nCan't define how I be dropping these mockeries\nLyrically perform armed robbery\nFlee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\nBattle-scarred Shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n\nTremendous, ultraviolet shine blind forensics\nI inspect you, through the future see millennium\nKiller Bees sold fifty gold, sixty platinum\nShackling the masses with drastic rap tactics\nGraphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\nBlack Wu jackets Queen B's ease the guns in\nRumble with patrolmen, tear gas laced the function\nHeads by the score take flight incite a war\nChicks hit the floor, die hard fans demand more\nBehold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\nProceeds to blow, swinging swords like Shinobi\nStomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\nWu got it locked, performing live on your hottest block\n\nAs the world turns, I spread like germs\nBless the globe with the pestilence\nThe hard-headed never learn\nIt's my testament to those burned\nPlay my position in the game of life standing firm\nOn foreign land jump the gun out the frying pan into the fire\nTransform into the Ghost Rider\nA six-pack and a streetcar named desire\nWho got my back in the line of fire holding back what\nMy peoples if you with me where the fuck you at\nNiggas is strapped and they trying to twist my beer cap\nIs court adjourned for the bad seed from bad sperm\nHerb got my wig fried like a bad perm, what the blood\nClot, we smoke pot and blow spots\nYou want to think twice, I think not\nThe Iron Lung ain't got to tell you where it's coming from\nGuns of Navarone, tearing up your battle zone\nRip through your slums\n\nI twist darts from the heart, tried and true\nLoop my voice on the LP, martini on the slang rocks\nCertified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\nTell your story walking\nTake cover, kid, what?\nRun for your brother kid\nRun for your team and your six camp rhyme groupies\nSo I can squeeze with the advantage and get wasted\nMy deadly notes reigns supreme\nYour fort is basic compared to mine\nDomino effect, arts and crafts\nParagraphs contain cyanide\nTake a free ride on my thought I got the fashion\nCatalogs for all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n\nThe saga continues\nWu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n\nOlympic torch flaming, we burn so sweet\nThe thrill of victory, the agony defeat\nWe crush slow, flaming deluxe slow\nFor judgment day cometh, conquer it's war\nAllow us to escape, hell glow spinning bomb\nPocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\nTunes split the shitty Mortal Kombat sound\nThe fateful step make, the blood stain the ground\nA jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\nA death kiss, catwalk, squeeze another anthem\nHold it for ransom, tranquilized with anesthesia\nMy orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\nMy music Sicily, rich California smell\nThe axe kill adventure, paint a picture well\nI sing a song from Sing-Sing, sipping on ginseng\nRighteous wax chaperone, rotating ring kings\n\nMarch of the wooden soldiers\nC-Cypher-Punks couldn't hold us\nA thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\nPerpendicular to the square we stamp gold like Fleer\nEscape from your dragon's lair in particular\nMy beats travel like a vortex through your spine\nTo the top of your cerebral cortex\nMake you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\nEnter through your right ventricle clog up your bloodstream\nNow terminal like Grand Central Station\nProgram fat baselines on Novation\nGetting drunk like a fuck, I'm ducking five-year probation\n\nWar of the masses, the outcome disastrous\nMany of the victim family save they ashes\nA million names on walls engraved in plaques\nThose who went back received penalties for their acts\nAnother heart is torn as close ones mourn\nThose who stray, niggas get slayed on the song\n\nThe track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\nAnd leaks sounds that's heard\n93 million miles away from came one\nTo represent the Nation, this is a gathering\nOf the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\nAs we engage in battle, the crowd now screams in rage\nThe high chief Jamel Arief takes the stage\nLight is provided through sparks of energy\nFrom the mind that travels in rhyme form\nGiving sight to the blind\nThe dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\nDeath only one can save self from\nThis relentless attack of the track spares none\n\nYo-yo-yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggas laid back\nLamping like them gray and black Puma's on my man's rack\nCodeine was forced in your drink\nYou had a Navy green salamander fiend, bitches overheard you scream\nYou two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\nBlowing like Shalamar in 81\nSound convincing, thousand dollar cord by convention\nHands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\nHold the fuck up, I'll unfasten your wig, bad luck\nI humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\nIt's me, black, Noble Drew Ali\nCame in threes we like the Genovese, is that so\nCaesar needs the greens, it's Earth\nNinety-three million miles from the first\nRough turbulence, the wave burst, split the megahertz\n\nAyy-yo that's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\nConnect thoughts to make my man child walk\nSwift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\nNew York Yank visor world tranquilizer\nJust a dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\nWhile my pen blow lines ferocious\nMediterranean, see y'all, the number one draft pick\nTear down the beat God, then delegate the God to see God\nThe swift chancellor, flex the white gold tarantula\nTrack truck diesel, play the weed God substantiala\nMax mostly, undivided then slide in sickening\nGuaranteed made 'em jump like Rod Strickland","syncedLyrics":"[00:03.08] What y'all thought y'all wasn't gonna see me?\n[00:06.64] I'm the Osiris of this shit\n[00:08.68] Wu-Tang is here forever, motherfuckers\n[00:10.12] This '97\n[00:12.65] A'ight, my niggas and my niggarettes\n[00:14.96] Let's do it like this\n[00:17.61] I'ma rub your ass in the moonshine\n[00:18.55] Let's take it back to '79\n[00:21.05] I bomb atomically\n[00:22.23] Socrates' philosophies and hypotheses\n[00:24.88] Can't define how I be dropping these mockeries\n[00:27.14] Lyrically perform armed robbery\n[00:29.19] Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n[00:29.72] Battle-scarred Shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n[00:34.24] Tremendous, ultraviolet shine blind forensics\n[00:37.08] I inspect you, through the future see millennium\n[00:39.65] Killer Bees sold fifty gold, sixty platinum\n[00:42.23] Shackling the masses with drastic rap tactics\n[00:44.93] Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n[00:47.58] Black Wu jackets Queen B's ease the guns in\n[00:50.25] Rumble with patrolmen, tear gas laced the function\n[00:52.85] Heads by the score take flight incite a war\n[00:55.17] Chicks hit the floor, die hard fans demand more\n[00:57.92] Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n[01:00.71] Proceeds to blow, swinging swords like Shinobi\n[01:03.31] Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n[01:05.84] Wu got it locked, performing live on your hottest block\n[01:08.36] As the world turns, I spread like germs\n[01:11.73] Bless the globe with the pestilence\n[01:13.22] The hard-headed never learn\n[01:14.63] It's my testament to those burned\n[01:15.41] Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n[01:18.07] On foreign land jump the gun out the frying pan into the fire\n[01:21.52] Transform into the Ghost Rider\n[01:23.43] A six-pack and a streetcar named desire\n[01:26.03] Who got my back in the line of fire holding back what\n[01:28.98] My peoples if you with me where the fuck you at\n[01:31.25] Niggas is strapped and they trying to twist my beer cap\n[01:33.99] Is court adjourned for the bad seed from bad sperm\n[01:36.74] Herb got my wig fried like a bad perm, what the blood\n[01:40.39] Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n[01:42.57] You want to think twice, I think not\n[01:44.58] The Iron Lung ain't got to tell you where it's coming from\n[01:47.18] Guns of Navarone, tearing up your battle zone\n[01:49.60] Rip through your slums\n[01:50.63] I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n[01:53.17] Loop my voice on the LP, martini on the slang rocks\n[01:56.56] Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n[01:59.86] Tell your story walking\n[02:01.21] Take cover, kid, what?\n[02:02.84] Run for your brother kid\n[02:04.12] Run for your team and your six camp rhyme groupies\n[02:06.97] So I can squeeze with the advantage and get wasted\n[02:10.51] My deadly notes reigns supreme\n[02:13.45] Your fort is basic compared to mine\n[02:14.68] Domino effect, arts and crafts\n[02:16.63] Paragraphs contain cyanide\n[02:18.69] Take a free ride on my thought I got the fashion\n[02:21.25] Catalogs for all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n[02:24.36] The saga continues\n[02:25.92] Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n[02:27.68] Olympic torch flaming, we burn so sweet\n[02:30.27] The thrill of victory, the agony defeat\n[02:32.89] We crush slow, flaming deluxe slow\n[02:35.21] For judgment day cometh, conquer it's war\n[02:38.20] Allow us to escape, hell glow spinning bomb\n[02:40.93] Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n[02:43.59] Tunes split the shitty Mortal Kombat sound\n[02:46.06] The fateful step make, the blood stain the ground\n[02:48.72] A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n[02:51.33] A death kiss, catwalk, squeeze another anthem\n[02:53.95] Hold it for ransom, tranquilized with anesthesia\n[02:56.60] My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n[02:59.21] My music Sicily, rich California smell\n[03:01.94] The axe kill adventure, paint a picture well\n[03:04.50] I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sipping on ginseng\n[03:07.34] Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring kings\n[03:10.62] March of the wooden soldiers\n[03:12.47] C-Cypher-Punks couldn't hold us\n[03:13.61] A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n[03:14.83] Perpendicular to the square we stamp gold like Fleer\n[03:17.72] Escape from your dragon's lair in particular\n[03:20.23] My beats travel like a vortex through your spine\n[03:22.81] To the top of your cerebral cortex\n[03:24.74] Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n[03:27.08] Enter through your right ventricle clog up your bloodstream\n[03:30.40] Now terminal like Grand Central Station\n[03:31.68] Program fat baselines on Novation\n[03:33.48] Getting drunk like a fuck, I'm ducking five-year probation\n[03:36.35] War of the masses, the outcome disastrous\n[03:39.04] Many of the victim family save they ashes\n[03:41.59] A million names on walls engraved in plaques\n[03:43.94] Those who went back received penalties for their acts\n[03:46.71] Another heart is torn as close ones mourn\n[03:49.39] Those who stray, niggas get slayed on the song\n[03:51.95] The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n[03:55.32] And leaks sounds that's heard\n[03:58.32] 93 million miles away from came one\n[03:59.94] To represent the Nation, this is a gathering\n[04:02.78] Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n[04:06.74] As we engage in battle, the crowd now screams in rage\n[04:10.48] The high chief Jamel Arief takes the stage\n[04:13.24] Light is provided through sparks of energy\n[04:15.54] From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n[04:18.20] Giving sight to the blind\n[04:19.79] The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n[04:22.45] Death only one can save self from\n[04:24.74] This relentless attack of the track spares none\n[04:28.01] Yo-yo-yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggas laid back\n[04:31.63] Lamping like them gray and black Puma's on my man's rack\n[04:35.66] Codeine was forced in your drink\n[04:37.35] You had a Navy green salamander fiend, bitches overheard you scream\n[04:39.45] You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n[04:42.50] Blowing like Shalamar in 81\n[04:44.36] Sound convincing, thousand dollar cord by convention\n[04:47.31] Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n[04:49.89] Hold the fuck up, I'll unfasten your wig, bad luck\n[04:52.46] I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n[04:55.18] It's me, black, Noble Drew Ali\n[04:58.67] Came in threes we like the Genovese, is that so\n[05:00.72] Caesar needs the greens, it's Earth\n[05:02.32] Ninety-three million miles from the first\n[05:02.97] Rough turbulence, the wave burst, split the megahertz\n[05:06.46] Ayy-yo that's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n[05:08.74] Connect thoughts to make my man child walk\n[05:12.26] Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n[05:14.01] New York Yank visor world tranquilizer\n[05:17.27] Just a dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n[05:19.08] While my pen blow lines ferocious\n[05:22.06] Mediterranean, see y'all, the number one draft pick\n[05:23.95] Tear down the beat God, then delegate the God to see God\n[05:26.53] The swift chancellor, flex the white gold tarantula\n[05:29.44] Track truck diesel, play the weed God substantiala\n[05:32.00] Max mostly, undivided then slide in sickening\n[05:35.38] Guaranteed made 'em jump like Rod Strickland\n[05:37.54] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Triumph - Wu-Tang Clan feat. CappaDonna\n  artist: Wu-Tang Clan\n  album: Wu-Tang Forever\n  duration_ms: 338000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: What y'all thought y'all wasn't gonna see me?\n  start_ms: 3080\n  end_ms: 6640\n- text: I'm the Osiris of this shit\n  start_ms: 6640\n  end_ms: 8680\n- text: Wu-Tang is here forever, motherfuckers\n  start_ms: 8680\n  end_ms: 10120\n- text: This '97\n  start_ms: 10120\n  end_ms: 12650\n- text: A'ight, my niggas and my niggarettes\n  start_ms: 12650\n  end_ms: 14960\n- text: Let's do it like this\n  start_ms: 14960\n  end_ms: 17610\n- text: I'ma rub your ass in the moonshine\n  start_ms: 17610\n  end_ms: 18550\n- text: Let's take it back to '79\n  start_ms: 18550\n  end_ms: 21050\n- text: I bomb atomically\n  start_ms: 21050\n  end_ms: 22230\n- text: Socrates' philosophies and hypotheses\n  start_ms: 22230\n  end_ms: 24880\n- text: Can't define how I be dropping these mockeries\n  start_ms: 24880\n  end_ms: 27140\n- text: Lyrically perform armed robbery\n  start_ms: 27140\n  end_ms: 29190\n- text: Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n  start_ms: 29190\n  end_ms: 29720\n- text: Battle-scarred Shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n  start_ms: 29720\n  end_ms: 34240\n- text: Tremendous, ultraviolet shine blind forensics\n  start_ms: 34240\n  end_ms: 37080\n- text: I inspect you, through the future see millennium\n  start_ms: 37080\n  end_ms: 39650\n- text: Killer Bees sold fifty gold, sixty platinum\n  start_ms: 39650\n  end_ms: 42230\n- text: Shackling the masses with drastic rap tactics\n  start_ms: 42230\n  end_ms: 44930\n- text: Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n  start_ms: 44930\n  end_ms: 47580\n- text: Black Wu jackets Queen B's ease the guns in\n  start_ms: 47580\n  end_ms: 50250\n- text: Rumble with patrolmen, tear gas laced the function\n  start_ms: 50250\n  end_ms: 52850\n- text: Heads by the score take flight incite a war\n  start_ms: 52850\n  end_ms: 55170\n- text: Chicks hit the floor, die hard fans demand more\n  start_ms: 55170\n  end_ms: 57920\n- text: Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n  start_ms: 57920\n  end_ms: 60710\n- text: Proceeds to blow, swinging swords like Shinobi\n  start_ms: 60710\n  end_ms: 63310\n- text: Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n  start_ms: 63310\n  end_ms: 65840\n- text: Wu got it locked, performing live on your hottest block\n  start_ms: 65840\n  end_ms: 68360\n- text: As the world turns, I spread like germs\n  start_ms: 68360\n  end_ms: 71730\n- text: Bless the globe with the pestilence\n  start_ms: 71730\n  end_ms: 73220\n- text: The hard-headed never learn\n  start_ms: 73220\n  end_ms: 74630\n- text: It's my testament to those burned\n  start_ms: 74630\n  end_ms: 75410\n- text: Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n  start_ms: 75410\n  end_ms: 78070\n- text: On foreign land jump the gun out the frying pan into the fire\n  start_ms: 78070\n  end_ms: 81520\n- text: Transform into the Ghost Rider\n  start_ms: 81520\n  end_ms: 83430\n- text: A six-pack and a streetcar named desire\n  start_ms: 83430\n  end_ms: 86030\n- text: Who got my back in the line of fire holding back what\n  start_ms: 86030\n  end_ms: 88980\n- text: My peoples if you with me where the fuck you at\n  start_ms: 88980\n  end_ms: 91250\n- text: Niggas is strapped and they trying to twist my beer cap\n  start_ms: 91250\n  end_ms: 93990\n- text: Is court adjourned for the bad seed from bad sperm\n  start_ms: 93990\n  end_ms: 96740\n- text: Herb got my wig fried like a bad perm, what the blood\n  start_ms: 96740\n  end_ms: 100390\n- text: Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n  start_ms: 100390\n  end_ms: 102570\n- text: You want to think twice, I think not\n  start_ms: 102570\n  end_ms: 104580\n- text: The Iron Lung ain't got to tell you where it's coming from\n  start_ms: 104580\n  end_ms: 107180\n- text: Guns of Navarone, tearing up your battle zone\n  start_ms: 107180\n  end_ms: 109600\n- text: Rip through your slums\n  start_ms: 109600\n  end_ms: 110630\n- text: I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n  start_ms: 110630\n  end_ms: 113170\n- text: Loop my voice on the LP, martini on the slang rocks\n  start_ms: 113170\n  end_ms: 116560\n- text: Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n  start_ms: 116560\n  end_ms: 119860\n- text: Tell your story walking\n  start_ms: 119860\n  end_ms: 121210\n- text: Take cover, kid, what?\n  start_ms: 121210\n  end_ms: 122840\n- text: Run for your brother kid\n  start_ms: 122840\n  end_ms: 124120\n- text: Run for your team and your six camp rhyme groupies\n  start_ms: 124120\n  end_ms: 126970\n- text: So I can squeeze with the advantage and get wasted\n  start_ms: 126970\n  end_ms: 130510\n- text: My deadly notes reigns supreme\n  start_ms: 130510\n  end_ms: 133450\n- text: Your fort is basic compared to mine\n  start_ms: 133450\n  end_ms: 134680\n- text: Domino effect, arts and crafts\n  start_ms: 134680\n  end_ms: 136630\n- text: Paragraphs contain cyanide\n  start_ms: 136630\n  end_ms: 138690\n- text: Take a free ride on my thought I got the fashion\n  start_ms: 138690\n  end_ms: 141250\n- text: Catalogs for all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n  start_ms: 141250\n  end_ms: 144360\n- text: The saga continues\n  start_ms: 144360\n  end_ms: 145920\n- text: Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n  start_ms: 145920\n  end_ms: 147680\n- text: Olympic torch flaming, we burn so sweet\n  start_ms: 147680\n  end_ms: 150270\n- text: The thrill of victory, the agony defeat\n  start_ms: 150270\n  end_ms: 152890\n- text: We crush slow, flaming deluxe slow\n  start_ms: 152890\n  end_ms: 155210\n- text: For judgment day cometh, conquer it's war\n  start_ms: 155210\n  end_ms: 158200\n- text: Allow us to escape, hell glow spinning bomb\n  start_ms: 158200\n  end_ms: 160930\n- text: Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n  start_ms: 160930\n  end_ms: 163590\n- text: Tunes split the shitty Mortal Kombat sound\n  start_ms: 163590\n  end_ms: 166060\n- text: The fateful step make, the blood stain the ground\n  start_ms: 166060\n  end_ms: 168720\n- text: A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n  start_ms: 168720\n  end_ms: 171330\n- text: A death kiss, catwalk, squeeze another anthem\n  start_ms: 171330\n  end_ms: 173950\n- text: Hold it for ransom, tranquilized with anesthesia\n  start_ms: 173950\n  end_ms: 176600\n- text: My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n  start_ms: 176600\n  end_ms: 179210\n- text: My music Sicily, rich California smell\n  start_ms: 179210\n  end_ms: 181940\n- text: The axe kill adventure, paint a picture well\n  start_ms: 181940\n  end_ms: 184500\n- text: I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sipping on ginseng\n  start_ms: 184500\n  end_ms: 187340\n- text: Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring kings\n  start_ms: 187340\n  end_ms: 190620\n- text: March of the wooden soldiers\n  start_ms: 190620\n  end_ms: 192470\n- text: C-Cypher-Punks couldn't hold us\n  start_ms: 192470\n  end_ms: 193610\n- text: A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n  start_ms: 193610\n  end_ms: 194830\n- text: Perpendicular to the square we stamp gold like Fleer\n  start_ms: 194830\n  end_ms: 197720\n- text: Escape from your dragon's lair in particular\n  start_ms: 197720\n  end_ms: 200230\n- text: My beats travel like a vortex through your spine\n  start_ms: 200230\n  end_ms: 202810\n- text: To the top of your cerebral cortex\n  start_ms: 202810\n  end_ms: 204740\n- text: Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n  start_ms: 204740\n  end_ms: 207080\n- text: Enter through your right ventricle clog up your bloodstream\n  start_ms: 207080\n  end_ms: 210400\n- text: Now terminal like Grand Central Station\n  start_ms: 210400\n  end_ms: 211680\n- text: Program fat baselines on Novation\n  start_ms: 211680\n  end_ms: 213480\n- text: Getting drunk like a fuck, I'm ducking five-year probation\n  start_ms: 213480\n  end_ms: 216350\n- text: War of the masses, the outcome disastrous\n  start_ms: 216350\n  end_ms: 219040\n- text: Many of the victim family save they ashes\n  start_ms: 219040\n  end_ms: 221590\n- text: A million names on walls engraved in plaques\n  start_ms: 221590\n  end_ms: 223940\n- text: Those who went back received penalties for their acts\n  start_ms: 223940\n  end_ms: 226710\n- text: Another heart is torn as close ones mourn\n  start_ms: 226710\n  end_ms: 229390\n- text: Those who stray, niggas get slayed on the song\n  start_ms: 229390\n  end_ms: 231950\n- text: The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n  start_ms: 231950\n  end_ms: 235320\n- text: And leaks sounds that's heard\n  start_ms: 235320\n  end_ms: 238320\n- text: 93 million miles away from came one\n  start_ms: 238320\n  end_ms: 239940\n- text: To represent the Nation, this is a gathering\n  start_ms: 239940\n  end_ms: 242780\n- text: Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n  start_ms: 242780\n  end_ms: 246740\n- text: As we engage in battle, the crowd now screams in rage\n  start_ms: 246740\n  end_ms: 250480\n- text: The high chief Jamel Arief takes the stage\n  start_ms: 250480\n  end_ms: 253240\n- text: Light is provided through sparks of energy\n  start_ms: 253240\n  end_ms: 255540\n- text: From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n  start_ms: 255540\n  end_ms: 258200\n- text: Giving sight to the blind\n  start_ms: 258200\n  end_ms: 259790\n- text: The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n  start_ms: 259790\n  end_ms: 262450\n- text: Death only one can save self from\n  start_ms: 262450\n  end_ms: 264740\n- text: This relentless attack of the track spares none\n  start_ms: 264740\n  end_ms: 268010\n- text: Yo-yo-yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggas laid back\n  start_ms: 268010\n  end_ms: 271630\n- text: Lamping like them gray and black Puma's on my man's rack\n  start_ms: 271630\n  end_ms: 275660\n- text: Codeine was forced in your drink\n  start_ms: 275660\n  end_ms: 277350\n- text: You had a Navy green salamander fiend, bitches overheard you scream\n  start_ms: 277350\n  end_ms: 279450\n- text: You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n  start_ms: 279450\n  end_ms: 282500\n- text: Blowing like Shalamar in 81\n  start_ms: 282500\n  end_ms: 284360\n- text: Sound convincing, thousand dollar cord by convention\n  start_ms: 284360\n  end_ms: 287310\n- text: Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n  start_ms: 287310\n  end_ms: 289890\n- text: Hold the fuck up, I'll unfasten your wig, bad luck\n  start_ms: 289890\n  end_ms: 292460\n- text: I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n  start_ms: 292460\n  end_ms: 295180\n- text: It's me, black, Noble Drew Ali\n  start_ms: 295180\n  end_ms: 298670\n- text: Came in threes we like the Genovese, is that so\n  start_ms: 298670\n  end_ms: 300720\n- text: Caesar needs the greens, it's Earth\n  start_ms: 300720\n  end_ms: 302320\n- text: Ninety-three million miles from the first\n  start_ms: 302320\n  end_ms: 302970\n- text: Rough turbulence, the wave burst, split the megahertz\n  start_ms: 302970\n  end_ms: 306460\n- text: Ayy-yo that's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n  start_ms: 306460\n  end_ms: 308740\n- text: Connect thoughts to make my man child walk\n  start_ms: 308740\n  end_ms: 312260\n- text: Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n  start_ms: 312260\n  end_ms: 314010\n- text: New York Yank visor world tranquilizer\n  start_ms: 314010\n  end_ms: 317270\n- text: Just a dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n  start_ms: 317270\n  end_ms: 319080\n- text: While my pen blow lines ferocious\n  start_ms: 319080\n  end_ms: 322060\n- text: Mediterranean, see y'all, the number one draft pick\n  start_ms: 322060\n  end_ms: 323950\n- text: Tear down the beat God, then delegate the God to see God\n  start_ms: 323950\n  end_ms: 326530\n- text: The swift chancellor, flex the white gold tarantula\n  start_ms: 326530\n  end_ms: 329440\n- text: Track truck diesel, play the weed God substantiala\n  start_ms: 329440\n  end_ms: 332000\n- text: Max mostly, undivided then slide in sickening\n  start_ms: 332000\n  end_ms: 335380\n- text: Guaranteed made 'em jump like Rod Strickland\n  start_ms: 335380\n  end_ms: 337540\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 337540\nplain: |-\n  What y'all thought y'all wasn't gonna see me?\n  I'm the Osiris of this shit\n  Wu-Tang is here forever, motherfuckers\n  This '97\n  A'ight, my niggas and my niggarettes\n  Let's do it like this\n  I'ma rub your ass in the moonshine\n  Let's take it back to '79\n\n  I bomb atomically\n  Socrates' philosophies and hypotheses\n  Can't define how I be dropping these mockeries\n  Lyrically perform armed robbery\n  Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n  Battle-scarred Shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n\n  Tremendous, ultraviolet shine blind forensics\n  I inspect you, through the future see millennium\n  Killer Bees sold fifty gold, sixty platinum\n  Shackling the masses with drastic rap tactics\n  Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n  Black Wu jackets Queen B's ease the guns in\n  Rumble with patrolmen, tear gas laced the function\n  Heads by the score take flight incite a war\n  Chicks hit the floor, die hard fans demand more\n  Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n  Proceeds to blow, swinging swords like Shinobi\n  Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n  Wu got it locked, performing live on your hottest block\n\n  As the world turns, I spread like germs\n  Bless the globe with the pestilence\n  The hard-headed never learn\n  It's my testament to those burned\n  Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n  On foreign land jump the gun out the frying pan into the fire\n  Transform into the Ghost Rider\n  A six-pack and a streetcar named desire\n  Who got my back in the line of fire holding back what\n  My peoples if you with me where the fuck you at\n  Niggas is strapped and they trying to twist my beer cap\n  Is court adjourned for the bad seed from bad sperm\n  Herb got my wig fried like a bad perm, what the blood\n  Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n  You want to think twice, I think not\n  The Iron Lung ain't got to tell you where it's coming from\n  Guns of Navarone, tearing up your battle zone\n  Rip through your slums\n\n  I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n  Loop my voice on the LP, martini on the slang rocks\n  Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n  Tell your story walking\n  Take cover, kid, what?\n  Run for your brother kid\n  Run for your team and your six camp rhyme groupies\n  So I can squeeze with the advantage and get wasted\n  My deadly notes reigns supreme\n  Your fort is basic compared to mine\n  Domino effect, arts and crafts\n  Paragraphs contain cyanide\n  Take a free ride on my thought I got the fashion\n  Catalogs for all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n\n  The saga continues\n  Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n\n  Olympic torch flaming, we burn so sweet\n  The thrill of victory, the agony defeat\n  We crush slow, flaming deluxe slow\n  For judgment day cometh, conquer it's war\n  Allow us to escape, hell glow spinning bomb\n  Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n  Tunes split the shitty Mortal Kombat sound\n  The fateful step make, the blood stain the ground\n  A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n  A death kiss, catwalk, squeeze another anthem\n  Hold it for ransom, tranquilized with anesthesia\n  My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n  My music Sicily, rich California smell\n  The axe kill adventure, paint a picture well\n  I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sipping on ginseng\n  Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring kings\n\n  March of the wooden soldiers\n  C-Cypher-Punks couldn't hold us\n  A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n  Perpendicular to the square we stamp gold like Fleer\n  Escape from your dragon's lair in particular\n  My beats travel like a vortex through your spine\n  To the top of your cerebral cortex\n  Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n  Enter through your right ventricle clog up your bloodstream\n  Now terminal like Grand Central Station\n  Program fat baselines on Novation\n  Getting drunk like a fuck, I'm ducking five-year probation\n\n  War of the masses, the outcome disastrous\n  Many of the victim family save they ashes\n  A million names on walls engraved in plaques\n  Those who went back received penalties for their acts\n  Another heart is torn as close ones mourn\n  Those who stray, niggas get slayed on the song\n\n  The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n  And leaks sounds that's heard\n  93 million miles away from came one\n  To represent the Nation, this is a gathering\n  Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n  As we engage in battle, the crowd now screams in rage\n  The high chief Jamel Arief takes the stage\n  Light is provided through sparks of energy\n  From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n  Giving sight to the blind\n  The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n  Death only one can save self from\n  This relentless attack of the track spares none\n\n  Yo-yo-yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggas laid back\n  Lamping like them gray and black Puma's on my man's rack\n  Codeine was forced in your drink\n  You had a Navy green salamander fiend, bitches overheard you scream\n  You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n  Blowing like Shalamar in 81\n  Sound convincing, thousand dollar cord by convention\n  Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n  Hold the fuck up, I'll unfasten your wig, bad luck\n  I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n  It's me, black, Noble Drew Ali\n  Came in threes we like the Genovese, is that so\n  Caesar needs the greens, it's Earth\n  Ninety-three million miles from the first\n  Rough turbulence, the wave burst, split the megahertz\n\n  Ayy-yo that's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n  Connect thoughts to make my man child walk\n  Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n  New York Yank visor world tranquilizer\n  Just a dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n  While my pen blow lines ferocious\n  Mediterranean, see y'all, the number one draft pick\n  Tear down the beat God, then delegate the God to see God\n  The swift chancellor, flex the white gold tarantula\n  Track truck diesel, play the weed God substantiala\n  Max mostly, undivided then slide in sickening\n  Guaranteed made 'em jump like Rod Strickland\n"},{"id":26959040,"name":"Triumph (Instrumental)","trackName":"Triumph (Instrumental)","artistName":"Wu-Tang Clan","albumName":"Wu-Tang Clan Triumph (Single)","duration":340.338375,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"What y'all thought y'all wasn't gon' see me?\nI'm the Osiris of this shit\nWu-Tang is here forever, motherfuckers\nThis like, this '97\nAight my niggas and my niggarettes\nLet's do it like this\nI'ma rub your ass in the moonshine\nLet's take it back to '79\nI bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies and hypotheses\nCan't define how I be droppin' these mockeries\nLyrically perform armed robbery\nFlee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\nBattle-scarred Shogun, explosion when my pen hits tremendous\nUltra-violet shine blind forensics\nI inspect view through the future see millennium\nKilla Beez sold fifty gold, sixty platinum\nShackling the masses with drastic rap tactics\nGraphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\nBlack Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\nRumble with patrolmen, tear gas laced the function\nHeads by the score take flight, incite a war\nChicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\nBehold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\nProceeds to blow, swingin' swords like Shinobi\nStomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\nWu got it locked, performin' live on your hottest block\nAs the world turns, I spread like germs\nBless the globe with the pestilence, the hard-headed never learn\nIt's my testament to those burned\nPlay my position in the game of life, standing firm\nOn foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan\nInto the fire, transform into the Ghost Rider\nA six-pack and A Streetcar Named Desire\nWho got my back? In the line of fire, holding back\nWhat? My peoples if you with me, where the fuck you at?\nNiggas is strapped and they tryna twist my beer cap\nIt's court adjourned for the bad seed from bad sperm\nHerb got my wig fried like a bad perm\nWhat the blood clot? We smoke pot, and blow spots\nYou wanna think twice? I think not\nThe Iron Lung ain't got to tell you where it's coming from\nGuns of Navarone tearing up your battle zone\nRip through your slums\nI twist darts from the heart, tried and true\nLoot my voice on the LP\nMartini on the slang rocks, certified chatterbox\nVocabulary 'Donna talking, tell your story walking\nTake cover, kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\nRun for your team, and your \"six can't rhyme\" groupies\nSo I can squeeze with the advantage and get wasted\nMy deadly notes reigns supreme\nYour thought is basic compared to mine\nDomino effect, arts and crafts, paragraphs contain cyanide\nTake a free ride on my thought\nI got the fashion catalogs for all y'all to all praise due to God\nThe saga continues\nWu-Tang, Wu-Tang\nOlympic torch flaming, we burn so sweet\nThe thrill of victory, the agony of defeat\nWe crush slow, flaming deluxe slow for\nJudgment Day cometh, conquer, it's war\nAllow us to escape Hell, globe spinning bomb\nPocket full of shells out the sky Golden Arms\nTunes spit the shitty Mortal Kombat sound\nThe fake false step make the blood stain the ground\nA jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\nA death kiss catwalk, squeeze another anthem\nHold it for ransom, tranquilized with anesthesia\nMy orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\nMy music Sicily, rich California smell\nAn axe killer adventure, paint a picture well\nI sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\nRighteous wax chaperon, rotating ring king\nMarch of the wooden soldiers, C-Cypher Punks couldn't hold us\nA thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\nPerpendicular to the square, we stand bold like Flare\nEscape from your dragon's lair\nIn particular, my beats travel like a vortex\nThrough your spine to the top of your cerebral cortex\nMake you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\nEnter through your right ventricle clog up your bloodstream\nHeart terminal like Grand Central Station\nProgram fat baselines on Novation\nGetting drunk like I'm fucking duckin' five-year probation\nWar of the masses, the outcome disastrous\nMany of the victim families save their ashes\nA million names on walls, engraved in plaques\nThose who went back received penalties for their acts\nAnother heart is torn as close ones mourn\nThose who stray, niggas get slayed on the song\nThe track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\nAnd leaks sounds that's heard\n93 million miles away from\nCame one to represent the Nation\nThis is a gathering of the masses\nThat come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\nAs we engage in battle, the crowd now screams in rage\nThe high chief Jamel Irief takes the stage\nLight is provided through sparks of energy\nFrom the mind that travels in rhyme form\nGiving sight to the blind\nThe dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\nDeath only one can save self from\nThis relentless attack of the track spares none\nYo, yo, yo, fuck that\nLook at all these crab niggas laid back\nLampin' like them gray and black Puma's on my man's rack\nCodeine was forced in your drink\nYou had a navy green salamander fiend\nBitches overheard you scream\nYou two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\nBlowing like Shalamar in '81\nSound convincing, thousand dollar cork-pop convention\nHands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\nHold the fuck up, I'll unfasten your wig, bad luck\nI humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\nIt's me, Black Noble Drew Ali, came in threes\nWe like the Genovese, sazon season these degrees\nIt's Earth, 93 million miles from the first\nRough turbulence, the wave burst, split the megahertz\nAyo, that's amazing\nGun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\nConnect thoughts to make my man child walk\nSwift notarizer, Blue-Tang, all up in the high-riser\nNew York Yank visor, word tranquilizer\nAdjust the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\nWhile, my pen blow lines ferocious\nMediterranean, see y'all, the number one draft pick\nTear down the beat, God, then delegate the God to see God\nThe swift chancellor, flex the white gold tarantula\nTrack truck diesel, play the weed God substantiala\nMax mostly, undivided then slide in sickening\nGuaranteed made 'em jump like Rod Strickland","syncedLyrics":"[00:02.10] What y'all thought y'all wasn't gon' see me?\n[00:04.53] I'm the Osiris of this shit\n[00:06.81] Wu-Tang is here forever, motherfuckers\n[00:10.53] This like, this '97\n[00:12.53] Aight my niggas and my niggarettes\n[00:15.14] Let's do it like this\n[00:16.75] I'ma rub your ass in the moonshine\n[00:18.89] Let's take it back to '79\n[00:21.27] I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies and hypotheses\n[00:25.02] Can't define how I be droppin' these mockeries\n[00:27.31] Lyrically perform armed robbery\n[00:29.08] Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n[00:31.86] Battle-scarred Shogun, explosion when my pen hits tremendous\n[00:35.07] Ultra-violet shine blind forensics\n[00:37.00] I inspect view through the future see millennium\n[00:39.62] Killa Beez sold fifty gold, sixty platinum\n[00:42.29] Shackling the masses with drastic rap tactics\n[00:44.94] Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n[00:47.57] Black Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\n[00:50.25] Rumble with patrolmen, tear gas laced the function\n[00:52.90] Heads by the score take flight, incite a war\n[00:55.31] Chicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\n[00:58.11] Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n[01:00.78] Proceeds to blow, swingin' swords like Shinobi\n[01:03.49] Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n[01:06.05] Wu got it locked, performin' live on your hottest block\n[01:08.73] As the world turns, I spread like germs\n[01:10.60] Bless the globe with the pestilence, the hard-headed never learn\n[01:13.80] It's my testament to those burned\n[01:15.78] Play my position in the game of life, standing firm\n[01:18.28] On foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan\n[01:20.99] Into the fire, transform into the Ghost Rider\n[01:23.68] A six-pack and A Streetcar Named Desire\n[01:26.24] Who got my back? In the line of fire, holding back\n[01:28.96] What? My peoples if you with me, where the fuck you at?\n[01:31.49] Niggas is strapped and they tryna twist my beer cap\n[01:34.12] It's court adjourned for the bad seed from bad sperm\n[01:36.91] Herb got my wig fried like a bad perm\n[01:39.36] What the blood clot? We smoke pot, and blow spots\n[01:42.93] You wanna think twice? I think not\n[01:44.61] The Iron Lung ain't got to tell you where it's coming from\n[01:47.22] Guns of Navarone tearing up your battle zone\n[01:49.89] Rip through your slums\n[01:50.90] I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n[01:53.37] Loot my voice on the LP\n[01:55.15] Martini on the slang rocks, certified chatterbox\n[01:58.24] Vocabulary 'Donna talking, tell your story walking\n[02:01.17] Take cover, kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\n[02:04.42] Run for your team, and your \"six can't rhyme\" groupies\n[02:06.98] So I can squeeze with the advantage and get wasted\n[02:10.48] My deadly notes reigns supreme\n[02:12.31] Your thought is basic compared to mine\n[02:14.47] Domino effect, arts and crafts, paragraphs contain cyanide\n[02:18.73] Take a free ride on my thought\n[02:20.41] I got the fashion catalogs for all y'all to all praise due to God\n[02:24.62] The saga continues\n[02:26.13] Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n[02:28.11] Olympic torch flaming, we burn so sweet\n[02:30.41] The thrill of victory, the agony of defeat\n[02:33.07] We crush slow, flaming deluxe slow for\n[02:35.59] Judgment Day cometh, conquer, it's war\n[02:38.42] Allow us to escape Hell, globe spinning bomb\n[02:40.95] Pocket full of shells out the sky Golden Arms\n[02:43.87] Tunes spit the shitty Mortal Kombat sound\n[02:46.20] The fake false step make the blood stain the ground\n[02:48.82] A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n[02:51.44] A death kiss catwalk, squeeze another anthem\n[02:54.17] Hold it for ransom, tranquilized with anesthesia\n[02:56.74] My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n[02:59.33] My music Sicily, rich California smell\n[03:02.02] An axe killer adventure, paint a picture well\n[03:04.59] I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n[03:07.23] Righteous wax chaperon, rotating ring king\n[03:09.80] March of the wooden soldiers, C-Cypher Punks couldn't hold us\n[03:12.59] A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n[03:15.19] Perpendicular to the square, we stand bold like Flare\n[03:17.97] Escape from your dragon's lair\n[03:19.62] In particular, my beats travel like a vortex\n[03:22.25] Through your spine to the top of your cerebral cortex\n[03:24.85] Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n[03:27.15] Enter through your right ventricle clog up your bloodstream\n[03:29.66] Heart terminal like Grand Central Station\n[03:31.80] Program fat baselines on Novation\n[03:33.89] Getting drunk like I'm fucking duckin' five-year probation\n[03:36.37] War of the masses, the outcome disastrous\n[03:39.09] Many of the victim families save their ashes\n[03:41.67] A million names on walls, engraved in plaques\n[03:44.33] Those who went back received penalties for their acts\n[03:46.80] Another heart is torn as close ones mourn\n[03:49.51] Those who stray, niggas get slayed on the song\n[03:52.06] The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n[03:55.60] And leaks sounds that's heard\n[03:57.41] 93 million miles away from\n[03:59.57] Came one to represent the Nation\n[04:01.46] This is a gathering of the masses\n[04:03.78] That come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n[04:06.67] As we engage in battle, the crowd now screams in rage\n[04:10.48] The high chief Jamel Irief takes the stage\n[04:13.53] Light is provided through sparks of energy\n[04:15.92] From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n[04:18.38] Giving sight to the blind\n[04:19.88] The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n[04:22.43] Death only one can save self from\n[04:25.02] This relentless attack of the track spares none\n[04:28.36] Yo, yo, yo, fuck that\n[04:29.97] Look at all these crab niggas laid back\n[04:31.78] Lampin' like them gray and black Puma's on my man's rack\n[04:34.53] Codeine was forced in your drink\n[04:36.11] You had a navy green salamander fiend\n[04:38.19] Bitches overheard you scream\n[04:39.65] You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n[04:42.77] Blowing like Shalamar in '81\n[04:44.59] Sound convincing, thousand dollar cork-pop convention\n[04:47.57] Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n[04:50.08] Hold the fuck up, I'll unfasten your wig, bad luck\n[04:52.71] I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n[04:55.31] It's me, Black Noble Drew Ali, came in threes\n[04:57.88] We like the Genovese, sazon season these degrees\n[05:00.69] It's Earth, 93 million miles from the first\n[05:03.20] Rough turbulence, the wave burst, split the megahertz\n[05:05.88] Ayo, that's amazing\n[05:07.12] Gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n[05:09.15] Connect thoughts to make my man child walk\n[05:11.19] Swift notarizer, Blue-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n[05:14.21] New York Yank visor, word tranquilizer\n[05:16.26] Adjust the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n[05:19.12] While, my pen blow lines ferocious\n[05:21.26] Mediterranean, see y'all, the number one draft pick\n[05:24.25] Tear down the beat, God, then delegate the God to see God\n[05:26.79] The swift chancellor, flex the white gold tarantula\n[05:29.47] Track truck diesel, play the weed God substantiala\n[05:32.39] Max mostly, undivided then slide in sickening\n[05:35.58] Guaranteed made 'em jump like Rod Strickland","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Triumph (Instrumental)\n  artist: Wu-Tang Clan\n  album: Wu-Tang Clan Triumph (Single)\n  duration_ms: 340338\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: What y'all thought y'all wasn't gon' see me?\n  start_ms: 2100\n  end_ms: 4530\n- text: I'm the Osiris of this shit\n  start_ms: 4530\n  end_ms: 6810\n- text: Wu-Tang is here forever, motherfuckers\n  start_ms: 6810\n  end_ms: 10530\n- text: This like, this '97\n  start_ms: 10530\n  end_ms: 12530\n- text: Aight my niggas and my niggarettes\n  start_ms: 12530\n  end_ms: 15140\n- text: Let's do it like this\n  start_ms: 15140\n  end_ms: 16750\n- text: I'ma rub your ass in the moonshine\n  start_ms: 16750\n  end_ms: 18890\n- text: Let's take it back to '79\n  start_ms: 18890\n  end_ms: 21270\n- text: I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies and hypotheses\n  start_ms: 21270\n  end_ms: 25020\n- text: Can't define how I be droppin' these mockeries\n  start_ms: 25020\n  end_ms: 27310\n- text: Lyrically perform armed robbery\n  start_ms: 27310\n  end_ms: 29080\n- text: Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n  start_ms: 29080\n  end_ms: 31860\n- text: Battle-scarred Shogun, explosion when my pen hits tremendous\n  start_ms: 31860\n  end_ms: 35070\n- text: Ultra-violet shine blind forensics\n  start_ms: 35070\n  end_ms: 37000\n- text: I inspect view through the future see millennium\n  start_ms: 37000\n  end_ms: 39620\n- text: Killa Beez sold fifty gold, sixty platinum\n  start_ms: 39620\n  end_ms: 42290\n- text: Shackling the masses with drastic rap tactics\n  start_ms: 42290\n  end_ms: 44940\n- text: Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n  start_ms: 44940\n  end_ms: 47570\n- text: Black Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\n  start_ms: 47570\n  end_ms: 50250\n- text: Rumble with patrolmen, tear gas laced the function\n  start_ms: 50250\n  end_ms: 52900\n- text: Heads by the score take flight, incite a war\n  start_ms: 52900\n  end_ms: 55310\n- text: Chicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\n  start_ms: 55310\n  end_ms: 58110\n- text: Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n  start_ms: 58110\n  end_ms: 60780\n- text: Proceeds to blow, swingin' swords like Shinobi\n  start_ms: 60780\n  end_ms: 63490\n- text: Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n  start_ms: 63490\n  end_ms: 66050\n- text: Wu got it locked, performin' live on your hottest block\n  start_ms: 66050\n  end_ms: 68730\n- text: As the world turns, I spread like germs\n  start_ms: 68730\n  end_ms: 70600\n- text: Bless the globe with the pestilence, the hard-headed never learn\n  start_ms: 70600\n  end_ms: 73800\n- text: It's my testament to those burned\n  start_ms: 73800\n  end_ms: 75780\n- text: Play my position in the game of life, standing firm\n  start_ms: 75780\n  end_ms: 78280\n- text: On foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan\n  start_ms: 78280\n  end_ms: 80990\n- text: Into the fire, transform into the Ghost Rider\n  start_ms: 80990\n  end_ms: 83680\n- text: A six-pack and A Streetcar Named Desire\n  start_ms: 83680\n  end_ms: 86240\n- text: Who got my back? In the line of fire, holding back\n  start_ms: 86240\n  end_ms: 88960\n- text: What? My peoples if you with me, where the fuck you at?\n  start_ms: 88960\n  end_ms: 91490\n- text: Niggas is strapped and they tryna twist my beer cap\n  start_ms: 91490\n  end_ms: 94120\n- text: It's court adjourned for the bad seed from bad sperm\n  start_ms: 94120\n  end_ms: 96910\n- text: Herb got my wig fried like a bad perm\n  start_ms: 96910\n  end_ms: 99360\n- text: What the blood clot? We smoke pot, and blow spots\n  start_ms: 99360\n  end_ms: 102930\n- text: You wanna think twice? I think not\n  start_ms: 102930\n  end_ms: 104610\n- text: The Iron Lung ain't got to tell you where it's coming from\n  start_ms: 104610\n  end_ms: 107220\n- text: Guns of Navarone tearing up your battle zone\n  start_ms: 107220\n  end_ms: 109890\n- text: Rip through your slums\n  start_ms: 109890\n  end_ms: 110900\n- text: I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n  start_ms: 110900\n  end_ms: 113370\n- text: Loot my voice on the LP\n  start_ms: 113370\n  end_ms: 115150\n- text: Martini on the slang rocks, certified chatterbox\n  start_ms: 115150\n  end_ms: 118240\n- text: Vocabulary 'Donna talking, tell your story walking\n  start_ms: 118240\n  end_ms: 121170\n- text: Take cover, kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\n  start_ms: 121170\n  end_ms: 124420\n- text: Run for your team, and your \"six can't rhyme\" groupies\n  start_ms: 124420\n  end_ms: 126980\n- text: So I can squeeze with the advantage and get wasted\n  start_ms: 126980\n  end_ms: 130480\n- text: My deadly notes reigns supreme\n  start_ms: 130480\n  end_ms: 132310\n- text: Your thought is basic compared to mine\n  start_ms: 132310\n  end_ms: 134470\n- text: Domino effect, arts and crafts, paragraphs contain cyanide\n  start_ms: 134470\n  end_ms: 138730\n- text: Take a free ride on my thought\n  start_ms: 138730\n  end_ms: 140410\n- text: I got the fashion catalogs for all y'all to all praise due to God\n  start_ms: 140410\n  end_ms: 144620\n- text: The saga continues\n  start_ms: 144620\n  end_ms: 146130\n- text: Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n  start_ms: 146130\n  end_ms: 148110\n- text: Olympic torch flaming, we burn so sweet\n  start_ms: 148110\n  end_ms: 150410\n- text: The thrill of victory, the agony of defeat\n  start_ms: 150410\n  end_ms: 153070\n- text: We crush slow, flaming deluxe slow for\n  start_ms: 153070\n  end_ms: 155590\n- text: Judgment Day cometh, conquer, it's war\n  start_ms: 155590\n  end_ms: 158420\n- text: Allow us to escape Hell, globe spinning bomb\n  start_ms: 158420\n  end_ms: 160950\n- text: Pocket full of shells out the sky Golden Arms\n  start_ms: 160950\n  end_ms: 163870\n- text: Tunes spit the shitty Mortal Kombat sound\n  start_ms: 163870\n  end_ms: 166200\n- text: The fake false step make the blood stain the ground\n  start_ms: 166200\n  end_ms: 168820\n- text: A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n  start_ms: 168820\n  end_ms: 171440\n- text: A death kiss catwalk, squeeze another anthem\n  start_ms: 171440\n  end_ms: 174170\n- text: Hold it for ransom, tranquilized with anesthesia\n  start_ms: 174170\n  end_ms: 176740\n- text: My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n  start_ms: 176740\n  end_ms: 179330\n- text: My music Sicily, rich California smell\n  start_ms: 179330\n  end_ms: 182020\n- text: An axe killer adventure, paint a picture well\n  start_ms: 182020\n  end_ms: 184590\n- text: I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n  start_ms: 184590\n  end_ms: 187230\n- text: Righteous wax chaperon, rotating ring king\n  start_ms: 187230\n  end_ms: 189800\n- text: March of the wooden soldiers, C-Cypher Punks couldn't hold us\n  start_ms: 189800\n  end_ms: 192590\n- text: A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n  start_ms: 192590\n  end_ms: 195190\n- text: Perpendicular to the square, we stand bold like Flare\n  start_ms: 195190\n  end_ms: 197970\n- text: Escape from your dragon's lair\n  start_ms: 197970\n  end_ms: 199620\n- text: In particular, my beats travel like a vortex\n  start_ms: 199620\n  end_ms: 202250\n- text: Through your spine to the top of your cerebral cortex\n  start_ms: 202250\n  end_ms: 204850\n- text: Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n  start_ms: 204850\n  end_ms: 207150\n- text: Enter through your right ventricle clog up your bloodstream\n  start_ms: 207150\n  end_ms: 209660\n- text: Heart terminal like Grand Central Station\n  start_ms: 209660\n  end_ms: 211800\n- text: Program fat baselines on Novation\n  start_ms: 211800\n  end_ms: 213890\n- text: Getting drunk like I'm fucking duckin' five-year probation\n  start_ms: 213890\n  end_ms: 216370\n- text: War of the masses, the outcome disastrous\n  start_ms: 216370\n  end_ms: 219090\n- text: Many of the victim families save their ashes\n  start_ms: 219090\n  end_ms: 221670\n- text: A million names on walls, engraved in plaques\n  start_ms: 221670\n  end_ms: 224330\n- text: Those who went back received penalties for their acts\n  start_ms: 224330\n  end_ms: 226800\n- text: Another heart is torn as close ones mourn\n  start_ms: 226800\n  end_ms: 229510\n- text: Those who stray, niggas get slayed on the song\n  start_ms: 229510\n  end_ms: 232060\n- text: The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n  start_ms: 232060\n  end_ms: 235600\n- text: And leaks sounds that's heard\n  start_ms: 235600\n  end_ms: 237410\n- text: 93 million miles away from\n  start_ms: 237410\n  end_ms: 239570\n- text: Came one to represent the Nation\n  start_ms: 239570\n  end_ms: 241460\n- text: This is a gathering of the masses\n  start_ms: 241460\n  end_ms: 243780\n- text: That come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n  start_ms: 243780\n  end_ms: 246670\n- text: As we engage in battle, the crowd now screams in rage\n  start_ms: 246670\n  end_ms: 250480\n- text: The high chief Jamel Irief takes the stage\n  start_ms: 250480\n  end_ms: 253530\n- text: Light is provided through sparks of energy\n  start_ms: 253530\n  end_ms: 255920\n- text: From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n  start_ms: 255920\n  end_ms: 258380\n- text: Giving sight to the blind\n  start_ms: 258380\n  end_ms: 259880\n- text: The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n  start_ms: 259880\n  end_ms: 262430\n- text: Death only one can save self from\n  start_ms: 262430\n  end_ms: 265020\n- text: This relentless attack of the track spares none\n  start_ms: 265020\n  end_ms: 268360\n- text: Yo, yo, yo, fuck that\n  start_ms: 268360\n  end_ms: 269970\n- text: Look at all these crab niggas laid back\n  start_ms: 269970\n  end_ms: 271780\n- text: Lampin' like them gray and black Puma's on my man's rack\n  start_ms: 271780\n  end_ms: 274530\n- text: Codeine was forced in your drink\n  start_ms: 274530\n  end_ms: 276110\n- text: You had a navy green salamander fiend\n  start_ms: 276110\n  end_ms: 278190\n- text: Bitches overheard you scream\n  start_ms: 278190\n  end_ms: 279650\n- text: You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n  start_ms: 279650\n  end_ms: 282770\n- text: Blowing like Shalamar in '81\n  start_ms: 282770\n  end_ms: 284590\n- text: Sound convincing, thousand dollar cork-pop convention\n  start_ms: 284590\n  end_ms: 287570\n- text: Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n  start_ms: 287570\n  end_ms: 290080\n- text: Hold the fuck up, I'll unfasten your wig, bad luck\n  start_ms: 290080\n  end_ms: 292710\n- text: I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n  start_ms: 292710\n  end_ms: 295310\n- text: It's me, Black Noble Drew Ali, came in threes\n  start_ms: 295310\n  end_ms: 297880\n- text: We like the Genovese, sazon season these degrees\n  start_ms: 297880\n  end_ms: 300690\n- text: It's Earth, 93 million miles from the first\n  start_ms: 300690\n  end_ms: 303200\n- text: Rough turbulence, the wave burst, split the megahertz\n  start_ms: 303200\n  end_ms: 305880\n- text: Ayo, that's amazing\n  start_ms: 305880\n  end_ms: 307120\n- text: Gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n  start_ms: 307120\n  end_ms: 309150\n- text: Connect thoughts to make my man child walk\n  start_ms: 309150\n  end_ms: 311190\n- text: Swift notarizer, Blue-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n  start_ms: 311190\n  end_ms: 314210\n- text: New York Yank visor, word tranquilizer\n  start_ms: 314210\n  end_ms: 316260\n- text: Adjust the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n  start_ms: 316260\n  end_ms: 319120\n- text: While, my pen blow lines ferocious\n  start_ms: 319120\n  end_ms: 321260\n- text: Mediterranean, see y'all, the number one draft pick\n  start_ms: 321260\n  end_ms: 324250\n- text: Tear down the beat, God, then delegate the God to see God\n  start_ms: 324250\n  end_ms: 326790\n- text: The swift chancellor, flex the white gold tarantula\n  start_ms: 326790\n  end_ms: 329470\n- text: Track truck diesel, play the weed God substantiala\n  start_ms: 329470\n  end_ms: 332390\n- text: Max mostly, undivided then slide in sickening\n  start_ms: 332390\n  end_ms: 335580\n- text: Guaranteed made 'em jump like Rod Strickland\n  start_ms: 335580\nplain: |-\n  What y'all thought y'all wasn't gon' see me?\n  I'm the Osiris of this shit\n  Wu-Tang is here forever, motherfuckers\n  This like, this '97\n  Aight my niggas and my niggarettes\n  Let's do it like this\n  I'ma rub your ass in the moonshine\n  Let's take it back to '79\n  I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies and hypotheses\n  Can't define how I be droppin' these mockeries\n  Lyrically perform armed robbery\n  Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n  Battle-scarred Shogun, explosion when my pen hits tremendous\n  Ultra-violet shine blind forensics\n  I inspect view through the future see millennium\n  Killa Beez sold fifty gold, sixty platinum\n  Shackling the masses with drastic rap tactics\n  Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n  Black Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\n  Rumble with patrolmen, tear gas laced the function\n  Heads by the score take flight, incite a war\n  Chicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\n  Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n  Proceeds to blow, swingin' swords like Shinobi\n  Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n  Wu got it locked, performin' live on your hottest block\n  As the world turns, I spread like germs\n  Bless the globe with the pestilence, the hard-headed never learn\n  It's my testament to those burned\n  Play my position in the game of life, standing firm\n  On foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan\n  Into the fire, transform into the Ghost Rider\n  A six-pack and A Streetcar Named Desire\n  Who got my back? In the line of fire, holding back\n  What? My peoples if you with me, where the fuck you at?\n  Niggas is strapped and they tryna twist my beer cap\n  It's court adjourned for the bad seed from bad sperm\n  Herb got my wig fried like a bad perm\n  What the blood clot? We smoke pot, and blow spots\n  You wanna think twice? I think not\n  The Iron Lung ain't got to tell you where it's coming from\n  Guns of Navarone tearing up your battle zone\n  Rip through your slums\n  I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n  Loot my voice on the LP\n  Martini on the slang rocks, certified chatterbox\n  Vocabulary 'Donna talking, tell your story walking\n  Take cover, kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\n  Run for your team, and your \"six can't rhyme\" groupies\n  So I can squeeze with the advantage and get wasted\n  My deadly notes reigns supreme\n  Your thought is basic compared to mine\n  Domino effect, arts and crafts, paragraphs contain cyanide\n  Take a free ride on my thought\n  I got the fashion catalogs for all y'all to all praise due to God\n  The saga continues\n  Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n  Olympic torch flaming, we burn so sweet\n  The thrill of victory, the agony of defeat\n  We crush slow, flaming deluxe slow for\n  Judgment Day cometh, conquer, it's war\n  Allow us to escape Hell, globe spinning bomb\n  Pocket full of shells out the sky Golden Arms\n  Tunes spit the shitty Mortal Kombat sound\n  The fake false step make the blood stain the ground\n  A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n  A death kiss catwalk, squeeze another anthem\n  Hold it for ransom, tranquilized with anesthesia\n  My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n  My music Sicily, rich California smell\n  An axe killer adventure, paint a picture well\n  I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n  Righteous wax chaperon, rotating ring king\n  March of the wooden soldiers, C-Cypher Punks couldn't hold us\n  A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n  Perpendicular to the square, we stand bold like Flare\n  Escape from your dragon's lair\n  In particular, my beats travel like a vortex\n  Through your spine to the top of your cerebral cortex\n  Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n  Enter through your right ventricle clog up your bloodstream\n  Heart terminal like Grand Central Station\n  Program fat baselines on Novation\n  Getting drunk like I'm fucking duckin' five-year probation\n  War of the masses, the outcome disastrous\n  Many of the victim families save their ashes\n  A million names on walls, engraved in plaques\n  Those who went back received penalties for their acts\n  Another heart is torn as close ones mourn\n  Those who stray, niggas get slayed on the song\n  The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n  And leaks sounds that's heard\n  93 million miles away from\n  Came one to represent the Nation\n  This is a gathering of the masses\n  That come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n  As we engage in battle, the crowd now screams in rage\n  The high chief Jamel Irief takes the stage\n  Light is provided through sparks of energy\n  From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n  Giving sight to the blind\n  The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n  Death only one can save self from\n  This relentless attack of the track spares none\n  Yo, yo, yo, fuck that\n  Look at all these crab niggas laid back\n  Lampin' like them gray and black Puma's on my man's rack\n  Codeine was forced in your drink\n  You had a navy green salamander fiend\n  Bitches overheard you scream\n  You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n  Blowing like Shalamar in '81\n  Sound convincing, thousand dollar cork-pop convention\n  Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n  Hold the fuck up, I'll unfasten your wig, bad luck\n  I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n  It's me, Black Noble Drew Ali, came in threes\n  We like the Genovese, sazon season these degrees\n  It's Earth, 93 million miles from the first\n  Rough turbulence, the wave burst, split the megahertz\n  Ayo, that's amazing\n  Gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n  Connect thoughts to make my man child walk\n  Swift notarizer, Blue-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n  New York Yank visor, word tranquilizer\n  Adjust the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n  While, my pen blow lines ferocious\n  Mediterranean, see y'all, the number one draft pick\n  Tear down the beat, God, then delegate the God to see God\n  The swift chancellor, flex the white gold tarantula\n  Track truck diesel, play the weed God substantiala\n  Max mostly, undivided then slide in sickening\n  Guaranteed made 'em jump like Rod Strickland\n"},{"id":24577078,"name":"Triumph (Featuring Cappadonna) Clean Version","trackName":"Triumph (Featuring Cappadonna) Clean Version","artistName":"Wu-Tang Clan","albumName":"Wu-Tang Clan Triumph (Single)","duration":337.548481,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"What y'all thought y'all wasn't gonna see me?\nI'm the Osiris of this shit\nWu-Tang is here forever, motherfuckers\nThis '97\nA'ight, my niggas and my niggarettes\nLet's do it like this\nI'ma rub your ass in the moonshine\nLet's take it back to '79\n\nI bomb atomically\nSocrates' philosophies and hypotheses\nCan't define how I be dropping these mockeries\nLyrically perform armed robbery\nFlee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\nBattle-scarred Shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n\nTremendous, ultraviolet shine blind forensics\nI inspect you, through the future see millennium\nKiller Bees sold fifty gold, sixty platinum\nShackling the masses with drastic rap tactics\nGraphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\nBlack Wu jackets Queen B's ease the guns in\nRumble with patrolmen, tear gas laced the function\nHeads by the score take flight incite a war\nChicks hit the floor, die hard fans demand more\nBehold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\nProceeds to blow, swinging swords like Shinobi\nStomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\nWu got it locked, performing live on your hottest block\n\nAs the world turns, I spread like germs\nBless the globe with the pestilence\nThe hard-headed never learn\nIt's my testament to those burned\nPlay my position in the game of life standing firm\nOn foreign land jump the gun out the frying pan into the fire\nTransform into the Ghost Rider\nA six-pack and a streetcar named desire\nWho got my back in the line of fire holding back what\nMy peoples if you with me where the fuck you at\nNiggas is strapped and they trying to twist my beer cap\nIs court adjourned for the bad seed from bad sperm\nHerb got my wig fried like a bad perm, what the blood\nClot, we smoke pot and blow spots\nYou want to think twice, I think not\nThe Iron Lung ain't got to tell you where it's coming from\nGuns of Navarone, tearing up your battle zone\nRip through your slums\n\nI twist darts from the heart, tried and true\nLoop my voice on the LP, martini on the slang rocks\nCertified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\nTell your story walking\nTake cover, kid, what?\nRun for your brother kid\nRun for your team and your six camp rhyme groupies\nSo I can squeeze with the advantage and get wasted\nMy deadly notes reigns supreme\nYour fort is basic compared to mine\nDomino effect, arts and crafts\nParagraphs contain cyanide\nTake a free ride on my thought I got the fashion\nCatalogs for all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n\nThe saga continues\nWu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n\nOlympic torch flaming, we burn so sweet\nThe thrill of victory, the agony defeat\nWe crush slow, flaming deluxe slow\nFor judgment day cometh, conquer it's war\nAllow us to escape, hell glow spinning bomb\nPocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\nTunes split the shitty Mortal Kombat sound\nThe fateful step make, the blood stain the ground\nA jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\nA death kiss, catwalk, squeeze another anthem\nHold it for ransom, tranquilized with anesthesia\nMy orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\nMy music Sicily, rich California smell\nThe axe kill adventure, paint a picture well\nI sing a song from Sing-Sing, sipping on ginseng\nRighteous wax chaperone, rotating ring kings\n\nMarch of the wooden soldiers\nC-Cypher-Punks couldn't hold us\nA thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\nPerpendicular to the square we stamp gold like Fleer\nEscape from your dragon's lair in particular\nMy beats travel like a vortex through your spine\nTo the top of your cerebral cortex\nMake you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\nEnter through your right ventricle clog up your bloodstream\nNow terminal like Grand Central Station\nProgram fat baselines on Novation\nGetting drunk like a fuck, I'm ducking five-year probation\n\nWar of the masses, the outcome disastrous\nMany of the victim family save they ashes\nA million names on walls engraved in plaques\nThose who went back received penalties for their acts\nAnother heart is torn as close ones mourn\nThose who stray, niggas get slayed on the song\n\nThe track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\nAnd leaks sounds that's heard\n93 million miles away from came one\nTo represent the Nation, this is a gathering\nOf the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\nAs we engage in battle, the crowd now screams in rage\nThe high chief Jamel Arief takes the stage\nLight is provided through sparks of energy\nFrom the mind that travels in rhyme form\nGiving sight to the blind\nThe dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\nDeath only one can save self from\nThis relentless attack of the track spares none\n\nYo-yo-yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggas laid back\nLamping like them gray and black Puma's on my man's rack\nCodeine was forced in your drink\nYou had a Navy green salamander fiend, bitches overheard you scream\nYou two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\nBlowing like Shalamar in 81\nSound convincing, thousand dollar cord by convention\nHands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\nHold the fuck up, I'll unfasten your wig, bad luck\nI humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\nIt's me, black, Noble Drew Ali\nCame in threes we like the Genovese, is that so\nCaesar needs the greens, it's Earth\nNinety-three million miles from the first\nRough turbulence, the wave burst, split the megahertz\n\nAyy-yo that's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\nConnect thoughts to make my man child walk\nSwift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\nNew York Yank visor world tranquilizer\nJust a dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\nWhile my pen blow lines ferocious\nMediterranean, see y'all, the number one draft pick\nTear down the beat God, then delegate the God to see God\nThe swift chancellor, flex the white gold tarantula\nTrack truck diesel, play the weed God substantiala\nMax mostly, undivided then slide in sickening\nGuaranteed made 'em jump like Rod Strickland","syncedLyrics":"[00:03.08] What y'all thought y'all wasn't gonna see me?\n[00:06.64] I'm the Osiris of this shit\n[00:08.68] Wu-Tang is here forever, motherfuckers\n[00:10.12] This '97\n[00:12.65] A'ight, my niggas and my niggarettes\n[00:14.96] Let's do it like this\n[00:17.61] I'ma rub your ass in the moonshine\n[00:18.55] Let's take it back to '79\n[00:21.05] I bomb atomically\n[00:22.23] Socrates' philosophies and hypotheses\n[00:24.88] Can't define how I be dropping these mockeries\n[00:27.14] Lyrically perform armed robbery\n[00:29.19] Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n[00:29.72] Battle-scarred Shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n[00:34.24] Tremendous, ultraviolet shine blind forensics\n[00:37.08] I inspect you, through the future see millennium\n[00:39.65] Killer Bees sold fifty gold, sixty platinum\n[00:42.23] Shackling the masses with drastic rap tactics\n[00:44.93] Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n[00:47.58] Black Wu jackets Queen B's ease the guns in\n[00:50.25] Rumble with patrolmen, tear gas laced the function\n[00:52.85] Heads by the score take flight incite a war\n[00:55.17] Chicks hit the floor, die hard fans demand more\n[00:57.92] Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n[01:00.71] Proceeds to blow, swinging swords like Shinobi\n[01:03.31] Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n[01:05.84] Wu got it locked, performing live on your hottest block\n[01:08.36] As the world turns, I spread like germs\n[01:11.73] Bless the globe with the pestilence\n[01:13.22] The hard-headed never learn\n[01:14.63] It's my testament to those burned\n[01:15.41] Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n[01:18.07] On foreign land jump the gun out the frying pan into the fire\n[01:21.52] Transform into the Ghost Rider\n[01:23.43] A six-pack and a streetcar named desire\n[01:26.03] Who got my back in the line of fire holding back what\n[01:28.98] My peoples if you with me where the fuck you at\n[01:31.25] Niggas is strapped and they trying to twist my beer cap\n[01:33.99] Is court adjourned for the bad seed from bad sperm\n[01:36.74] Herb got my wig fried like a bad perm, what the blood\n[01:40.39] Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n[01:42.57] You want to think twice, I think not\n[01:44.58] The Iron Lung ain't got to tell you where it's coming from\n[01:47.18] Guns of Navarone, tearing up your battle zone\n[01:49.60] Rip through your slums\n[01:50.63] I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n[01:53.17] Loop my voice on the LP, martini on the slang rocks\n[01:56.56] Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n[01:59.86] Tell your story walking\n[02:01.21] Take cover, kid, what?\n[02:02.84] Run for your brother kid\n[02:04.12] Run for your team and your six camp rhyme groupies\n[02:06.97] So I can squeeze with the advantage and get wasted\n[02:10.51] My deadly notes reigns supreme\n[02:13.45] Your fort is basic compared to mine\n[02:14.68] Domino effect, arts and crafts\n[02:16.63] Paragraphs contain cyanide\n[02:18.69] Take a free ride on my thought I got the fashion\n[02:21.25] Catalogs for all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n[02:24.36] The saga continues\n[02:25.92] Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n[02:27.68] Olympic torch flaming, we burn so sweet\n[02:30.27] The thrill of victory, the agony defeat\n[02:32.89] We crush slow, flaming deluxe slow\n[02:35.21] For judgment day cometh, conquer it's war\n[02:38.20] Allow us to escape, hell glow spinning bomb\n[02:40.93] Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n[02:43.59] Tunes split the shitty Mortal Kombat sound\n[02:46.06] The fateful step make, the blood stain the ground\n[02:48.72] A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n[02:51.33] A death kiss, catwalk, squeeze another anthem\n[02:53.95] Hold it for ransom, tranquilized with anesthesia\n[02:56.60] My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n[02:59.21] My music Sicily, rich California smell\n[03:01.94] The axe kill adventure, paint a picture well\n[03:04.50] I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sipping on ginseng\n[03:07.34] Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring kings\n[03:10.62] March of the wooden soldiers\n[03:12.47] C-Cypher-Punks couldn't hold us\n[03:13.61] A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n[03:14.83] Perpendicular to the square we stamp gold like Fleer\n[03:17.72] Escape from your dragon's lair in particular\n[03:20.23] My beats travel like a vortex through your spine\n[03:22.81] To the top of your cerebral cortex\n[03:24.74] Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n[03:27.08] Enter through your right ventricle clog up your bloodstream\n[03:30.40] Now terminal like Grand Central Station\n[03:31.68] Program fat baselines on Novation\n[03:33.48] Getting drunk like a fuck, I'm ducking five-year probation\n[03:36.35] War of the masses, the outcome disastrous\n[03:39.04] Many of the victim family save they ashes\n[03:41.59] A million names on walls engraved in plaques\n[03:43.94] Those who went back received penalties for their acts\n[03:46.71] Another heart is torn as close ones mourn\n[03:49.39] Those who stray, niggas get slayed on the song\n[03:51.95] The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n[03:55.32] And leaks sounds that's heard\n[03:58.32] 93 million miles away from came one\n[03:59.94] To represent the Nation, this is a gathering\n[04:02.78] Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n[04:06.74] As we engage in battle, the crowd now screams in rage\n[04:10.48] The high chief Jamel Arief takes the stage\n[04:13.24] Light is provided through sparks of energy\n[04:15.54] From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n[04:18.20] Giving sight to the blind\n[04:19.79] The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n[04:22.45] Death only one can save self from\n[04:24.74] This relentless attack of the track spares none\n[04:28.01] Yo-yo-yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggas laid back\n[04:31.63] Lamping like them gray and black Puma's on my man's rack\n[04:35.66] Codeine was forced in your drink\n[04:37.35] You had a Navy green salamander fiend, bitches overheard you scream\n[04:39.45] You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n[04:42.50] Blowing like Shalamar in 81\n[04:44.36] Sound convincing, thousand dollar cord by convention\n[04:47.31] Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n[04:49.89] Hold the fuck up, I'll unfasten your wig, bad luck\n[04:52.46] I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n[04:55.18] It's me, black, Noble Drew Ali\n[04:58.67] Came in threes we like the Genovese, is that so\n[05:00.72] Caesar needs the greens, it's Earth\n[05:02.32] Ninety-three million miles from the first\n[05:02.97] Rough turbulence, the wave burst, split the megahertz\n[05:06.46] Ayy-yo that's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n[05:08.74] Connect thoughts to make my man child walk\n[05:12.26] Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n[05:14.01] New York Yank visor world tranquilizer\n[05:17.27] Just a dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n[05:19.08] While my pen blow lines ferocious\n[05:22.06] Mediterranean, see y'all, the number one draft pick\n[05:23.95] Tear down the beat God, then delegate the God to see God\n[05:26.53] The swift chancellor, flex the white gold tarantula\n[05:29.44] Track truck diesel, play the weed God substantiala\n[05:32.00] Max mostly, undivided then slide in sickening\n[05:35.38] Guaranteed made 'em jump like Rod Strickland\n[05:37.54] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Triumph (Featuring Cappadonna) Clean Version\n  artist: Wu-Tang Clan\n  album: Wu-Tang Clan Triumph (Single)\n  duration_ms: 337548\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: What y'all thought y'all wasn't gonna see me?\n  start_ms: 3080\n  end_ms: 6640\n- text: I'm the Osiris of this shit\n  start_ms: 6640\n  end_ms: 8680\n- text: Wu-Tang is here forever, motherfuckers\n  start_ms: 8680\n  end_ms: 10120\n- text: This '97\n  start_ms: 10120\n  end_ms: 12650\n- text: A'ight, my niggas and my niggarettes\n  start_ms: 12650\n  end_ms: 14960\n- text: Let's do it like this\n  start_ms: 14960\n  end_ms: 17610\n- text: I'ma rub your ass in the moonshine\n  start_ms: 17610\n  end_ms: 18550\n- text: Let's take it back to '79\n  start_ms: 18550\n  end_ms: 21050\n- text: I bomb atomically\n  start_ms: 21050\n  end_ms: 22230\n- text: Socrates' philosophies and hypotheses\n  start_ms: 22230\n  end_ms: 24880\n- text: Can't define how I be dropping these mockeries\n  start_ms: 24880\n  end_ms: 27140\n- text: Lyrically perform armed robbery\n  start_ms: 27140\n  end_ms: 29190\n- text: Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n  start_ms: 29190\n  end_ms: 29720\n- text: Battle-scarred Shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n  start_ms: 29720\n  end_ms: 34240\n- text: Tremendous, ultraviolet shine blind forensics\n  start_ms: 34240\n  end_ms: 37080\n- text: I inspect you, through the future see millennium\n  start_ms: 37080\n  end_ms: 39650\n- text: Killer Bees sold fifty gold, sixty platinum\n  start_ms: 39650\n  end_ms: 42230\n- text: Shackling the masses with drastic rap tactics\n  start_ms: 42230\n  end_ms: 44930\n- text: Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n  start_ms: 44930\n  end_ms: 47580\n- text: Black Wu jackets Queen B's ease the guns in\n  start_ms: 47580\n  end_ms: 50250\n- text: Rumble with patrolmen, tear gas laced the function\n  start_ms: 50250\n  end_ms: 52850\n- text: Heads by the score take flight incite a war\n  start_ms: 52850\n  end_ms: 55170\n- text: Chicks hit the floor, die hard fans demand more\n  start_ms: 55170\n  end_ms: 57920\n- text: Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n  start_ms: 57920\n  end_ms: 60710\n- text: Proceeds to blow, swinging swords like Shinobi\n  start_ms: 60710\n  end_ms: 63310\n- text: Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n  start_ms: 63310\n  end_ms: 65840\n- text: Wu got it locked, performing live on your hottest block\n  start_ms: 65840\n  end_ms: 68360\n- text: As the world turns, I spread like germs\n  start_ms: 68360\n  end_ms: 71730\n- text: Bless the globe with the pestilence\n  start_ms: 71730\n  end_ms: 73220\n- text: The hard-headed never learn\n  start_ms: 73220\n  end_ms: 74630\n- text: It's my testament to those burned\n  start_ms: 74630\n  end_ms: 75410\n- text: Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n  start_ms: 75410\n  end_ms: 78070\n- text: On foreign land jump the gun out the frying pan into the fire\n  start_ms: 78070\n  end_ms: 81520\n- text: Transform into the Ghost Rider\n  start_ms: 81520\n  end_ms: 83430\n- text: A six-pack and a streetcar named desire\n  start_ms: 83430\n  end_ms: 86030\n- text: Who got my back in the line of fire holding back what\n  start_ms: 86030\n  end_ms: 88980\n- text: My peoples if you with me where the fuck you at\n  start_ms: 88980\n  end_ms: 91250\n- text: Niggas is strapped and they trying to twist my beer cap\n  start_ms: 91250\n  end_ms: 93990\n- text: Is court adjourned for the bad seed from bad sperm\n  start_ms: 93990\n  end_ms: 96740\n- text: Herb got my wig fried like a bad perm, what the blood\n  start_ms: 96740\n  end_ms: 100390\n- text: Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n  start_ms: 100390\n  end_ms: 102570\n- text: You want to think twice, I think not\n  start_ms: 102570\n  end_ms: 104580\n- text: The Iron Lung ain't got to tell you where it's coming from\n  start_ms: 104580\n  end_ms: 107180\n- text: Guns of Navarone, tearing up your battle zone\n  start_ms: 107180\n  end_ms: 109600\n- text: Rip through your slums\n  start_ms: 109600\n  end_ms: 110630\n- text: I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n  start_ms: 110630\n  end_ms: 113170\n- text: Loop my voice on the LP, martini on the slang rocks\n  start_ms: 113170\n  end_ms: 116560\n- text: Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n  start_ms: 116560\n  end_ms: 119860\n- text: Tell your story walking\n  start_ms: 119860\n  end_ms: 121210\n- text: Take cover, kid, what?\n  start_ms: 121210\n  end_ms: 122840\n- text: Run for your brother kid\n  start_ms: 122840\n  end_ms: 124120\n- text: Run for your team and your six camp rhyme groupies\n  start_ms: 124120\n  end_ms: 126970\n- text: So I can squeeze with the advantage and get wasted\n  start_ms: 126970\n  end_ms: 130510\n- text: My deadly notes reigns supreme\n  start_ms: 130510\n  end_ms: 133450\n- text: Your fort is basic compared to mine\n  start_ms: 133450\n  end_ms: 134680\n- text: Domino effect, arts and crafts\n  start_ms: 134680\n  end_ms: 136630\n- text: Paragraphs contain cyanide\n  start_ms: 136630\n  end_ms: 138690\n- text: Take a free ride on my thought I got the fashion\n  start_ms: 138690\n  end_ms: 141250\n- text: Catalogs for all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n  start_ms: 141250\n  end_ms: 144360\n- text: The saga continues\n  start_ms: 144360\n  end_ms: 145920\n- text: Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n  start_ms: 145920\n  end_ms: 147680\n- text: Olympic torch flaming, we burn so sweet\n  start_ms: 147680\n  end_ms: 150270\n- text: The thrill of victory, the agony defeat\n  start_ms: 150270\n  end_ms: 152890\n- text: We crush slow, flaming deluxe slow\n  start_ms: 152890\n  end_ms: 155210\n- text: For judgment day cometh, conquer it's war\n  start_ms: 155210\n  end_ms: 158200\n- text: Allow us to escape, hell glow spinning bomb\n  start_ms: 158200\n  end_ms: 160930\n- text: Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n  start_ms: 160930\n  end_ms: 163590\n- text: Tunes split the shitty Mortal Kombat sound\n  start_ms: 163590\n  end_ms: 166060\n- text: The fateful step make, the blood stain the ground\n  start_ms: 166060\n  end_ms: 168720\n- text: A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n  start_ms: 168720\n  end_ms: 171330\n- text: A death kiss, catwalk, squeeze another anthem\n  start_ms: 171330\n  end_ms: 173950\n- text: Hold it for ransom, tranquilized with anesthesia\n  start_ms: 173950\n  end_ms: 176600\n- text: My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n  start_ms: 176600\n  end_ms: 179210\n- text: My music Sicily, rich California smell\n  start_ms: 179210\n  end_ms: 181940\n- text: The axe kill adventure, paint a picture well\n  start_ms: 181940\n  end_ms: 184500\n- text: I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sipping on ginseng\n  start_ms: 184500\n  end_ms: 187340\n- text: Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring kings\n  start_ms: 187340\n  end_ms: 190620\n- text: March of the wooden soldiers\n  start_ms: 190620\n  end_ms: 192470\n- text: C-Cypher-Punks couldn't hold us\n  start_ms: 192470\n  end_ms: 193610\n- text: A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n  start_ms: 193610\n  end_ms: 194830\n- text: Perpendicular to the square we stamp gold like Fleer\n  start_ms: 194830\n  end_ms: 197720\n- text: Escape from your dragon's lair in particular\n  start_ms: 197720\n  end_ms: 200230\n- text: My beats travel like a vortex through your spine\n  start_ms: 200230\n  end_ms: 202810\n- text: To the top of your cerebral cortex\n  start_ms: 202810\n  end_ms: 204740\n- text: Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n  start_ms: 204740\n  end_ms: 207080\n- text: Enter through your right ventricle clog up your bloodstream\n  start_ms: 207080\n  end_ms: 210400\n- text: Now terminal like Grand Central Station\n  start_ms: 210400\n  end_ms: 211680\n- text: Program fat baselines on Novation\n  start_ms: 211680\n  end_ms: 213480\n- text: Getting drunk like a fuck, I'm ducking five-year probation\n  start_ms: 213480\n  end_ms: 216350\n- text: War of the masses, the outcome disastrous\n  start_ms: 216350\n  end_ms: 219040\n- text: Many of the victim family save they ashes\n  start_ms: 219040\n  end_ms: 221590\n- text: A million names on walls engraved in plaques\n  start_ms: 221590\n  end_ms: 223940\n- text: Those who went back received penalties for their acts\n  start_ms: 223940\n  end_ms: 226710\n- text: Another heart is torn as close ones mourn\n  start_ms: 226710\n  end_ms: 229390\n- text: Those who stray, niggas get slayed on the song\n  start_ms: 229390\n  end_ms: 231950\n- text: The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n  start_ms: 231950\n  end_ms: 235320\n- text: And leaks sounds that's heard\n  start_ms: 235320\n  end_ms: 238320\n- text: 93 million miles away from came one\n  start_ms: 238320\n  end_ms: 239940\n- text: To represent the Nation, this is a gathering\n  start_ms: 239940\n  end_ms: 242780\n- text: Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n  start_ms: 242780\n  end_ms: 246740\n- text: As we engage in battle, the crowd now screams in rage\n  start_ms: 246740\n  end_ms: 250480\n- text: The high chief Jamel Arief takes the stage\n  start_ms: 250480\n  end_ms: 253240\n- text: Light is provided through sparks of energy\n  start_ms: 253240\n  end_ms: 255540\n- text: From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n  start_ms: 255540\n  end_ms: 258200\n- text: Giving sight to the blind\n  start_ms: 258200\n  end_ms: 259790\n- text: The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n  start_ms: 259790\n  end_ms: 262450\n- text: Death only one can save self from\n  start_ms: 262450\n  end_ms: 264740\n- text: This relentless attack of the track spares none\n  start_ms: 264740\n  end_ms: 268010\n- text: Yo-yo-yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggas laid back\n  start_ms: 268010\n  end_ms: 271630\n- text: Lamping like them gray and black Puma's on my man's rack\n  start_ms: 271630\n  end_ms: 275660\n- text: Codeine was forced in your drink\n  start_ms: 275660\n  end_ms: 277350\n- text: You had a Navy green salamander fiend, bitches overheard you scream\n  start_ms: 277350\n  end_ms: 279450\n- text: You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n  start_ms: 279450\n  end_ms: 282500\n- text: Blowing like Shalamar in 81\n  start_ms: 282500\n  end_ms: 284360\n- text: Sound convincing, thousand dollar cord by convention\n  start_ms: 284360\n  end_ms: 287310\n- text: Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n  start_ms: 287310\n  end_ms: 289890\n- text: Hold the fuck up, I'll unfasten your wig, bad luck\n  start_ms: 289890\n  end_ms: 292460\n- text: I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n  start_ms: 292460\n  end_ms: 295180\n- text: It's me, black, Noble Drew Ali\n  start_ms: 295180\n  end_ms: 298670\n- text: Came in threes we like the Genovese, is that so\n  start_ms: 298670\n  end_ms: 300720\n- text: Caesar needs the greens, it's Earth\n  start_ms: 300720\n  end_ms: 302320\n- text: Ninety-three million miles from the first\n  start_ms: 302320\n  end_ms: 302970\n- text: Rough turbulence, the wave burst, split the megahertz\n  start_ms: 302970\n  end_ms: 306460\n- text: Ayy-yo that's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n  start_ms: 306460\n  end_ms: 308740\n- text: Connect thoughts to make my man child walk\n  start_ms: 308740\n  end_ms: 312260\n- text: Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n  start_ms: 312260\n  end_ms: 314010\n- text: New York Yank visor world tranquilizer\n  start_ms: 314010\n  end_ms: 317270\n- text: Just a dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n  start_ms: 317270\n  end_ms: 319080\n- text: While my pen blow lines ferocious\n  start_ms: 319080\n  end_ms: 322060\n- text: Mediterranean, see y'all, the number one draft pick\n  start_ms: 322060\n  end_ms: 323950\n- text: Tear down the beat God, then delegate the God to see God\n  start_ms: 323950\n  end_ms: 326530\n- text: The swift chancellor, flex the white gold tarantula\n  start_ms: 326530\n  end_ms: 329440\n- text: Track truck diesel, play the weed God substantiala\n  start_ms: 329440\n  end_ms: 332000\n- text: Max mostly, undivided then slide in sickening\n  start_ms: 332000\n  end_ms: 335380\n- text: Guaranteed made 'em jump like Rod Strickland\n  start_ms: 335380\n  end_ms: 337540\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 337540\nplain: |-\n  What y'all thought y'all wasn't gonna see me?\n  I'm the Osiris of this shit\n  Wu-Tang is here forever, motherfuckers\n  This '97\n  A'ight, my niggas and my niggarettes\n  Let's do it like this\n  I'ma rub your ass in the moonshine\n  Let's take it back to '79\n\n  I bomb atomically\n  Socrates' philosophies and hypotheses\n  Can't define how I be dropping these mockeries\n  Lyrically perform armed robbery\n  Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n  Battle-scarred Shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n\n  Tremendous, ultraviolet shine blind forensics\n  I inspect you, through the future see millennium\n  Killer Bees sold fifty gold, sixty platinum\n  Shackling the masses with drastic rap tactics\n  Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n  Black Wu jackets Queen B's ease the guns in\n  Rumble with patrolmen, tear gas laced the function\n  Heads by the score take flight incite a war\n  Chicks hit the floor, die hard fans demand more\n  Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n  Proceeds to blow, swinging swords like Shinobi\n  Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n  Wu got it locked, performing live on your hottest block\n\n  As the world turns, I spread like germs\n  Bless the globe with the pestilence\n  The hard-headed never learn\n  It's my testament to those burned\n  Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n  On foreign land jump the gun out the frying pan into the fire\n  Transform into the Ghost Rider\n  A six-pack and a streetcar named desire\n  Who got my back in the line of fire holding back what\n  My peoples if you with me where the fuck you at\n  Niggas is strapped and they trying to twist my beer cap\n  Is court adjourned for the bad seed from bad sperm\n  Herb got my wig fried like a bad perm, what the blood\n  Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n  You want to think twice, I think not\n  The Iron Lung ain't got to tell you where it's coming from\n  Guns of Navarone, tearing up your battle zone\n  Rip through your slums\n\n  I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n  Loop my voice on the LP, martini on the slang rocks\n  Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n  Tell your story walking\n  Take cover, kid, what?\n  Run for your brother kid\n  Run for your team and your six camp rhyme groupies\n  So I can squeeze with the advantage and get wasted\n  My deadly notes reigns supreme\n  Your fort is basic compared to mine\n  Domino effect, arts and crafts\n  Paragraphs contain cyanide\n  Take a free ride on my thought I got the fashion\n  Catalogs for all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n\n  The saga continues\n  Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n\n  Olympic torch flaming, we burn so sweet\n  The thrill of victory, the agony defeat\n  We crush slow, flaming deluxe slow\n  For judgment day cometh, conquer it's war\n  Allow us to escape, hell glow spinning bomb\n  Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n  Tunes split the shitty Mortal Kombat sound\n  The fateful step make, the blood stain the ground\n  A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n  A death kiss, catwalk, squeeze another anthem\n  Hold it for ransom, tranquilized with anesthesia\n  My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n  My music Sicily, rich California smell\n  The axe kill adventure, paint a picture well\n  I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sipping on ginseng\n  Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring kings\n\n  March of the wooden soldiers\n  C-Cypher-Punks couldn't hold us\n  A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n  Perpendicular to the square we stamp gold like Fleer\n  Escape from your dragon's lair in particular\n  My beats travel like a vortex through your spine\n  To the top of your cerebral cortex\n  Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n  Enter through your right ventricle clog up your bloodstream\n  Now terminal like Grand Central Station\n  Program fat baselines on Novation\n  Getting drunk like a fuck, I'm ducking five-year probation\n\n  War of the masses, the outcome disastrous\n  Many of the victim family save they ashes\n  A million names on walls engraved in plaques\n  Those who went back received penalties for their acts\n  Another heart is torn as close ones mourn\n  Those who stray, niggas get slayed on the song\n\n  The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n  And leaks sounds that's heard\n  93 million miles away from came one\n  To represent the Nation, this is a gathering\n  Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n  As we engage in battle, the crowd now screams in rage\n  The high chief Jamel Arief takes the stage\n  Light is provided through sparks of energy\n  From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n  Giving sight to the blind\n  The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n  Death only one can save self from\n  This relentless attack of the track spares none\n\n  Yo-yo-yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggas laid back\n  Lamping like them gray and black Puma's on my man's rack\n  Codeine was forced in your drink\n  You had a Navy green salamander fiend, bitches overheard you scream\n  You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n  Blowing like Shalamar in 81\n  Sound convincing, thousand dollar cord by convention\n  Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n  Hold the fuck up, I'll unfasten your wig, bad luck\n  I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n  It's me, black, Noble Drew Ali\n  Came in threes we like the Genovese, is that so\n  Caesar needs the greens, it's Earth\n  Ninety-three million miles from the first\n  Rough turbulence, the wave burst, split the megahertz\n\n  Ayy-yo that's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n  Connect thoughts to make my man child walk\n  Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n  New York Yank visor world tranquilizer\n  Just a dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n  While my pen blow lines ferocious\n  Mediterranean, see y'all, the number one draft pick\n  Tear down the beat God, then delegate the God to see God\n  The swift chancellor, flex the white gold tarantula\n  Track truck diesel, play the weed God substantiala\n  Max mostly, undivided then slide in sickening\n  Guaranteed made 'em jump like Rod Strickland\n"},{"id":35200352,"name":"Triumph","trackName":"Triumph","artistName":"Wu-Tang Clan","albumName":"Wu-Tang Clan Videos","duration":339.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\nAnd hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\nMockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\nFlee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\nBattle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\nTremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\nI inspect view through the future see millenium\nKilla Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\nShacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\nGraphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\nBlack Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\nRumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\nHeads by the score, take flight, incite a war\nChicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\nBehold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\nProceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\nStomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n\nWu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n\nAs the world turn, I spread like germs\nBless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\nIt's my testament to those burned\nPlay my position in the game of life standing firm\nOn foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\nTransform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\nIn a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\nIn the line of fire holdin' back, what?\nMy people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\nNiggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\nIt's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\nHerb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\nClot, we smoke pot and blow spots\nYou wanna think twice, I think not\n\nDa Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\nGuns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n\nI twist darts from the heart, tried and true\nLoot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\nCertified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\nTell your story walking\nTake cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\nRun for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\nSo I can squeeze with the advantage\nAnd get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\nCompared to mine\n\nDomino effect, arts and crafts\nParagraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n\nOn my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n\nFor all y'all to all praise to the Gods\nThe saga continues\n\nWu-Tang, Wu-Tang\nOlympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\nThe thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\nWe crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\nFor-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\nAllow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\nPocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\nTune spit the shit immortal combat sound\nThe fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\nA jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\nA death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n\nHold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\nMy orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\nMy music Sicily, rich California smell\nAn axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\nI sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n\nRighteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\nWatch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\nA thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\nPerpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n\nEscape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\nMy beats travel like a vortex\nUp your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\nMake you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\nEnter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\nLike Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n\nGetting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\nWar of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\nMany of the victims' families save they ashes\nA million names on walls, engraved in plaques\nThose who went back, received penalties for their acts\nAnother heart is torn, as close ones gone\n\nThose who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\nThe track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\nAnd leaks sounds that's heard\nNinety-three million miles away from came one\nTo represent the nation, this is a gathering\nOf the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n\nAs we engage in battle\nThe crowd now screams in rage\nThe High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\nLight is provided through sparks of energy\nFrom the mind that travels in rhyme form\nGiving sight to the blind\nThe dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\nDeath only one can save shell from\n\nThis relentless attack of the track spares none\nYo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\nLampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\nCodeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\nSalamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\nYou two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n\nBlowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\nSound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\nHands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\nHold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\nI humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\nIt's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\nWe like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\nIt's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\nRough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n\nAiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\nConnect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\nSwift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\nNew York gank adviser world tranquilizer\nJust the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\nWhile my pen blow lines ferocious\nMediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\nThen delegate the God to see God\nThe swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\nTrack truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\nMax mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\nGuaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland","syncedLyrics":"[00:22.36] I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\n[00:25.07] And hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\n[00:27.26] Mockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\n[00:29.51] Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n[00:32.77] Battle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n[00:35.42] Tremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\n[00:37.99] I inspect view through the future see millenium\n[00:40.44] Killa Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\n[00:43.32] Shacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\n[00:45.57] Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n[00:48.40] Black Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\n[00:50.90] Rumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\n[00:53.42] Heads by the score, take flight, incite a war\n[00:56.42] Chicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\n[00:58.42] Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n[01:01.51] Proceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\n[01:03.99] Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n[01:07.16] Wu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n[01:09.16] As the world turn, I spread like germs\n[01:11.55] Bless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\n[01:14.42] It's my testament to those burned\n[01:16.47] Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n[01:18.52] On foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\n[01:21.83] Transform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\n[01:25.05] In a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\n[01:27.04] In the line of fire holdin' back, what?\n[01:30.21] My people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\n[01:32.25] Niggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\n[01:34.69] It's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\n[01:37.73] Herb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\n[01:40.96] Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n[01:43.56] You wanna think twice, I think not\n[01:45.90] Da Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\n[01:48.22] Guns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n[01:51.86] I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n[01:54.47] Loot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\n[01:57.46] Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n[02:00.37] Tell your story walking\n[02:02.20] Take cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\n[02:05.17] Run for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\n[02:07.64] So I can squeeze with the advantage\n[02:10.01] And get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\n[02:13.27] Compared to mine\n[02:14.76] Domino effect, arts and crafts\n[02:17.32] Paragraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n[02:20.10] On my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n[02:22.86] For all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n[02:26.81] The saga continues\n[02:28.38] Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n[02:30.61] Olympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\n[02:33.17] The thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\n[02:35.38] We crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\n[02:37.99] For-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\n[02:40.38] Allow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\n[02:43.20] Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n[02:46.23] Tune spit the shit immortal combat sound\n[02:48.51] The fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\n[02:51.31] A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n[02:54.08] A death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n[02:56.40] Hold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\n[02:58.46] My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n[03:02.06] My music Sicily, rich California smell\n[03:04.46] An axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\n[03:06.95] I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n[03:09.38] Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\n[03:11.92] Watch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\n[03:14.72] A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n[03:17.14] Perpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n[03:19.99] Escape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\n[03:22.43] My beats travel like a vortex\n[03:24.20] Up your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\n[03:27.12] Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n[03:29.43] Enter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\n[03:32.69] Like Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n[03:35.47] Getting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\n[03:38.55] War of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\n[03:41.29] Many of the victims' families save they ashes\n[03:43.93] A million names on walls, engraved in plaques\n[03:46.47] Those who went back, received penalties for their acts\n[03:48.97] Another heart is torn, as close ones gone\n[03:51.85] Those who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\n[03:54.24] The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n[03:57.55] And leaks sounds that's heard\n[03:59.84] Ninety-three million miles away from came one\n[04:02.40] To represent the nation, this is a gathering\n[04:04.76] Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n[04:08.48] As we engage in battle\n[04:10.82] The crowd now screams in rage\n[04:12.29] The High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\n[04:14.96] Light is provided through sparks of energy\n[04:17.51] From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n[04:20.24] Giving sight to the blind\n[04:21.62] The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n[04:24.08] Death only one can save shell from\n[04:26.50] This relentless attack of the track spares none\n[04:29.30] Yo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\n[04:33.30] Lampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\n[04:35.92] Codeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\n[04:38.84] Salamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\n[04:41.19] You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n[04:43.96] Blowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\n[04:46.65] Sound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\n[04:49.40] Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n[04:52.20] Hold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\n[04:54.03] I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n[04:56.79] It's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\n[04:59.75] We like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\n[05:02.42] It's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\n[05:05.21] Rough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n[05:07.63] Aiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n[05:11.50] Connect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\n[05:13.07] Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n[05:15.66] New York gank adviser world tranquilizer\n[05:18.25] Just the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n[05:20.62] While my pen blow lines ferocious\n[05:23.55] Mediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\n[05:26.00] Then delegate the God to see God\n[05:29.08] The swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\n[05:31.27] Track truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\n[05:34.18] Max mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\n[05:37.24] Guaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland\n[05:38.59] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Triumph\n  artist: Wu-Tang Clan\n  album: Wu-Tang Clan Videos\n  duration_ms: 339000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\n  start_ms: 22360\n  end_ms: 25070\n- text: And hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\n  start_ms: 25070\n  end_ms: 27260\n- text: Mockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\n  start_ms: 27260\n  end_ms: 29510\n- text: Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n  start_ms: 29510\n  end_ms: 32770\n- text: Battle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n  start_ms: 32770\n  end_ms: 35420\n- text: Tremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\n  start_ms: 35420\n  end_ms: 37990\n- text: I inspect view through the future see millenium\n  start_ms: 37990\n  end_ms: 40440\n- text: Killa Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\n  start_ms: 40440\n  end_ms: 43320\n- text: Shacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\n  start_ms: 43320\n  end_ms: 45570\n- text: Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n  start_ms: 45570\n  end_ms: 48400\n- text: Black Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\n  start_ms: 48400\n  end_ms: 50900\n- text: Rumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\n  start_ms: 50900\n  end_ms: 53420\n- text: Heads by the score, take flight, incite a war\n  start_ms: 53420\n  end_ms: 56420\n- text: Chicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\n  start_ms: 56420\n  end_ms: 58420\n- text: Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n  start_ms: 58420\n  end_ms: 61510\n- text: Proceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\n  start_ms: 61510\n  end_ms: 63990\n- text: Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n  start_ms: 63990\n  end_ms: 67160\n- text: Wu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n  start_ms: 67160\n  end_ms: 69160\n- text: As the world turn, I spread like germs\n  start_ms: 69160\n  end_ms: 71550\n- text: Bless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\n  start_ms: 71550\n  end_ms: 74420\n- text: It's my testament to those burned\n  start_ms: 74420\n  end_ms: 76470\n- text: Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n  start_ms: 76470\n  end_ms: 78520\n- text: On foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\n  start_ms: 78520\n  end_ms: 81830\n- text: Transform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\n  start_ms: 81830\n  end_ms: 85050\n- text: In a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\n  start_ms: 85050\n  end_ms: 87040\n- text: In the line of fire holdin' back, what?\n  start_ms: 87040\n  end_ms: 90210\n- text: My people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\n  start_ms: 90210\n  end_ms: 92250\n- text: Niggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\n  start_ms: 92250\n  end_ms: 94690\n- text: It's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\n  start_ms: 94690\n  end_ms: 97730\n- text: Herb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\n  start_ms: 97730\n  end_ms: 100960\n- text: Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n  start_ms: 100960\n  end_ms: 103560\n- text: You wanna think twice, I think not\n  start_ms: 103560\n  end_ms: 105900\n- text: Da Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\n  start_ms: 105900\n  end_ms: 108220\n- text: Guns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n  start_ms: 108220\n  end_ms: 111860\n- text: I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n  start_ms: 111860\n  end_ms: 114470\n- text: Loot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\n  start_ms: 114470\n  end_ms: 117460\n- text: Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n  start_ms: 117460\n  end_ms: 120370\n- text: Tell your story walking\n  start_ms: 120370\n  end_ms: 122200\n- text: Take cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\n  start_ms: 122200\n  end_ms: 125170\n- text: Run for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\n  start_ms: 125170\n  end_ms: 127640\n- text: So I can squeeze with the advantage\n  start_ms: 127640\n  end_ms: 130010\n- text: And get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\n  start_ms: 130010\n  end_ms: 133270\n- text: Compared to mine\n  start_ms: 133270\n  end_ms: 134760\n- text: Domino effect, arts and crafts\n  start_ms: 134760\n  end_ms: 137320\n- text: Paragraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n  start_ms: 137320\n  end_ms: 140100\n- text: On my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n  start_ms: 140100\n  end_ms: 142860\n- text: For all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n  start_ms: 142860\n  end_ms: 146810\n- text: The saga continues\n  start_ms: 146810\n  end_ms: 148380\n- text: Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n  start_ms: 148380\n  end_ms: 150610\n- text: Olympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\n  start_ms: 150610\n  end_ms: 153170\n- text: The thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\n  start_ms: 153170\n  end_ms: 155380\n- text: We crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\n  start_ms: 155380\n  end_ms: 157990\n- text: For-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\n  start_ms: 157990\n  end_ms: 160380\n- text: Allow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\n  start_ms: 160380\n  end_ms: 163200\n- text: Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n  start_ms: 163200\n  end_ms: 166230\n- text: Tune spit the shit immortal combat sound\n  start_ms: 166230\n  end_ms: 168510\n- text: The fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\n  start_ms: 168510\n  end_ms: 171310\n- text: A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n  start_ms: 171310\n  end_ms: 174080\n- text: A death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n  start_ms: 174080\n  end_ms: 176400\n- text: Hold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\n  start_ms: 176400\n  end_ms: 178460\n- text: My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n  start_ms: 178460\n  end_ms: 182060\n- text: My music Sicily, rich California smell\n  start_ms: 182060\n  end_ms: 184460\n- text: An axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\n  start_ms: 184460\n  end_ms: 186950\n- text: I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n  start_ms: 186950\n  end_ms: 189380\n- text: Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\n  start_ms: 189380\n  end_ms: 191920\n- text: Watch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\n  start_ms: 191920\n  end_ms: 194720\n- text: A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n  start_ms: 194720\n  end_ms: 197140\n- text: Perpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n  start_ms: 197140\n  end_ms: 199990\n- text: Escape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\n  start_ms: 199990\n  end_ms: 202430\n- text: My beats travel like a vortex\n  start_ms: 202430\n  end_ms: 204200\n- text: Up your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\n  start_ms: 204200\n  end_ms: 207120\n- text: Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n  start_ms: 207120\n  end_ms: 209430\n- text: Enter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\n  start_ms: 209430\n  end_ms: 212690\n- text: Like Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n  start_ms: 212690\n  end_ms: 215470\n- text: Getting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\n  start_ms: 215470\n  end_ms: 218550\n- text: War of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\n  start_ms: 218550\n  end_ms: 221290\n- text: Many of the victims' families save they ashes\n  start_ms: 221290\n  end_ms: 223930\n- text: A million names on walls, engraved in plaques\n  start_ms: 223930\n  end_ms: 226470\n- text: Those who went back, received penalties for their acts\n  start_ms: 226470\n  end_ms: 228970\n- text: Another heart is torn, as close ones gone\n  start_ms: 228970\n  end_ms: 231850\n- text: Those who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\n  start_ms: 231850\n  end_ms: 234240\n- text: The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n  start_ms: 234240\n  end_ms: 237550\n- text: And leaks sounds that's heard\n  start_ms: 237550\n  end_ms: 239840\n- text: Ninety-three million miles away from came one\n  start_ms: 239840\n  end_ms: 242400\n- text: To represent the nation, this is a gathering\n  start_ms: 242400\n  end_ms: 244760\n- text: Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n  start_ms: 244760\n  end_ms: 248480\n- text: As we engage in battle\n  start_ms: 248480\n  end_ms: 250820\n- text: The crowd now screams in rage\n  start_ms: 250820\n  end_ms: 252290\n- text: The High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\n  start_ms: 252290\n  end_ms: 254960\n- text: Light is provided through sparks of energy\n  start_ms: 254960\n  end_ms: 257510\n- text: From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n  start_ms: 257510\n  end_ms: 260240\n- text: Giving sight to the blind\n  start_ms: 260240\n  end_ms: 261620\n- text: The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n  start_ms: 261620\n  end_ms: 264080\n- text: Death only one can save shell from\n  start_ms: 264080\n  end_ms: 266500\n- text: This relentless attack of the track spares none\n  start_ms: 266500\n  end_ms: 269300\n- text: Yo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\n  start_ms: 269300\n  end_ms: 273300\n- text: Lampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\n  start_ms: 273300\n  end_ms: 275920\n- text: Codeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\n  start_ms: 275920\n  end_ms: 278840\n- text: Salamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\n  start_ms: 278840\n  end_ms: 281190\n- text: You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n  start_ms: 281190\n  end_ms: 283960\n- text: Blowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\n  start_ms: 283960\n  end_ms: 286650\n- text: Sound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\n  start_ms: 286650\n  end_ms: 289400\n- text: Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n  start_ms: 289400\n  end_ms: 292200\n- text: Hold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\n  start_ms: 292200\n  end_ms: 294030\n- text: I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n  start_ms: 294030\n  end_ms: 296790\n- text: It's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\n  start_ms: 296790\n  end_ms: 299750\n- text: We like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\n  start_ms: 299750\n  end_ms: 302420\n- text: It's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\n  start_ms: 302420\n  end_ms: 305210\n- text: Rough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n  start_ms: 305210\n  end_ms: 307630\n- text: Aiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n  start_ms: 307630\n  end_ms: 311500\n- text: Connect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\n  start_ms: 311500\n  end_ms: 313070\n- text: Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n  start_ms: 313070\n  end_ms: 315660\n- text: New York gank adviser world tranquilizer\n  start_ms: 315660\n  end_ms: 318250\n- text: Just the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n  start_ms: 318250\n  end_ms: 320620\n- text: While my pen blow lines ferocious\n  start_ms: 320620\n  end_ms: 323550\n- text: Mediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\n  start_ms: 323550\n  end_ms: 326000\n- text: Then delegate the God to see God\n  start_ms: 326000\n  end_ms: 329080\n- text: The swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\n  start_ms: 329080\n  end_ms: 331270\n- text: Track truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\n  start_ms: 331270\n  end_ms: 334180\n- text: Max mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\n  start_ms: 334180\n  end_ms: 337240\n- text: Guaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland\n  start_ms: 337240\n  end_ms: 338590\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 338590\nplain: |-\n  I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\n  And hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\n  Mockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\n  Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n  Battle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n  Tremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\n  I inspect view through the future see millenium\n  Killa Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\n  Shacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\n  Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n  Black Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\n  Rumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\n  Heads by the score, take flight, incite a war\n  Chicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\n  Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n  Proceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\n  Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n\n  Wu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n\n  As the world turn, I spread like germs\n  Bless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\n  It's my testament to those burned\n  Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n  On foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\n  Transform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\n  In a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\n  In the line of fire holdin' back, what?\n  My people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\n  Niggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\n  It's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\n  Herb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\n  Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n  You wanna think twice, I think not\n\n  Da Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\n  Guns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n\n  I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n  Loot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\n  Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n  Tell your story walking\n  Take cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\n  Run for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\n  So I can squeeze with the advantage\n  And get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\n  Compared to mine\n\n  Domino effect, arts and crafts\n  Paragraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n\n  On my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n\n  For all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n  The saga continues\n\n  Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n  Olympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\n  The thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\n  We crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\n  For-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\n  Allow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\n  Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n  Tune spit the shit immortal combat sound\n  The fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\n  A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n  A death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n\n  Hold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\n  My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n  My music Sicily, rich California smell\n  An axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\n  I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n\n  Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\n  Watch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\n  A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n  Perpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n\n  Escape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\n  My beats travel like a vortex\n  Up your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\n  Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n  Enter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\n  Like Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n\n  Getting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\n  War of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\n  Many of the victims' families save they ashes\n  A million names on walls, engraved in plaques\n  Those who went back, received penalties for their acts\n  Another heart is torn, as close ones gone\n\n  Those who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\n  The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n  And leaks sounds that's heard\n  Ninety-three million miles away from came one\n  To represent the nation, this is a gathering\n  Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n\n  As we engage in battle\n  The crowd now screams in rage\n  The High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\n  Light is provided through sparks of energy\n  From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n  Giving sight to the blind\n  The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n  Death only one can save shell from\n\n  This relentless attack of the track spares none\n  Yo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\n  Lampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\n  Codeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\n  Salamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\n  You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n\n  Blowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\n  Sound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\n  Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n  Hold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\n  I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n  It's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\n  We like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\n  It's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\n  Rough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n\n  Aiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n  Connect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\n  Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n  New York gank adviser world tranquilizer\n  Just the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n  While my pen blow lines ferocious\n  Mediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\n  Then delegate the God to see God\n  The swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\n  Track truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\n  Max mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\n  Guaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland\n"},{"id":18218851,"name":"Triumph","trackName":"Triumph","artistName":"Wu-Tang Clan","albumName":"Wu-Tang Clan - Wu-Tang Forever Disc 2","duration":338.058625,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\nAnd hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\nMockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\nFlee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\nBattle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\nTremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\nI inspect view through the future see millenium\nKilla Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\nShacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\nGraphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\nBlack Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\nRumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\nHeads by the score, take flight, incite a war\nChicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\nBehold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\nProceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\nStomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n\nWu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n\nAs the world turn, I spread like germs\nBless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\nIt's my testament to those burned\nPlay my position in the game of life standing firm\nOn foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\nTransform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\nIn a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\nIn the line of fire holdin' back, what?\nMy people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\nNiggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\nIt's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\nHerb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\nClot, we smoke pot and blow spots\nYou wanna think twice, I think not\n\nDa Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\nGuns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n\nI twist darts from the heart, tried and true\nLoot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\nCertified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\nTell your story walking\nTake cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\nRun for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\nSo I can squeeze with the advantage\nAnd get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\nCompared to mine\n\nDomino effect, arts and crafts\nParagraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n\nOn my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n\nFor all y'all to all praise to the Gods\nThe saga continues\n\nWu-Tang, Wu-Tang\nOlympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\nThe thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\nWe crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\nFor-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\nAllow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\nPocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\nTune spit the shit immortal combat sound\nThe fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\nA jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\nA death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n\nHold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\nMy orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\nMy music Sicily, rich California smell\nAn axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\nI sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n\nRighteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\nWatch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\nA thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\nPerpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n\nEscape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\nMy beats travel like a vortex\nUp your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\nMake you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\nEnter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\nLike Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n\nGetting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\nWar of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\nMany of the victims' families save they ashes\nA million names on walls, engraved in plaques\nThose who went back, received penalties for their acts\nAnother heart is torn, as close ones gone\n\nThose who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\nThe track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\nAnd leaks sounds that's heard\nNinety-three million miles away from came one\nTo represent the nation, this is a gathering\nOf the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n\nAs we engage in battle\nThe crowd now screams in rage\nThe High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\nLight is provided through sparks of energy\nFrom the mind that travels in rhyme form\nGiving sight to the blind\nThe dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\nDeath only one can save shell from\n\nThis relentless attack of the track spares none\nYo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\nLampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\nCodeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\nSalamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\nYou two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n\nBlowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\nSound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\nHands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\nHold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\nI humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\nIt's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\nWe like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\nIt's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\nRough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n\nAiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\nConnect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\nSwift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\nNew York gank adviser world tranquilizer\nJust the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\nWhile my pen blow lines ferocious\nMediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\nThen delegate the God to see God\nThe swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\nTrack truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\nMax mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\nGuaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland","syncedLyrics":"[00:22.36] I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\n[00:25.02] And hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\n[00:27.29] Mockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\n[00:29.57] Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n[00:32.79] Battle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n[00:35.41] Tremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\n[00:37.91] I inspect view through the future see millenium\n[00:40.43] Killa Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\n[00:43.39] Shacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\n[00:45.56] Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n[00:48.33] Black Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\n[00:50.93] Rumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\n[00:53.46] Heads by the score, take flight, incite a war\n[00:56.40] Chicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\n[00:58.41] Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n[01:01.55] Proceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\n[01:03.91] Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n[01:07.14] Wu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n[01:09.12] As the world turn, I spread like germs\n[01:11.58] Bless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\n[01:14.42] It's my testament to those burned\n[01:16.43] Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n[01:18.53] On foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\n[01:21.84] Transform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\n[01:25.02] In a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\n[01:27.04] In the line of fire holdin' back, what?\n[01:30.28] My people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\n[01:32.20] Niggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\n[01:34.69] It's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\n[01:37.78] Herb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\n[01:40.95] Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n[01:43.55] You wanna think twice, I think not\n[01:45.90] Da Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\n[01:48.25] Guns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n[01:51.81] I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n[01:54.49] Loot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\n[01:57.46] Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n[02:00.33] Tell your story walking\n[02:02.22] Take cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\n[02:05.14] Run for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\n[02:07.69] So I can squeeze with the advantage\n[02:10.05] And get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\n[02:13.28] Compared to mine\n[02:14.75] Domino effect, arts and crafts\n[02:17.34] Paragraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n[02:20.19] On my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n[02:22.90] For all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n[02:26.85] The saga continues\n[02:28.35] Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n[02:30.61] Olympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\n[02:33.14] The thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\n[02:35.36] We crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\n[02:37.96] For-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\n[02:40.36] Allow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\n[02:43.20] Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n[02:46.26] Tune spit the shit immortal combat sound\n[02:48.50] The fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\n[02:51.39] A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n[02:54.06] A death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n[02:56.48] Hold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\n[02:58.47] My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n[03:02.03] My music Sicily, rich California smell\n[03:04.43] An axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\n[03:06.97] I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n[03:09.36] Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\n[03:11.94] Watch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\n[03:14.76] A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n[03:17.12] Perpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n[03:19.97] Escape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\n[03:22.48] My beats travel like a vortex\n[03:24.26] Up your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\n[03:27.15] Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n[03:29.43] Enter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\n[03:32.65] Like Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n[03:35.40] Getting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\n[03:38.58] War of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\n[03:41.24] Many of the victims' families save they ashes\n[03:43.99] A million names on walls, engraved in plaques\n[03:46.43] Those who went back, received penalties for their acts\n[03:48.99] Another heart is torn, as close ones gone\n[03:51.81] Those who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\n[03:54.26] The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n[03:57.55] And leaks sounds that's heard\n[03:59.87] Ninety-three million miles away from came one\n[04:02.42] To represent the nation, this is a gathering\n[04:04.75] Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n[04:08.44] As we engage in battle\n[04:10.83] The crowd now screams in rage\n[04:12.25] The High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\n[04:14.91] Light is provided through sparks of energy\n[04:17.50] From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n[04:20.22] Giving sight to the blind\n[04:21.63] The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n[04:24.04] Death only one can save shell from\n[04:26.50] This relentless attack of the track spares none\n[04:29.29] Yo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\n[04:33.28] Lampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\n[04:35.95] Codeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\n[04:38.81] Salamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\n[04:41.14] You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n[04:43.95] Blowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\n[04:46.67] Sound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\n[04:49.49] Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n[04:52.19] Hold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\n[04:54.01] I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n[04:56.80] It's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\n[04:59.76] We like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\n[05:02.44] It's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\n[05:05.29] Rough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n[05:07.70] Aiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n[05:11.44] Connect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\n[05:13.00] Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n[05:15.67] New York gank adviser world tranquilizer\n[05:18.30] Just the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n[05:20.68] While my pen blow lines ferocious\n[05:23.59] Mediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\n[05:26.04] Then delegate the God to see God\n[05:29.00] The swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\n[05:31.22] Track truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\n[05:34.19] Max mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\n[05:37.21] Guaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland\n[05:38.53] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Triumph\n  artist: Wu-Tang Clan\n  album: Wu-Tang Clan - Wu-Tang Forever Disc 2\n  duration_ms: 338059\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\n  start_ms: 22360\n  end_ms: 25020\n- text: And hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\n  start_ms: 25020\n  end_ms: 27290\n- text: Mockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\n  start_ms: 27290\n  end_ms: 29570\n- text: Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n  start_ms: 29570\n  end_ms: 32790\n- text: Battle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n  start_ms: 32790\n  end_ms: 35410\n- text: Tremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\n  start_ms: 35410\n  end_ms: 37910\n- text: I inspect view through the future see millenium\n  start_ms: 37910\n  end_ms: 40430\n- text: Killa Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\n  start_ms: 40430\n  end_ms: 43390\n- text: Shacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\n  start_ms: 43390\n  end_ms: 45560\n- text: Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n  start_ms: 45560\n  end_ms: 48330\n- text: Black Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\n  start_ms: 48330\n  end_ms: 50930\n- text: Rumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\n  start_ms: 50930\n  end_ms: 53460\n- text: Heads by the score, take flight, incite a war\n  start_ms: 53460\n  end_ms: 56400\n- text: Chicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\n  start_ms: 56400\n  end_ms: 58410\n- text: Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n  start_ms: 58410\n  end_ms: 61550\n- text: Proceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\n  start_ms: 61550\n  end_ms: 63910\n- text: Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n  start_ms: 63910\n  end_ms: 67140\n- text: Wu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n  start_ms: 67140\n  end_ms: 69120\n- text: As the world turn, I spread like germs\n  start_ms: 69120\n  end_ms: 71580\n- text: Bless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\n  start_ms: 71580\n  end_ms: 74420\n- text: It's my testament to those burned\n  start_ms: 74420\n  end_ms: 76430\n- text: Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n  start_ms: 76430\n  end_ms: 78530\n- text: On foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\n  start_ms: 78530\n  end_ms: 81840\n- text: Transform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\n  start_ms: 81840\n  end_ms: 85020\n- text: In a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\n  start_ms: 85020\n  end_ms: 87040\n- text: In the line of fire holdin' back, what?\n  start_ms: 87040\n  end_ms: 90280\n- text: My people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\n  start_ms: 90280\n  end_ms: 92200\n- text: Niggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\n  start_ms: 92200\n  end_ms: 94690\n- text: It's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\n  start_ms: 94690\n  end_ms: 97780\n- text: Herb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\n  start_ms: 97780\n  end_ms: 100950\n- text: Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n  start_ms: 100950\n  end_ms: 103550\n- text: You wanna think twice, I think not\n  start_ms: 103550\n  end_ms: 105900\n- text: Da Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\n  start_ms: 105900\n  end_ms: 108250\n- text: Guns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n  start_ms: 108250\n  end_ms: 111810\n- text: I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n  start_ms: 111810\n  end_ms: 114490\n- text: Loot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\n  start_ms: 114490\n  end_ms: 117460\n- text: Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n  start_ms: 117460\n  end_ms: 120330\n- text: Tell your story walking\n  start_ms: 120330\n  end_ms: 122220\n- text: Take cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\n  start_ms: 122220\n  end_ms: 125140\n- text: Run for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\n  start_ms: 125140\n  end_ms: 127690\n- text: So I can squeeze with the advantage\n  start_ms: 127690\n  end_ms: 130050\n- text: And get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\n  start_ms: 130050\n  end_ms: 133280\n- text: Compared to mine\n  start_ms: 133280\n  end_ms: 134750\n- text: Domino effect, arts and crafts\n  start_ms: 134750\n  end_ms: 137340\n- text: Paragraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n  start_ms: 137340\n  end_ms: 140190\n- text: On my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n  start_ms: 140190\n  end_ms: 142900\n- text: For all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n  start_ms: 142900\n  end_ms: 146850\n- text: The saga continues\n  start_ms: 146850\n  end_ms: 148350\n- text: Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n  start_ms: 148350\n  end_ms: 150610\n- text: Olympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\n  start_ms: 150610\n  end_ms: 153140\n- text: The thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\n  start_ms: 153140\n  end_ms: 155360\n- text: We crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\n  start_ms: 155360\n  end_ms: 157960\n- text: For-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\n  start_ms: 157960\n  end_ms: 160360\n- text: Allow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\n  start_ms: 160360\n  end_ms: 163200\n- text: Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n  start_ms: 163200\n  end_ms: 166260\n- text: Tune spit the shit immortal combat sound\n  start_ms: 166260\n  end_ms: 168500\n- text: The fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\n  start_ms: 168500\n  end_ms: 171390\n- text: A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n  start_ms: 171390\n  end_ms: 174060\n- text: A death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n  start_ms: 174060\n  end_ms: 176480\n- text: Hold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\n  start_ms: 176480\n  end_ms: 178470\n- text: My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n  start_ms: 178470\n  end_ms: 182030\n- text: My music Sicily, rich California smell\n  start_ms: 182030\n  end_ms: 184430\n- text: An axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\n  start_ms: 184430\n  end_ms: 186970\n- text: I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n  start_ms: 186970\n  end_ms: 189360\n- text: Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\n  start_ms: 189360\n  end_ms: 191940\n- text: Watch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\n  start_ms: 191940\n  end_ms: 194760\n- text: A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n  start_ms: 194760\n  end_ms: 197120\n- text: Perpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n  start_ms: 197120\n  end_ms: 199970\n- text: Escape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\n  start_ms: 199970\n  end_ms: 202480\n- text: My beats travel like a vortex\n  start_ms: 202480\n  end_ms: 204260\n- text: Up your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\n  start_ms: 204260\n  end_ms: 207150\n- text: Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n  start_ms: 207150\n  end_ms: 209430\n- text: Enter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\n  start_ms: 209430\n  end_ms: 212650\n- text: Like Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n  start_ms: 212650\n  end_ms: 215400\n- text: Getting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\n  start_ms: 215400\n  end_ms: 218580\n- text: War of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\n  start_ms: 218580\n  end_ms: 221240\n- text: Many of the victims' families save they ashes\n  start_ms: 221240\n  end_ms: 223990\n- text: A million names on walls, engraved in plaques\n  start_ms: 223990\n  end_ms: 226430\n- text: Those who went back, received penalties for their acts\n  start_ms: 226430\n  end_ms: 228990\n- text: Another heart is torn, as close ones gone\n  start_ms: 228990\n  end_ms: 231810\n- text: Those who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\n  start_ms: 231810\n  end_ms: 234260\n- text: The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n  start_ms: 234260\n  end_ms: 237550\n- text: And leaks sounds that's heard\n  start_ms: 237550\n  end_ms: 239870\n- text: Ninety-three million miles away from came one\n  start_ms: 239870\n  end_ms: 242420\n- text: To represent the nation, this is a gathering\n  start_ms: 242420\n  end_ms: 244750\n- text: Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n  start_ms: 244750\n  end_ms: 248440\n- text: As we engage in battle\n  start_ms: 248440\n  end_ms: 250830\n- text: The crowd now screams in rage\n  start_ms: 250830\n  end_ms: 252250\n- text: The High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\n  start_ms: 252250\n  end_ms: 254910\n- text: Light is provided through sparks of energy\n  start_ms: 254910\n  end_ms: 257500\n- text: From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n  start_ms: 257500\n  end_ms: 260220\n- text: Giving sight to the blind\n  start_ms: 260220\n  end_ms: 261630\n- text: The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n  start_ms: 261630\n  end_ms: 264040\n- text: Death only one can save shell from\n  start_ms: 264040\n  end_ms: 266500\n- text: This relentless attack of the track spares none\n  start_ms: 266500\n  end_ms: 269290\n- text: Yo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\n  start_ms: 269290\n  end_ms: 273280\n- text: Lampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\n  start_ms: 273280\n  end_ms: 275950\n- text: Codeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\n  start_ms: 275950\n  end_ms: 278810\n- text: Salamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\n  start_ms: 278810\n  end_ms: 281140\n- text: You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n  start_ms: 281140\n  end_ms: 283950\n- text: Blowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\n  start_ms: 283950\n  end_ms: 286670\n- text: Sound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\n  start_ms: 286670\n  end_ms: 289490\n- text: Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n  start_ms: 289490\n  end_ms: 292190\n- text: Hold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\n  start_ms: 292190\n  end_ms: 294010\n- text: I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n  start_ms: 294010\n  end_ms: 296800\n- text: It's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\n  start_ms: 296800\n  end_ms: 299760\n- text: We like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\n  start_ms: 299760\n  end_ms: 302440\n- text: It's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\n  start_ms: 302440\n  end_ms: 305290\n- text: Rough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n  start_ms: 305290\n  end_ms: 307700\n- text: Aiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n  start_ms: 307700\n  end_ms: 311440\n- text: Connect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\n  start_ms: 311440\n  end_ms: 313000\n- text: Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n  start_ms: 313000\n  end_ms: 315670\n- text: New York gank adviser world tranquilizer\n  start_ms: 315670\n  end_ms: 318300\n- text: Just the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n  start_ms: 318300\n  end_ms: 320680\n- text: While my pen blow lines ferocious\n  start_ms: 320680\n  end_ms: 323590\n- text: Mediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\n  start_ms: 323590\n  end_ms: 326040\n- text: Then delegate the God to see God\n  start_ms: 326040\n  end_ms: 329000\n- text: The swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\n  start_ms: 329000\n  end_ms: 331220\n- text: Track truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\n  start_ms: 331220\n  end_ms: 334190\n- text: Max mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\n  start_ms: 334190\n  end_ms: 337210\n- text: Guaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland\n  start_ms: 337210\n  end_ms: 338530\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 338530\nplain: |-\n  I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\n  And hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\n  Mockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\n  Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n  Battle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n  Tremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\n  I inspect view through the future see millenium\n  Killa Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\n  Shacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\n  Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n  Black Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\n  Rumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\n  Heads by the score, take flight, incite a war\n  Chicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\n  Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n  Proceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\n  Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n\n  Wu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n\n  As the world turn, I spread like germs\n  Bless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\n  It's my testament to those burned\n  Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n  On foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\n  Transform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\n  In a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\n  In the line of fire holdin' back, what?\n  My people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\n  Niggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\n  It's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\n  Herb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\n  Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n  You wanna think twice, I think not\n\n  Da Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\n  Guns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n\n  I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n  Loot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\n  Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n  Tell your story walking\n  Take cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\n  Run for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\n  So I can squeeze with the advantage\n  And get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\n  Compared to mine\n\n  Domino effect, arts and crafts\n  Paragraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n\n  On my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n\n  For all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n  The saga continues\n\n  Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n  Olympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\n  The thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\n  We crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\n  For-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\n  Allow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\n  Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n  Tune spit the shit immortal combat sound\n  The fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\n  A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n  A death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n\n  Hold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\n  My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n  My music Sicily, rich California smell\n  An axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\n  I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n\n  Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\n  Watch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\n  A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n  Perpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n\n  Escape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\n  My beats travel like a vortex\n  Up your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\n  Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n  Enter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\n  Like Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n\n  Getting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\n  War of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\n  Many of the victims' families save they ashes\n  A million names on walls, engraved in plaques\n  Those who went back, received penalties for their acts\n  Another heart is torn, as close ones gone\n\n  Those who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\n  The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n  And leaks sounds that's heard\n  Ninety-three million miles away from came one\n  To represent the nation, this is a gathering\n  Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n\n  As we engage in battle\n  The crowd now screams in rage\n  The High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\n  Light is provided through sparks of energy\n  From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n  Giving sight to the blind\n  The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n  Death only one can save shell from\n\n  This relentless attack of the track spares none\n  Yo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\n  Lampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\n  Codeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\n  Salamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\n  You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n\n  Blowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\n  Sound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\n  Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n  Hold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\n  I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n  It's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\n  We like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\n  It's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\n  Rough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n\n  Aiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n  Connect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\n  Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n  New York gank adviser world tranquilizer\n  Just the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n  While my pen blow lines ferocious\n  Mediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\n  Then delegate the God to see God\n  The swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\n  Track truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\n  Max mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\n  Guaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland\n"},{"id":4106646,"name":"Triumph","trackName":"Triumph","artistName":"Wu-Tang Clan","albumName":"The Essential Wu-Tang Clan","duration":340.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\nAnd hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\nMockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\nFlee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\nBattle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\nTremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\nI inspect view through the future see millenium\nKilla Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\nShacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\nGraphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\nBlack Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\nRumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\nHeads by the score, take flight, incite a war\nChicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\nBehold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\nProceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\nStomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n\nWu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n\nAs the world turn, I spread like germs\nBless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\nIt's my testament to those burned\nPlay my position in the game of life standing firm\nOn foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\nTransform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\nIn a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\nIn the line of fire holdin' back, what?\nMy people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\nNiggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\nIt's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\nHerb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\nClot, we smoke pot and blow spots\nYou wanna think twice, I think not\n\nDa Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\nGuns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n\nI twist darts from the heart, tried and true\nLoot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\nCertified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\nTell your story walking\nTake cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\nRun for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\nSo I can squeeze with the advantage\nAnd get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\nCompared to mine\n\nDomino effect, arts and crafts\nParagraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n\nOn my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n\nFor all y'all to all praise to the Gods\nThe saga continues\n\nWu-Tang, Wu-Tang\nOlympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\nThe thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\nWe crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\nFor-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\nAllow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\nPocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\nTune spit the shit immortal combat sound\nThe fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\nA jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\nA death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n\nHold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\nMy orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\nMy music Sicily, rich California smell\nAn axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\nI sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n\nRighteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\nWatch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\nA thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\nPerpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n\nEscape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\nMy beats travel like a vortex\nUp your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\nMake you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\nEnter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\nLike Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n\nGetting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\nWar of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\nMany of the victims' families save they ashes\nA million names on walls, engraved in plaques\nThose who went back, received penalties for their acts\nAnother heart is torn, as close ones gone\n\nThose who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\nThe track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\nAnd leaks sounds that's heard\nNinety-three million miles away from came one\nTo represent the nation, this is a gathering\nOf the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n\nAs we engage in battle\nThe crowd now screams in rage\nThe High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\nLight is provided through sparks of energy\nFrom the mind that travels in rhyme form\nGiving sight to the blind\nThe dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\nDeath only one can save shell from\n\nThis relentless attack of the track spares none\nYo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\nLampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\nCodeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\nSalamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\nYou two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n\nBlowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\nSound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\nHands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\nHold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\nI humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\nIt's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\nWe like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\nIt's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\nRough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n\nAiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\nConnect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\nSwift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\nNew York gank adviser world tranquilizer\nJust the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\nWhile my pen blow lines ferocious\nMediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\nThen delegate the God to see God\nThe swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\nTrack truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\nMax mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\nGuaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Triumph\n  artist: Wu-Tang Clan\n  album: The Essential Wu-Tang Clan\n  duration_ms: 340000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\n  And hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\n  Mockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\n  Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n  Battle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n  Tremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\n  I inspect view through the future see millenium\n  Killa Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\n  Shacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\n  Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n  Black Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\n  Rumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\n  Heads by the score, take flight, incite a war\n  Chicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\n  Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n  Proceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\n  Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n\n  Wu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n\n  As the world turn, I spread like germs\n  Bless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\n  It's my testament to those burned\n  Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n  On foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\n  Transform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\n  In a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\n  In the line of fire holdin' back, what?\n  My people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\n  Niggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\n  It's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\n  Herb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\n  Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n  You wanna think twice, I think not\n\n  Da Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\n  Guns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n\n  I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n  Loot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\n  Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n  Tell your story walking\n  Take cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\n  Run for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\n  So I can squeeze with the advantage\n  And get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\n  Compared to mine\n\n  Domino effect, arts and crafts\n  Paragraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n\n  On my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n\n  For all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n  The saga continues\n\n  Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n  Olympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\n  The thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\n  We crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\n  For-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\n  Allow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\n  Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n  Tune spit the shit immortal combat sound\n  The fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\n  A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n  A death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n\n  Hold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\n  My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n  My music Sicily, rich California smell\n  An axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\n  I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n\n  Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\n  Watch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\n  A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n  Perpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n\n  Escape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\n  My beats travel like a vortex\n  Up your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\n  Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n  Enter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\n  Like Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n\n  Getting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\n  War of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\n  Many of the victims' families save they ashes\n  A million names on walls, engraved in plaques\n  Those who went back, received penalties for their acts\n  Another heart is torn, as close ones gone\n\n  Those who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\n  The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n  And leaks sounds that's heard\n  Ninety-three million miles away from came one\n  To represent the nation, this is a gathering\n  Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n\n  As we engage in battle\n  The crowd now screams in rage\n  The High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\n  Light is provided through sparks of energy\n  From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n  Giving sight to the blind\n  The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n  Death only one can save shell from\n\n  This relentless attack of the track spares none\n  Yo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\n  Lampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\n  Codeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\n  Salamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\n  You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n\n  Blowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\n  Sound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\n  Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n  Hold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\n  I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n  It's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\n  We like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\n  It's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\n  Rough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n\n  Aiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n  Connect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\n  Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n  New York gank adviser world tranquilizer\n  Just the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n  While my pen blow lines ferocious\n  Mediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\n  Then delegate the God to see God\n  The swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\n  Track truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\n  Max mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\n  Guaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland\n"},{"id":9303013,"name":"Triumph","trackName":"Triumph","artistName":"Wu-Tang Clan","albumName":"The Essential Wu‐Tang Clan","duration":339.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\nAnd hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\nMockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\nFlee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\nBattle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\nTremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\nI inspect view through the future see millenium\nKilla Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\nShacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\nGraphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\nBlack Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\nRumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\nHeads by the score, take flight, incite a war\nChicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\nBehold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\nProceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\nStomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n\nWu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n\nAs the world turn, I spread like germs\nBless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\nIt's my testament to those burned\nPlay my position in the game of life standing firm\nOn foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\nTransform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\nIn a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\nIn the line of fire holdin' back, what?\nMy people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\nNiggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\nIt's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\nHerb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\nClot, we smoke pot and blow spots\nYou wanna think twice, I think not\n\nDa Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\nGuns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n\nI twist darts from the heart, tried and true\nLoot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\nCertified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\nTell your story walking\nTake cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\nRun for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\nSo I can squeeze with the advantage\nAnd get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\nCompared to mine\n\nDomino effect, arts and crafts\nParagraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n\nOn my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n\nFor all y'all to all praise to the Gods\nThe saga continues\n\nWu-Tang, Wu-Tang\nOlympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\nThe thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\nWe crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\nFor-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\nAllow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\nPocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\nTune spit the shit immortal combat sound\nThe fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\nA jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\nA death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n\nHold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\nMy orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\nMy music Sicily, rich California smell\nAn axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\nI sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n\nRighteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\nWatch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\nA thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\nPerpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n\nEscape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\nMy beats travel like a vortex\nUp your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\nMake you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\nEnter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\nLike Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n\nGetting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\nWar of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\nMany of the victims' families save they ashes\nA million names on walls, engraved in plaques\nThose who went back, received penalties for their acts\nAnother heart is torn, as close ones gone\n\nThose who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\nThe track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\nAnd leaks sounds that's heard\nNinety-three million miles away from came one\nTo represent the nation, this is a gathering\nOf the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n\nAs we engage in battle\nThe crowd now screams in rage\nThe High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\nLight is provided through sparks of energy\nFrom the mind that travels in rhyme form\nGiving sight to the blind\nThe dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\nDeath only one can save shell from\n\nThis relentless attack of the track spares none\nYo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\nLampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\nCodeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\nSalamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\nYou two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n\nBlowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\nSound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\nHands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\nHold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\nI humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\nIt's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\nWe like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\nIt's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\nRough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n\nAiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\nConnect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\nSwift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\nNew York gank adviser world tranquilizer\nJust the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\nWhile my pen blow lines ferocious\nMediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\nThen delegate the God to see God\nThe swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\nTrack truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\nMax mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\nGuaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland","syncedLyrics":"[00:22.36] I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\n[00:25.07] And hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\n[00:27.26] Mockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\n[00:29.51] Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n[00:32.77] Battle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n[00:35.42] Tremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\n[00:37.99] I inspect view through the future see millenium\n[00:40.44] Killa Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\n[00:43.32] Shacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\n[00:45.57] Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n[00:48.40] Black Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\n[00:50.90] Rumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\n[00:53.42] Heads by the score, take flight, incite a war\n[00:56.42] Chicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\n[00:58.42] Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n[01:01.51] Proceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\n[01:03.99] Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n[01:07.16] Wu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n[01:09.16] As the world turn, I spread like germs\n[01:11.55] Bless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\n[01:14.42] It's my testament to those burned\n[01:16.47] Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n[01:18.52] On foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\n[01:21.83] Transform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\n[01:25.05] In a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\n[01:27.04] In the line of fire holdin' back, what?\n[01:30.21] My people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\n[01:32.25] Niggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\n[01:34.69] It's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\n[01:37.73] Herb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\n[01:40.96] Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n[01:43.56] You wanna think twice, I think not\n[01:45.90] Da Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\n[01:48.22] Guns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n[01:51.86] I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n[01:54.47] Loot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\n[01:57.46] Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n[02:00.37] Tell your story walking\n[02:02.20] Take cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\n[02:05.17] Run for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\n[02:07.64] So I can squeeze with the advantage\n[02:10.01] And get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\n[02:13.27] Compared to mine\n[02:14.76] Domino effect, arts and crafts\n[02:17.32] Paragraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n[02:20.10] On my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n[02:22.86] For all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n[02:26.81] The saga continues\n[02:28.38] Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n[02:30.61] Olympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\n[02:33.17] The thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\n[02:35.38] We crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\n[02:37.99] For-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\n[02:40.38] Allow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\n[02:43.20] Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n[02:46.23] Tune spit the shit immortal combat sound\n[02:48.51] The fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\n[02:51.31] A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n[02:54.08] A death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n[02:56.40] Hold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\n[02:58.46] My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n[03:02.06] My music Sicily, rich California smell\n[03:04.46] An axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\n[03:06.95] I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n[03:09.38] Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\n[03:11.92] Watch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\n[03:14.72] A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n[03:17.14] Perpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n[03:19.99] Escape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\n[03:22.43] My beats travel like a vortex\n[03:24.20] Up your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\n[03:27.12] Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n[03:29.43] Enter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\n[03:32.69] Like Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n[03:35.47] Getting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\n[03:38.55] War of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\n[03:41.29] Many of the victims' families save they ashes\n[03:43.93] A million names on walls, engraved in plaques\n[03:46.47] Those who went back, received penalties for their acts\n[03:48.97] Another heart is torn, as close ones gone\n[03:51.85] Those who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\n[03:54.24] The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n[03:57.55] And leaks sounds that's heard\n[03:59.84] Ninety-three million miles away from came one\n[04:02.40] To represent the nation, this is a gathering\n[04:04.76] Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n[04:08.48] As we engage in battle\n[04:10.82] The crowd now screams in rage\n[04:12.29] The High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\n[04:14.96] Light is provided through sparks of energy\n[04:17.51] From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n[04:20.24] Giving sight to the blind\n[04:21.62] The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n[04:24.08] Death only one can save shell from\n[04:26.50] This relentless attack of the track spares none\n[04:29.30] Yo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\n[04:33.30] Lampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\n[04:35.92] Codeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\n[04:38.84] Salamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\n[04:41.19] You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n[04:43.96] Blowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\n[04:46.65] Sound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\n[04:49.40] Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n[04:52.20] Hold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\n[04:54.03] I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n[04:56.79] It's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\n[04:59.75] We like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\n[05:02.42] It's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\n[05:05.21] Rough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n[05:07.63] Aiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n[05:11.50] Connect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\n[05:13.07] Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n[05:15.66] New York gank adviser world tranquilizer\n[05:18.25] Just the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n[05:20.62] While my pen blow lines ferocious\n[05:23.55] Mediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\n[05:26.00] Then delegate the God to see God\n[05:29.08] The swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\n[05:31.27] Track truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\n[05:34.18] Max mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\n[05:37.24] Guaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland\n[05:38.59] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Triumph\n  artist: Wu-Tang Clan\n  album: The Essential Wu‐Tang Clan\n  duration_ms: 339000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\n  start_ms: 22360\n  end_ms: 25070\n- text: And hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\n  start_ms: 25070\n  end_ms: 27260\n- text: Mockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\n  start_ms: 27260\n  end_ms: 29510\n- text: Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n  start_ms: 29510\n  end_ms: 32770\n- text: Battle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n  start_ms: 32770\n  end_ms: 35420\n- text: Tremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\n  start_ms: 35420\n  end_ms: 37990\n- text: I inspect view through the future see millenium\n  start_ms: 37990\n  end_ms: 40440\n- text: Killa Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\n  start_ms: 40440\n  end_ms: 43320\n- text: Shacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\n  start_ms: 43320\n  end_ms: 45570\n- text: Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n  start_ms: 45570\n  end_ms: 48400\n- text: Black Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\n  start_ms: 48400\n  end_ms: 50900\n- text: Rumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\n  start_ms: 50900\n  end_ms: 53420\n- text: Heads by the score, take flight, incite a war\n  start_ms: 53420\n  end_ms: 56420\n- text: Chicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\n  start_ms: 56420\n  end_ms: 58420\n- text: Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n  start_ms: 58420\n  end_ms: 61510\n- text: Proceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\n  start_ms: 61510\n  end_ms: 63990\n- text: Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n  start_ms: 63990\n  end_ms: 67160\n- text: Wu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n  start_ms: 67160\n  end_ms: 69160\n- text: As the world turn, I spread like germs\n  start_ms: 69160\n  end_ms: 71550\n- text: Bless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\n  start_ms: 71550\n  end_ms: 74420\n- text: It's my testament to those burned\n  start_ms: 74420\n  end_ms: 76470\n- text: Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n  start_ms: 76470\n  end_ms: 78520\n- text: On foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\n  start_ms: 78520\n  end_ms: 81830\n- text: Transform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\n  start_ms: 81830\n  end_ms: 85050\n- text: In a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\n  start_ms: 85050\n  end_ms: 87040\n- text: In the line of fire holdin' back, what?\n  start_ms: 87040\n  end_ms: 90210\n- text: My people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\n  start_ms: 90210\n  end_ms: 92250\n- text: Niggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\n  start_ms: 92250\n  end_ms: 94690\n- text: It's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\n  start_ms: 94690\n  end_ms: 97730\n- text: Herb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\n  start_ms: 97730\n  end_ms: 100960\n- text: Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n  start_ms: 100960\n  end_ms: 103560\n- text: You wanna think twice, I think not\n  start_ms: 103560\n  end_ms: 105900\n- text: Da Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\n  start_ms: 105900\n  end_ms: 108220\n- text: Guns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n  start_ms: 108220\n  end_ms: 111860\n- text: I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n  start_ms: 111860\n  end_ms: 114470\n- text: Loot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\n  start_ms: 114470\n  end_ms: 117460\n- text: Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n  start_ms: 117460\n  end_ms: 120370\n- text: Tell your story walking\n  start_ms: 120370\n  end_ms: 122200\n- text: Take cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\n  start_ms: 122200\n  end_ms: 125170\n- text: Run for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\n  start_ms: 125170\n  end_ms: 127640\n- text: So I can squeeze with the advantage\n  start_ms: 127640\n  end_ms: 130010\n- text: And get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\n  start_ms: 130010\n  end_ms: 133270\n- text: Compared to mine\n  start_ms: 133270\n  end_ms: 134760\n- text: Domino effect, arts and crafts\n  start_ms: 134760\n  end_ms: 137320\n- text: Paragraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n  start_ms: 137320\n  end_ms: 140100\n- text: On my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n  start_ms: 140100\n  end_ms: 142860\n- text: For all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n  start_ms: 142860\n  end_ms: 146810\n- text: The saga continues\n  start_ms: 146810\n  end_ms: 148380\n- text: Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n  start_ms: 148380\n  end_ms: 150610\n- text: Olympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\n  start_ms: 150610\n  end_ms: 153170\n- text: The thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\n  start_ms: 153170\n  end_ms: 155380\n- text: We crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\n  start_ms: 155380\n  end_ms: 157990\n- text: For-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\n  start_ms: 157990\n  end_ms: 160380\n- text: Allow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\n  start_ms: 160380\n  end_ms: 163200\n- text: Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n  start_ms: 163200\n  end_ms: 166230\n- text: Tune spit the shit immortal combat sound\n  start_ms: 166230\n  end_ms: 168510\n- text: The fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\n  start_ms: 168510\n  end_ms: 171310\n- text: A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n  start_ms: 171310\n  end_ms: 174080\n- text: A death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n  start_ms: 174080\n  end_ms: 176400\n- text: Hold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\n  start_ms: 176400\n  end_ms: 178460\n- text: My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n  start_ms: 178460\n  end_ms: 182060\n- text: My music Sicily, rich California smell\n  start_ms: 182060\n  end_ms: 184460\n- text: An axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\n  start_ms: 184460\n  end_ms: 186950\n- text: I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n  start_ms: 186950\n  end_ms: 189380\n- text: Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\n  start_ms: 189380\n  end_ms: 191920\n- text: Watch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\n  start_ms: 191920\n  end_ms: 194720\n- text: A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n  start_ms: 194720\n  end_ms: 197140\n- text: Perpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n  start_ms: 197140\n  end_ms: 199990\n- text: Escape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\n  start_ms: 199990\n  end_ms: 202430\n- text: My beats travel like a vortex\n  start_ms: 202430\n  end_ms: 204200\n- text: Up your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\n  start_ms: 204200\n  end_ms: 207120\n- text: Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n  start_ms: 207120\n  end_ms: 209430\n- text: Enter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\n  start_ms: 209430\n  end_ms: 212690\n- text: Like Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n  start_ms: 212690\n  end_ms: 215470\n- text: Getting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\n  start_ms: 215470\n  end_ms: 218550\n- text: War of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\n  start_ms: 218550\n  end_ms: 221290\n- text: Many of the victims' families save they ashes\n  start_ms: 221290\n  end_ms: 223930\n- text: A million names on walls, engraved in plaques\n  start_ms: 223930\n  end_ms: 226470\n- text: Those who went back, received penalties for their acts\n  start_ms: 226470\n  end_ms: 228970\n- text: Another heart is torn, as close ones gone\n  start_ms: 228970\n  end_ms: 231850\n- text: Those who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\n  start_ms: 231850\n  end_ms: 234240\n- text: The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n  start_ms: 234240\n  end_ms: 237550\n- text: And leaks sounds that's heard\n  start_ms: 237550\n  end_ms: 239840\n- text: Ninety-three million miles away from came one\n  start_ms: 239840\n  end_ms: 242400\n- text: To represent the nation, this is a gathering\n  start_ms: 242400\n  end_ms: 244760\n- text: Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n  start_ms: 244760\n  end_ms: 248480\n- text: As we engage in battle\n  start_ms: 248480\n  end_ms: 250820\n- text: The crowd now screams in rage\n  start_ms: 250820\n  end_ms: 252290\n- text: The High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\n  start_ms: 252290\n  end_ms: 254960\n- text: Light is provided through sparks of energy\n  start_ms: 254960\n  end_ms: 257510\n- text: From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n  start_ms: 257510\n  end_ms: 260240\n- text: Giving sight to the blind\n  start_ms: 260240\n  end_ms: 261620\n- text: The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n  start_ms: 261620\n  end_ms: 264080\n- text: Death only one can save shell from\n  start_ms: 264080\n  end_ms: 266500\n- text: This relentless attack of the track spares none\n  start_ms: 266500\n  end_ms: 269300\n- text: Yo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\n  start_ms: 269300\n  end_ms: 273300\n- text: Lampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\n  start_ms: 273300\n  end_ms: 275920\n- text: Codeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\n  start_ms: 275920\n  end_ms: 278840\n- text: Salamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\n  start_ms: 278840\n  end_ms: 281190\n- text: You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n  start_ms: 281190\n  end_ms: 283960\n- text: Blowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\n  start_ms: 283960\n  end_ms: 286650\n- text: Sound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\n  start_ms: 286650\n  end_ms: 289400\n- text: Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n  start_ms: 289400\n  end_ms: 292200\n- text: Hold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\n  start_ms: 292200\n  end_ms: 294030\n- text: I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n  start_ms: 294030\n  end_ms: 296790\n- text: It's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\n  start_ms: 296790\n  end_ms: 299750\n- text: We like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\n  start_ms: 299750\n  end_ms: 302420\n- text: It's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\n  start_ms: 302420\n  end_ms: 305210\n- text: Rough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n  start_ms: 305210\n  end_ms: 307630\n- text: Aiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n  start_ms: 307630\n  end_ms: 311500\n- text: Connect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\n  start_ms: 311500\n  end_ms: 313070\n- text: Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n  start_ms: 313070\n  end_ms: 315660\n- text: New York gank adviser world tranquilizer\n  start_ms: 315660\n  end_ms: 318250\n- text: Just the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n  start_ms: 318250\n  end_ms: 320620\n- text: While my pen blow lines ferocious\n  start_ms: 320620\n  end_ms: 323550\n- text: Mediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\n  start_ms: 323550\n  end_ms: 326000\n- text: Then delegate the God to see God\n  start_ms: 326000\n  end_ms: 329080\n- text: The swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\n  start_ms: 329080\n  end_ms: 331270\n- text: Track truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\n  start_ms: 331270\n  end_ms: 334180\n- text: Max mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\n  start_ms: 334180\n  end_ms: 337240\n- text: Guaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland\n  start_ms: 337240\n  end_ms: 338590\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 338590\nplain: |-\n  I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\n  And hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\n  Mockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\n  Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n  Battle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n  Tremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\n  I inspect view through the future see millenium\n  Killa Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\n  Shacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\n  Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n  Black Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\n  Rumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\n  Heads by the score, take flight, incite a war\n  Chicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\n  Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n  Proceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\n  Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n\n  Wu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n\n  As the world turn, I spread like germs\n  Bless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\n  It's my testament to those burned\n  Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n  On foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\n  Transform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\n  In a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\n  In the line of fire holdin' back, what?\n  My people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\n  Niggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\n  It's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\n  Herb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\n  Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n  You wanna think twice, I think not\n\n  Da Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\n  Guns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n\n  I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n  Loot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\n  Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n  Tell your story walking\n  Take cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\n  Run for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\n  So I can squeeze with the advantage\n  And get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\n  Compared to mine\n\n  Domino effect, arts and crafts\n  Paragraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n\n  On my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n\n  For all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n  The saga continues\n\n  Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n  Olympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\n  The thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\n  We crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\n  For-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\n  Allow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\n  Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n  Tune spit the shit immortal combat sound\n  The fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\n  A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n  A death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n\n  Hold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\n  My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n  My music Sicily, rich California smell\n  An axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\n  I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n\n  Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\n  Watch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\n  A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n  Perpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n\n  Escape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\n  My beats travel like a vortex\n  Up your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\n  Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n  Enter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\n  Like Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n\n  Getting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\n  War of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\n  Many of the victims' families save they ashes\n  A million names on walls, engraved in plaques\n  Those who went back, received penalties for their acts\n  Another heart is torn, as close ones gone\n\n  Those who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\n  The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n  And leaks sounds that's heard\n  Ninety-three million miles away from came one\n  To represent the nation, this is a gathering\n  Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n\n  As we engage in battle\n  The crowd now screams in rage\n  The High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\n  Light is provided through sparks of energy\n  From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n  Giving sight to the blind\n  The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n  Death only one can save shell from\n\n  This relentless attack of the track spares none\n  Yo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\n  Lampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\n  Codeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\n  Salamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\n  You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n\n  Blowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\n  Sound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\n  Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n  Hold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\n  I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n  It's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\n  We like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\n  It's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\n  Rough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n\n  Aiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n  Connect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\n  Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n  New York gank adviser world tranquilizer\n  Just the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n  While my pen blow lines ferocious\n  Mediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\n  Then delegate the God to see God\n  The swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\n  Track truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\n  Max mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\n  Guaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland\n"},{"id":19940249,"name":"Triumph","trackName":"Triumph","artistName":"Wu-Tang Clan","albumName":"The Essential Wu-Tang Clan","duration":337.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\nAnd hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\nMockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\nFlee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\nBattle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\nTremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\nI inspect view through the future see millenium\nKilla Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\nShacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\nGraphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\nBlack Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\nRumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\nHeads by the score, take flight, incite a war\nChicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\nBehold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\nProceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\nStomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n\nWu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n\nAs the world turn, I spread like germs\nBless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\nIt's my testament to those burned\nPlay my position in the game of life standing firm\nOn foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\nTransform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\nIn a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\nIn the line of fire holdin' back, what?\nMy people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\nNiggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\nIt's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\nHerb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\nClot, we smoke pot and blow spots\nYou wanna think twice, I think not\n\nDa Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\nGuns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n\nI twist darts from the heart, tried and true\nLoot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\nCertified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\nTell your story walking\nTake cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\nRun for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\nSo I can squeeze with the advantage\nAnd get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\nCompared to mine\n\nDomino effect, arts and crafts\nParagraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n\nOn my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n\nFor all y'all to all praise to the Gods\nThe saga continues\n\nWu-Tang, Wu-Tang\nOlympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\nThe thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\nWe crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\nFor-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\nAllow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\nPocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\nTune spit the shit immortal combat sound\nThe fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\nA jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\nA death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n\nHold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\nMy orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\nMy music Sicily, rich California smell\nAn axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\nI sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n\nRighteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\nWatch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\nA thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\nPerpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n\nEscape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\nMy beats travel like a vortex\nUp your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\nMake you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\nEnter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\nLike Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n\nGetting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\nWar of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\nMany of the victims' families save they ashes\nA million names on walls, engraved in plaques\nThose who went back, received penalties for their acts\nAnother heart is torn, as close ones gone\n\nThose who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\nThe track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\nAnd leaks sounds that's heard\nNinety-three million miles away from came one\nTo represent the nation, this is a gathering\nOf the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n\nAs we engage in battle\nThe crowd now screams in rage\nThe High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\nLight is provided through sparks of energy\nFrom the mind that travels in rhyme form\nGiving sight to the blind\nThe dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\nDeath only one can save shell from\n\nThis relentless attack of the track spares none\nYo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\nLampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\nCodeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\nSalamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\nYou two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n\nBlowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\nSound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\nHands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\nHold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\nI humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\nIt's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\nWe like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\nIt's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\nRough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n\nAiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\nConnect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\nSwift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\nNew York gank adviser world tranquilizer\nJust the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\nWhile my pen blow lines ferocious\nMediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\nThen delegate the God to see God\nThe swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\nTrack truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\nMax mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\nGuaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Triumph\n  artist: Wu-Tang Clan\n  album: The Essential Wu-Tang Clan\n  duration_ms: 337000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\n  And hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\n  Mockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\n  Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n  Battle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n  Tremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\n  I inspect view through the future see millenium\n  Killa Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\n  Shacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\n  Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n  Black Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\n  Rumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\n  Heads by the score, take flight, incite a war\n  Chicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\n  Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n  Proceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\n  Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n\n  Wu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n\n  As the world turn, I spread like germs\n  Bless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\n  It's my testament to those burned\n  Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n  On foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\n  Transform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\n  In a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\n  In the line of fire holdin' back, what?\n  My people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\n  Niggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\n  It's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\n  Herb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\n  Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n  You wanna think twice, I think not\n\n  Da Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\n  Guns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n\n  I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n  Loot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\n  Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n  Tell your story walking\n  Take cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\n  Run for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\n  So I can squeeze with the advantage\n  And get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\n  Compared to mine\n\n  Domino effect, arts and crafts\n  Paragraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n\n  On my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n\n  For all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n  The saga continues\n\n  Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n  Olympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\n  The thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\n  We crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\n  For-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\n  Allow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\n  Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n  Tune spit the shit immortal combat sound\n  The fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\n  A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n  A death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n\n  Hold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\n  My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n  My music Sicily, rich California smell\n  An axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\n  I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n\n  Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\n  Watch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\n  A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n  Perpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n\n  Escape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\n  My beats travel like a vortex\n  Up your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\n  Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n  Enter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\n  Like Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n\n  Getting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\n  War of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\n  Many of the victims' families save they ashes\n  A million names on walls, engraved in plaques\n  Those who went back, received penalties for their acts\n  Another heart is torn, as close ones gone\n\n  Those who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\n  The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n  And leaks sounds that's heard\n  Ninety-three million miles away from came one\n  To represent the nation, this is a gathering\n  Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n\n  As we engage in battle\n  The crowd now screams in rage\n  The High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\n  Light is provided through sparks of energy\n  From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n  Giving sight to the blind\n  The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n  Death only one can save shell from\n\n  This relentless attack of the track spares none\n  Yo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\n  Lampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\n  Codeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\n  Salamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\n  You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n\n  Blowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\n  Sound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\n  Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n  Hold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\n  I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n  It's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\n  We like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\n  It's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\n  Rough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n\n  Aiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n  Connect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\n  Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n  New York gank adviser world tranquilizer\n  Just the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n  While my pen blow lines ferocious\n  Mediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\n  Then delegate the God to see God\n  The swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\n  Track truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\n  Max mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\n  Guaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland\n"},{"id":9784297,"name":"Triumph","trackName":"Triumph","artistName":"Wu‐Tang Clan","albumName":"The Essential Wu‐Tang Clan","duration":338.53333333333336,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\nAnd hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\nMockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\nFlee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\nBattle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\nTremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\nI inspect view through the future see millenium\nKilla Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\nShacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\nGraphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\nBlack Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\nRumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\nHeads by the score, take flight, incite a war\nChicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\nBehold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\nProceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\nStomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n\nWu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n\nAs the world turn, I spread like germs\nBless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\nIt's my testament to those burned\nPlay my position in the game of life standing firm\nOn foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\nTransform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\nIn a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\nIn the line of fire holdin' back, what?\nMy people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\nNiggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\nIt's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\nHerb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\nClot, we smoke pot and blow spots\nYou wanna think twice, I think not\n\nDa Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\nGuns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n\nI twist darts from the heart, tried and true\nLoot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\nCertified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\nTell your story walking\nTake cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\nRun for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\nSo I can squeeze with the advantage\nAnd get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\nCompared to mine\n\nDomino effect, arts and crafts\nParagraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n\nOn my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n\nFor all y'all to all praise to the Gods\nThe saga continues\n\nWu-Tang, Wu-Tang\nOlympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\nThe thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\nWe crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\nFor-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\nAllow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\nPocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\nTune spit the shit immortal combat sound\nThe fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\nA jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\nA death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n\nHold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\nMy orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\nMy music Sicily, rich California smell\nAn axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\nI sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n\nRighteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\nWatch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\nA thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\nPerpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n\nEscape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\nMy beats travel like a vortex\nUp your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\nMake you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\nEnter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\nLike Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n\nGetting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\nWar of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\nMany of the victims' families save they ashes\nA million names on walls, engraved in plaques\nThose who went back, received penalties for their acts\nAnother heart is torn, as close ones gone\n\nThose who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\nThe track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\nAnd leaks sounds that's heard\nNinety-three million miles away from came one\nTo represent the nation, this is a gathering\nOf the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n\nAs we engage in battle\nThe crowd now screams in rage\nThe High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\nLight is provided through sparks of energy\nFrom the mind that travels in rhyme form\nGiving sight to the blind\nThe dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\nDeath only one can save shell from\n\nThis relentless attack of the track spares none\nYo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\nLampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\nCodeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\nSalamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\nYou two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n\nBlowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\nSound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\nHands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\nHold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\nI humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\nIt's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\nWe like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\nIt's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\nRough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n\nAiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\nConnect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\nSwift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\nNew York gank adviser world tranquilizer\nJust the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\nWhile my pen blow lines ferocious\nMediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\nThen delegate the God to see God\nThe swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\nTrack truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\nMax mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\nGuaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland","syncedLyrics":"[00:22.36] I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\n[00:25.07] And hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\n[00:27.26] Mockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\n[00:29.51] Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n[00:32.77] Battle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n[00:35.42] Tremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\n[00:37.99] I inspect view through the future see millenium\n[00:40.44] Killa Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\n[00:43.32] Shacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\n[00:45.57] Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n[00:48.40] Black Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\n[00:50.90] Rumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\n[00:53.42] Heads by the score, take flight, incite a war\n[00:56.42] Chicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\n[00:58.42] Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n[01:01.51] Proceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\n[01:03.99] Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n[01:07.16] Wu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n[01:09.16] As the world turn, I spread like germs\n[01:11.55] Bless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\n[01:14.42] It's my testament to those burned\n[01:16.47] Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n[01:18.52] On foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\n[01:21.83] Transform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\n[01:25.05] In a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\n[01:27.04] In the line of fire holdin' back, what?\n[01:30.21] My people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\n[01:32.25] Niggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\n[01:34.69] It's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\n[01:37.73] Herb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\n[01:40.96] Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n[01:43.56] You wanna think twice, I think not\n[01:45.90] Da Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\n[01:48.22] Guns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n[01:51.86] I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n[01:54.47] Loot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\n[01:57.46] Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n[02:00.37] Tell your story walking\n[02:02.20] Take cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\n[02:05.17] Run for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\n[02:07.64] So I can squeeze with the advantage\n[02:10.01] And get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\n[02:13.27] Compared to mine\n[02:14.76] Domino effect, arts and crafts\n[02:17.32] Paragraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n[02:20.10] On my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n[02:22.86] For all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n[02:26.81] The saga continues\n[02:28.38] Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n[02:30.61] Olympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\n[02:33.17] The thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\n[02:35.38] We crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\n[02:37.99] For-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\n[02:40.38] Allow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\n[02:43.20] Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n[02:46.23] Tune spit the shit immortal combat sound\n[02:48.51] The fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\n[02:51.31] A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n[02:54.08] A death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n[02:56.40] Hold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\n[02:58.46] My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n[03:02.06] My music Sicily, rich California smell\n[03:04.46] An axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\n[03:06.95] I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n[03:09.38] Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\n[03:11.92] Watch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\n[03:14.72] A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n[03:17.14] Perpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n[03:19.99] Escape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\n[03:22.43] My beats travel like a vortex\n[03:24.20] Up your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\n[03:27.12] Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n[03:29.43] Enter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\n[03:32.69] Like Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n[03:35.47] Getting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\n[03:38.55] War of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\n[03:41.29] Many of the victims' families save they ashes\n[03:43.93] A million names on walls, engraved in plaques\n[03:46.47] Those who went back, received penalties for their acts\n[03:48.97] Another heart is torn, as close ones gone\n[03:51.85] Those who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\n[03:54.24] The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n[03:57.55] And leaks sounds that's heard\n[03:59.84] Ninety-three million miles away from came one\n[04:02.40] To represent the nation, this is a gathering\n[04:04.76] Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n[04:08.48] As we engage in battle\n[04:10.82] The crowd now screams in rage\n[04:12.29] The High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\n[04:14.96] Light is provided through sparks of energy\n[04:17.51] From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n[04:20.24] Giving sight to the blind\n[04:21.62] The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n[04:24.08] Death only one can save shell from\n[04:26.50] This relentless attack of the track spares none\n[04:29.30] Yo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\n[04:33.30] Lampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\n[04:35.92] Codeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\n[04:38.84] Salamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\n[04:41.19] You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n[04:43.96] Blowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\n[04:46.65] Sound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\n[04:49.40] Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n[04:52.20] Hold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\n[04:54.03] I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n[04:56.79] It's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\n[04:59.75] We like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\n[05:02.42] It's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\n[05:05.21] Rough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n[05:07.63] Aiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n[05:11.50] Connect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\n[05:13.07] Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n[05:15.66] New York gank adviser world tranquilizer\n[05:18.25] Just the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n[05:20.62] While my pen blow lines ferocious\n[05:23.55] Mediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\n[05:26.00] Then delegate the God to see God\n[05:29.08] The swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\n[05:31.27] Track truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\n[05:34.18] Max mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\n[05:37.24] Guaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland\n[05:38.59] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Triumph\n  artist: Wu‐Tang Clan\n  album: The Essential Wu‐Tang Clan\n  duration_ms: 338533\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\n  start_ms: 22360\n  end_ms: 25070\n- text: And hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\n  start_ms: 25070\n  end_ms: 27260\n- text: Mockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\n  start_ms: 27260\n  end_ms: 29510\n- text: Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n  start_ms: 29510\n  end_ms: 32770\n- text: Battle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n  start_ms: 32770\n  end_ms: 35420\n- text: Tremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\n  start_ms: 35420\n  end_ms: 37990\n- text: I inspect view through the future see millenium\n  start_ms: 37990\n  end_ms: 40440\n- text: Killa Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\n  start_ms: 40440\n  end_ms: 43320\n- text: Shacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\n  start_ms: 43320\n  end_ms: 45570\n- text: Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n  start_ms: 45570\n  end_ms: 48400\n- text: Black Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\n  start_ms: 48400\n  end_ms: 50900\n- text: Rumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\n  start_ms: 50900\n  end_ms: 53420\n- text: Heads by the score, take flight, incite a war\n  start_ms: 53420\n  end_ms: 56420\n- text: Chicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\n  start_ms: 56420\n  end_ms: 58420\n- text: Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n  start_ms: 58420\n  end_ms: 61510\n- text: Proceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\n  start_ms: 61510\n  end_ms: 63990\n- text: Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n  start_ms: 63990\n  end_ms: 67160\n- text: Wu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n  start_ms: 67160\n  end_ms: 69160\n- text: As the world turn, I spread like germs\n  start_ms: 69160\n  end_ms: 71550\n- text: Bless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\n  start_ms: 71550\n  end_ms: 74420\n- text: It's my testament to those burned\n  start_ms: 74420\n  end_ms: 76470\n- text: Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n  start_ms: 76470\n  end_ms: 78520\n- text: On foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\n  start_ms: 78520\n  end_ms: 81830\n- text: Transform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\n  start_ms: 81830\n  end_ms: 85050\n- text: In a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\n  start_ms: 85050\n  end_ms: 87040\n- text: In the line of fire holdin' back, what?\n  start_ms: 87040\n  end_ms: 90210\n- text: My people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\n  start_ms: 90210\n  end_ms: 92250\n- text: Niggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\n  start_ms: 92250\n  end_ms: 94690\n- text: It's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\n  start_ms: 94690\n  end_ms: 97730\n- text: Herb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\n  start_ms: 97730\n  end_ms: 100960\n- text: Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n  start_ms: 100960\n  end_ms: 103560\n- text: You wanna think twice, I think not\n  start_ms: 103560\n  end_ms: 105900\n- text: Da Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\n  start_ms: 105900\n  end_ms: 108220\n- text: Guns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n  start_ms: 108220\n  end_ms: 111860\n- text: I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n  start_ms: 111860\n  end_ms: 114470\n- text: Loot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\n  start_ms: 114470\n  end_ms: 117460\n- text: Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n  start_ms: 117460\n  end_ms: 120370\n- text: Tell your story walking\n  start_ms: 120370\n  end_ms: 122200\n- text: Take cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\n  start_ms: 122200\n  end_ms: 125170\n- text: Run for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\n  start_ms: 125170\n  end_ms: 127640\n- text: So I can squeeze with the advantage\n  start_ms: 127640\n  end_ms: 130010\n- text: And get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\n  start_ms: 130010\n  end_ms: 133270\n- text: Compared to mine\n  start_ms: 133270\n  end_ms: 134760\n- text: Domino effect, arts and crafts\n  start_ms: 134760\n  end_ms: 137320\n- text: Paragraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n  start_ms: 137320\n  end_ms: 140100\n- text: On my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n  start_ms: 140100\n  end_ms: 142860\n- text: For all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n  start_ms: 142860\n  end_ms: 146810\n- text: The saga continues\n  start_ms: 146810\n  end_ms: 148380\n- text: Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n  start_ms: 148380\n  end_ms: 150610\n- text: Olympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\n  start_ms: 150610\n  end_ms: 153170\n- text: The thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\n  start_ms: 153170\n  end_ms: 155380\n- text: We crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\n  start_ms: 155380\n  end_ms: 157990\n- text: For-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\n  start_ms: 157990\n  end_ms: 160380\n- text: Allow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\n  start_ms: 160380\n  end_ms: 163200\n- text: Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n  start_ms: 163200\n  end_ms: 166230\n- text: Tune spit the shit immortal combat sound\n  start_ms: 166230\n  end_ms: 168510\n- text: The fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\n  start_ms: 168510\n  end_ms: 171310\n- text: A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n  start_ms: 171310\n  end_ms: 174080\n- text: A death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n  start_ms: 174080\n  end_ms: 176400\n- text: Hold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\n  start_ms: 176400\n  end_ms: 178460\n- text: My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n  start_ms: 178460\n  end_ms: 182060\n- text: My music Sicily, rich California smell\n  start_ms: 182060\n  end_ms: 184460\n- text: An axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\n  start_ms: 184460\n  end_ms: 186950\n- text: I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n  start_ms: 186950\n  end_ms: 189380\n- text: Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\n  start_ms: 189380\n  end_ms: 191920\n- text: Watch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\n  start_ms: 191920\n  end_ms: 194720\n- text: A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n  start_ms: 194720\n  end_ms: 197140\n- text: Perpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n  start_ms: 197140\n  end_ms: 199990\n- text: Escape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\n  start_ms: 199990\n  end_ms: 202430\n- text: My beats travel like a vortex\n  start_ms: 202430\n  end_ms: 204200\n- text: Up your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\n  start_ms: 204200\n  end_ms: 207120\n- text: Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n  start_ms: 207120\n  end_ms: 209430\n- text: Enter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\n  start_ms: 209430\n  end_ms: 212690\n- text: Like Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n  start_ms: 212690\n  end_ms: 215470\n- text: Getting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\n  start_ms: 215470\n  end_ms: 218550\n- text: War of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\n  start_ms: 218550\n  end_ms: 221290\n- text: Many of the victims' families save they ashes\n  start_ms: 221290\n  end_ms: 223930\n- text: A million names on walls, engraved in plaques\n  start_ms: 223930\n  end_ms: 226470\n- text: Those who went back, received penalties for their acts\n  start_ms: 226470\n  end_ms: 228970\n- text: Another heart is torn, as close ones gone\n  start_ms: 228970\n  end_ms: 231850\n- text: Those who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\n  start_ms: 231850\n  end_ms: 234240\n- text: The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n  start_ms: 234240\n  end_ms: 237550\n- text: And leaks sounds that's heard\n  start_ms: 237550\n  end_ms: 239840\n- text: Ninety-three million miles away from came one\n  start_ms: 239840\n  end_ms: 242400\n- text: To represent the nation, this is a gathering\n  start_ms: 242400\n  end_ms: 244760\n- text: Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n  start_ms: 244760\n  end_ms: 248480\n- text: As we engage in battle\n  start_ms: 248480\n  end_ms: 250820\n- text: The crowd now screams in rage\n  start_ms: 250820\n  end_ms: 252290\n- text: The High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\n  start_ms: 252290\n  end_ms: 254960\n- text: Light is provided through sparks of energy\n  start_ms: 254960\n  end_ms: 257510\n- text: From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n  start_ms: 257510\n  end_ms: 260240\n- text: Giving sight to the blind\n  start_ms: 260240\n  end_ms: 261620\n- text: The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n  start_ms: 261620\n  end_ms: 264080\n- text: Death only one can save shell from\n  start_ms: 264080\n  end_ms: 266500\n- text: This relentless attack of the track spares none\n  start_ms: 266500\n  end_ms: 269300\n- text: Yo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\n  start_ms: 269300\n  end_ms: 273300\n- text: Lampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\n  start_ms: 273300\n  end_ms: 275920\n- text: Codeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\n  start_ms: 275920\n  end_ms: 278840\n- text: Salamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\n  start_ms: 278840\n  end_ms: 281190\n- text: You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n  start_ms: 281190\n  end_ms: 283960\n- text: Blowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\n  start_ms: 283960\n  end_ms: 286650\n- text: Sound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\n  start_ms: 286650\n  end_ms: 289400\n- text: Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n  start_ms: 289400\n  end_ms: 292200\n- text: Hold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\n  start_ms: 292200\n  end_ms: 294030\n- text: I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n  start_ms: 294030\n  end_ms: 296790\n- text: It's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\n  start_ms: 296790\n  end_ms: 299750\n- text: We like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\n  start_ms: 299750\n  end_ms: 302420\n- text: It's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\n  start_ms: 302420\n  end_ms: 305210\n- text: Rough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n  start_ms: 305210\n  end_ms: 307630\n- text: Aiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n  start_ms: 307630\n  end_ms: 311500\n- text: Connect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\n  start_ms: 311500\n  end_ms: 313070\n- text: Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n  start_ms: 313070\n  end_ms: 315660\n- text: New York gank adviser world tranquilizer\n  start_ms: 315660\n  end_ms: 318250\n- text: Just the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n  start_ms: 318250\n  end_ms: 320620\n- text: While my pen blow lines ferocious\n  start_ms: 320620\n  end_ms: 323550\n- text: Mediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\n  start_ms: 323550\n  end_ms: 326000\n- text: Then delegate the God to see God\n  start_ms: 326000\n  end_ms: 329080\n- text: The swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\n  start_ms: 329080\n  end_ms: 331270\n- text: Track truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\n  start_ms: 331270\n  end_ms: 334180\n- text: Max mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\n  start_ms: 334180\n  end_ms: 337240\n- text: Guaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland\n  start_ms: 337240\n  end_ms: 338590\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 338590\nplain: |-\n  I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\n  And hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\n  Mockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\n  Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n  Battle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n  Tremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\n  I inspect view through the future see millenium\n  Killa Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\n  Shacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\n  Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n  Black Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\n  Rumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\n  Heads by the score, take flight, incite a war\n  Chicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\n  Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n  Proceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\n  Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n\n  Wu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n\n  As the world turn, I spread like germs\n  Bless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\n  It's my testament to those burned\n  Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n  On foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\n  Transform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\n  In a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\n  In the line of fire holdin' back, what?\n  My people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\n  Niggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\n  It's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\n  Herb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\n  Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n  You wanna think twice, I think not\n\n  Da Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\n  Guns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n\n  I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n  Loot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\n  Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n  Tell your story walking\n  Take cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\n  Run for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\n  So I can squeeze with the advantage\n  And get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\n  Compared to mine\n\n  Domino effect, arts and crafts\n  Paragraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n\n  On my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n\n  For all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n  The saga continues\n\n  Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n  Olympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\n  The thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\n  We crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\n  For-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\n  Allow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\n  Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n  Tune spit the shit immortal combat sound\n  The fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\n  A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n  A death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n\n  Hold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\n  My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n  My music Sicily, rich California smell\n  An axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\n  I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n\n  Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\n  Watch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\n  A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n  Perpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n\n  Escape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\n  My beats travel like a vortex\n  Up your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\n  Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n  Enter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\n  Like Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n\n  Getting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\n  War of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\n  Many of the victims' families save they ashes\n  A million names on walls, engraved in plaques\n  Those who went back, received penalties for their acts\n  Another heart is torn, as close ones gone\n\n  Those who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\n  The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n  And leaks sounds that's heard\n  Ninety-three million miles away from came one\n  To represent the nation, this is a gathering\n  Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n\n  As we engage in battle\n  The crowd now screams in rage\n  The High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\n  Light is provided through sparks of energy\n  From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n  Giving sight to the blind\n  The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n  Death only one can save shell from\n\n  This relentless attack of the track spares none\n  Yo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\n  Lampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\n  Codeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\n  Salamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\n  You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n\n  Blowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\n  Sound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\n  Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n  Hold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\n  I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n  It's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\n  We like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\n  It's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\n  Rough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n\n  Aiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n  Connect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\n  Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n  New York gank adviser world tranquilizer\n  Just the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n  While my pen blow lines ferocious\n  Mediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\n  Then delegate the God to see God\n  The swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\n  Track truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\n  Max mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\n  Guaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland\n"},{"id":16133351,"name":"Triumph","trackName":"Triumph","artistName":"Wu‐Tang Clan","albumName":"Wu: The Story of the Wu‐Tang Clan","duration":339.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\nAnd hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\nMockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\nFlee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\nBattle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\nTremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\nI inspect view through the future see millenium\nKilla Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\nShacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\nGraphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\nBlack Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\nRumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\nHeads by the score, take flight, incite a war\nChicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\nBehold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\nProceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\nStomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n\nWu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n\nAs the world turn, I spread like germs\nBless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\nIt's my testament to those burned\nPlay my position in the game of life standing firm\nOn foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\nTransform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\nIn a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\nIn the line of fire holdin' back, what?\nMy people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\nNiggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\nIt's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\nHerb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\nClot, we smoke pot and blow spots\nYou wanna think twice, I think not\n\nDa Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\nGuns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n\nI twist darts from the heart, tried and true\nLoot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\nCertified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\nTell your story walking\nTake cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\nRun for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\nSo I can squeeze with the advantage\nAnd get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\nCompared to mine\n\nDomino effect, arts and crafts\nParagraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n\nOn my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n\nFor all y'all to all praise to the Gods\nThe saga continues\n\nWu-Tang, Wu-Tang\nOlympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\nThe thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\nWe crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\nFor-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\nAllow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\nPocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\nTune spit the shit immortal combat sound\nThe fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\nA jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\nA death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n\nHold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\nMy orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\nMy music Sicily, rich California smell\nAn axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\nI sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n\nRighteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\nWatch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\nA thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\nPerpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n\nEscape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\nMy beats travel like a vortex\nUp your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\nMake you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\nEnter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\nLike Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n\nGetting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\nWar of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\nMany of the victims' families save they ashes\nA million names on walls, engraved in plaques\nThose who went back, received penalties for their acts\nAnother heart is torn, as close ones gone\n\nThose who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\nThe track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\nAnd leaks sounds that's heard\nNinety-three million miles away from came one\nTo represent the nation, this is a gathering\nOf the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n\nAs we engage in battle\nThe crowd now screams in rage\nThe High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\nLight is provided through sparks of energy\nFrom the mind that travels in rhyme form\nGiving sight to the blind\nThe dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\nDeath only one can save shell from\n\nThis relentless attack of the track spares none\nYo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\nLampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\nCodeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\nSalamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\nYou two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n\nBlowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\nSound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\nHands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\nHold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\nI humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\nIt's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\nWe like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\nIt's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\nRough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n\nAiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\nConnect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\nSwift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\nNew York gank adviser world tranquilizer\nJust the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\nWhile my pen blow lines ferocious\nMediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\nThen delegate the God to see God\nThe swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\nTrack truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\nMax mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\nGuaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland","syncedLyrics":"[00:22.36] I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\n[00:25.07] And hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\n[00:27.26] Mockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\n[00:29.51] Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n[00:32.77] Battle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n[00:35.42] Tremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\n[00:37.99] I inspect view through the future see millenium\n[00:40.44] Killa Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\n[00:43.32] Shacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\n[00:45.57] Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n[00:48.40] Black Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\n[00:50.90] Rumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\n[00:53.42] Heads by the score, take flight, incite a war\n[00:56.42] Chicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\n[00:58.42] Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n[01:01.51] Proceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\n[01:03.99] Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n[01:07.16] Wu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n[01:09.16] As the world turn, I spread like germs\n[01:11.55] Bless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\n[01:14.42] It's my testament to those burned\n[01:16.47] Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n[01:18.52] On foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\n[01:21.83] Transform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\n[01:25.05] In a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\n[01:27.04] In the line of fire holdin' back, what?\n[01:30.21] My people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\n[01:32.25] Niggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\n[01:34.69] It's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\n[01:37.73] Herb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\n[01:40.96] Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n[01:43.56] You wanna think twice, I think not\n[01:45.90] Da Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\n[01:48.22] Guns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n[01:51.86] I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n[01:54.47] Loot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\n[01:57.46] Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n[02:00.37] Tell your story walking\n[02:02.20] Take cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\n[02:05.17] Run for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\n[02:07.64] So I can squeeze with the advantage\n[02:10.01] And get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\n[02:13.27] Compared to mine\n[02:14.76] Domino effect, arts and crafts\n[02:17.32] Paragraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n[02:20.10] On my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n[02:22.86] For all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n[02:26.81] The saga continues\n[02:28.38] Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n[02:30.61] Olympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\n[02:33.17] The thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\n[02:35.38] We crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\n[02:37.99] For-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\n[02:40.38] Allow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\n[02:43.20] Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n[02:46.23] Tune spit the shit immortal combat sound\n[02:48.51] The fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\n[02:51.31] A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n[02:54.08] A death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n[02:56.40] Hold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\n[02:58.46] My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n[03:02.06] My music Sicily, rich California smell\n[03:04.46] An axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\n[03:06.95] I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n[03:09.38] Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\n[03:11.92] Watch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\n[03:14.72] A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n[03:17.14] Perpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n[03:19.99] Escape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\n[03:22.43] My beats travel like a vortex\n[03:24.20] Up your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\n[03:27.12] Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n[03:29.43] Enter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\n[03:32.69] Like Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n[03:35.47] Getting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\n[03:38.55] War of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\n[03:41.29] Many of the victims' families save they ashes\n[03:43.93] A million names on walls, engraved in plaques\n[03:46.47] Those who went back, received penalties for their acts\n[03:48.97] Another heart is torn, as close ones gone\n[03:51.85] Those who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\n[03:54.24] The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n[03:57.55] And leaks sounds that's heard\n[03:59.84] Ninety-three million miles away from came one\n[04:02.40] To represent the nation, this is a gathering\n[04:04.76] Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n[04:08.48] As we engage in battle\n[04:10.82] The crowd now screams in rage\n[04:12.29] The High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\n[04:14.96] Light is provided through sparks of energy\n[04:17.51] From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n[04:20.24] Giving sight to the blind\n[04:21.62] The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n[04:24.08] Death only one can save shell from\n[04:26.50] This relentless attack of the track spares none\n[04:29.30] Yo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\n[04:33.30] Lampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\n[04:35.92] Codeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\n[04:38.84] Salamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\n[04:41.19] You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n[04:43.96] Blowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\n[04:46.65] Sound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\n[04:49.40] Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n[04:52.20] Hold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\n[04:54.03] I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n[04:56.79] It's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\n[04:59.75] We like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\n[05:02.42] It's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\n[05:05.21] Rough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n[05:07.63] Aiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n[05:11.50] Connect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\n[05:13.07] Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n[05:15.66] New York gank adviser world tranquilizer\n[05:18.25] Just the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n[05:20.62] While my pen blow lines ferocious\n[05:23.55] Mediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\n[05:26.00] Then delegate the God to see God\n[05:29.08] The swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\n[05:31.27] Track truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\n[05:34.18] Max mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\n[05:37.24] Guaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland\n[05:38.59] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Triumph\n  artist: Wu‐Tang Clan\n  album: 'Wu: The Story of the Wu‐Tang Clan'\n  duration_ms: 339000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\n  start_ms: 22360\n  end_ms: 25070\n- text: And hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\n  start_ms: 25070\n  end_ms: 27260\n- text: Mockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\n  start_ms: 27260\n  end_ms: 29510\n- text: Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n  start_ms: 29510\n  end_ms: 32770\n- text: Battle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n  start_ms: 32770\n  end_ms: 35420\n- text: Tremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\n  start_ms: 35420\n  end_ms: 37990\n- text: I inspect view through the future see millenium\n  start_ms: 37990\n  end_ms: 40440\n- text: Killa Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\n  start_ms: 40440\n  end_ms: 43320\n- text: Shacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\n  start_ms: 43320\n  end_ms: 45570\n- text: Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n  start_ms: 45570\n  end_ms: 48400\n- text: Black Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\n  start_ms: 48400\n  end_ms: 50900\n- text: Rumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\n  start_ms: 50900\n  end_ms: 53420\n- text: Heads by the score, take flight, incite a war\n  start_ms: 53420\n  end_ms: 56420\n- text: Chicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\n  start_ms: 56420\n  end_ms: 58420\n- text: Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n  start_ms: 58420\n  end_ms: 61510\n- text: Proceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\n  start_ms: 61510\n  end_ms: 63990\n- text: Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n  start_ms: 63990\n  end_ms: 67160\n- text: Wu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n  start_ms: 67160\n  end_ms: 69160\n- text: As the world turn, I spread like germs\n  start_ms: 69160\n  end_ms: 71550\n- text: Bless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\n  start_ms: 71550\n  end_ms: 74420\n- text: It's my testament to those burned\n  start_ms: 74420\n  end_ms: 76470\n- text: Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n  start_ms: 76470\n  end_ms: 78520\n- text: On foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\n  start_ms: 78520\n  end_ms: 81830\n- text: Transform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\n  start_ms: 81830\n  end_ms: 85050\n- text: In a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\n  start_ms: 85050\n  end_ms: 87040\n- text: In the line of fire holdin' back, what?\n  start_ms: 87040\n  end_ms: 90210\n- text: My people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\n  start_ms: 90210\n  end_ms: 92250\n- text: Niggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\n  start_ms: 92250\n  end_ms: 94690\n- text: It's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\n  start_ms: 94690\n  end_ms: 97730\n- text: Herb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\n  start_ms: 97730\n  end_ms: 100960\n- text: Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n  start_ms: 100960\n  end_ms: 103560\n- text: You wanna think twice, I think not\n  start_ms: 103560\n  end_ms: 105900\n- text: Da Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\n  start_ms: 105900\n  end_ms: 108220\n- text: Guns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n  start_ms: 108220\n  end_ms: 111860\n- text: I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n  start_ms: 111860\n  end_ms: 114470\n- text: Loot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\n  start_ms: 114470\n  end_ms: 117460\n- text: Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n  start_ms: 117460\n  end_ms: 120370\n- text: Tell your story walking\n  start_ms: 120370\n  end_ms: 122200\n- text: Take cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\n  start_ms: 122200\n  end_ms: 125170\n- text: Run for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\n  start_ms: 125170\n  end_ms: 127640\n- text: So I can squeeze with the advantage\n  start_ms: 127640\n  end_ms: 130010\n- text: And get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\n  start_ms: 130010\n  end_ms: 133270\n- text: Compared to mine\n  start_ms: 133270\n  end_ms: 134760\n- text: Domino effect, arts and crafts\n  start_ms: 134760\n  end_ms: 137320\n- text: Paragraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n  start_ms: 137320\n  end_ms: 140100\n- text: On my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n  start_ms: 140100\n  end_ms: 142860\n- text: For all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n  start_ms: 142860\n  end_ms: 146810\n- text: The saga continues\n  start_ms: 146810\n  end_ms: 148380\n- text: Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n  start_ms: 148380\n  end_ms: 150610\n- text: Olympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\n  start_ms: 150610\n  end_ms: 153170\n- text: The thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\n  start_ms: 153170\n  end_ms: 155380\n- text: We crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\n  start_ms: 155380\n  end_ms: 157990\n- text: For-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\n  start_ms: 157990\n  end_ms: 160380\n- text: Allow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\n  start_ms: 160380\n  end_ms: 163200\n- text: Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n  start_ms: 163200\n  end_ms: 166230\n- text: Tune spit the shit immortal combat sound\n  start_ms: 166230\n  end_ms: 168510\n- text: The fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\n  start_ms: 168510\n  end_ms: 171310\n- text: A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n  start_ms: 171310\n  end_ms: 174080\n- text: A death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n  start_ms: 174080\n  end_ms: 176400\n- text: Hold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\n  start_ms: 176400\n  end_ms: 178460\n- text: My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n  start_ms: 178460\n  end_ms: 182060\n- text: My music Sicily, rich California smell\n  start_ms: 182060\n  end_ms: 184460\n- text: An axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\n  start_ms: 184460\n  end_ms: 186950\n- text: I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n  start_ms: 186950\n  end_ms: 189380\n- text: Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\n  start_ms: 189380\n  end_ms: 191920\n- text: Watch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\n  start_ms: 191920\n  end_ms: 194720\n- text: A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n  start_ms: 194720\n  end_ms: 197140\n- text: Perpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n  start_ms: 197140\n  end_ms: 199990\n- text: Escape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\n  start_ms: 199990\n  end_ms: 202430\n- text: My beats travel like a vortex\n  start_ms: 202430\n  end_ms: 204200\n- text: Up your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\n  start_ms: 204200\n  end_ms: 207120\n- text: Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n  start_ms: 207120\n  end_ms: 209430\n- text: Enter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\n  start_ms: 209430\n  end_ms: 212690\n- text: Like Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n  start_ms: 212690\n  end_ms: 215470\n- text: Getting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\n  start_ms: 215470\n  end_ms: 218550\n- text: War of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\n  start_ms: 218550\n  end_ms: 221290\n- text: Many of the victims' families save they ashes\n  start_ms: 221290\n  end_ms: 223930\n- text: A million names on walls, engraved in plaques\n  start_ms: 223930\n  end_ms: 226470\n- text: Those who went back, received penalties for their acts\n  start_ms: 226470\n  end_ms: 228970\n- text: Another heart is torn, as close ones gone\n  start_ms: 228970\n  end_ms: 231850\n- text: Those who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\n  start_ms: 231850\n  end_ms: 234240\n- text: The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n  start_ms: 234240\n  end_ms: 237550\n- text: And leaks sounds that's heard\n  start_ms: 237550\n  end_ms: 239840\n- text: Ninety-three million miles away from came one\n  start_ms: 239840\n  end_ms: 242400\n- text: To represent the nation, this is a gathering\n  start_ms: 242400\n  end_ms: 244760\n- text: Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n  start_ms: 244760\n  end_ms: 248480\n- text: As we engage in battle\n  start_ms: 248480\n  end_ms: 250820\n- text: The crowd now screams in rage\n  start_ms: 250820\n  end_ms: 252290\n- text: The High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\n  start_ms: 252290\n  end_ms: 254960\n- text: Light is provided through sparks of energy\n  start_ms: 254960\n  end_ms: 257510\n- text: From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n  start_ms: 257510\n  end_ms: 260240\n- text: Giving sight to the blind\n  start_ms: 260240\n  end_ms: 261620\n- text: The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n  start_ms: 261620\n  end_ms: 264080\n- text: Death only one can save shell from\n  start_ms: 264080\n  end_ms: 266500\n- text: This relentless attack of the track spares none\n  start_ms: 266500\n  end_ms: 269300\n- text: Yo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\n  start_ms: 269300\n  end_ms: 273300\n- text: Lampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\n  start_ms: 273300\n  end_ms: 275920\n- text: Codeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\n  start_ms: 275920\n  end_ms: 278840\n- text: Salamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\n  start_ms: 278840\n  end_ms: 281190\n- text: You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n  start_ms: 281190\n  end_ms: 283960\n- text: Blowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\n  start_ms: 283960\n  end_ms: 286650\n- text: Sound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\n  start_ms: 286650\n  end_ms: 289400\n- text: Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n  start_ms: 289400\n  end_ms: 292200\n- text: Hold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\n  start_ms: 292200\n  end_ms: 294030\n- text: I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n  start_ms: 294030\n  end_ms: 296790\n- text: It's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\n  start_ms: 296790\n  end_ms: 299750\n- text: We like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\n  start_ms: 299750\n  end_ms: 302420\n- text: It's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\n  start_ms: 302420\n  end_ms: 305210\n- text: Rough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n  start_ms: 305210\n  end_ms: 307630\n- text: Aiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n  start_ms: 307630\n  end_ms: 311500\n- text: Connect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\n  start_ms: 311500\n  end_ms: 313070\n- text: Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n  start_ms: 313070\n  end_ms: 315660\n- text: New York gank adviser world tranquilizer\n  start_ms: 315660\n  end_ms: 318250\n- text: Just the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n  start_ms: 318250\n  end_ms: 320620\n- text: While my pen blow lines ferocious\n  start_ms: 320620\n  end_ms: 323550\n- text: Mediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\n  start_ms: 323550\n  end_ms: 326000\n- text: Then delegate the God to see God\n  start_ms: 326000\n  end_ms: 329080\n- text: The swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\n  start_ms: 329080\n  end_ms: 331270\n- text: Track truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\n  start_ms: 331270\n  end_ms: 334180\n- text: Max mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\n  start_ms: 334180\n  end_ms: 337240\n- text: Guaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland\n  start_ms: 337240\n  end_ms: 338590\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 338590\nplain: |-\n  I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\n  And hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\n  Mockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\n  Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n  Battle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n  Tremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\n  I inspect view through the future see millenium\n  Killa Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\n  Shacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\n  Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n  Black Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\n  Rumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\n  Heads by the score, take flight, incite a war\n  Chicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\n  Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n  Proceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\n  Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n\n  Wu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n\n  As the world turn, I spread like germs\n  Bless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\n  It's my testament to those burned\n  Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n  On foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\n  Transform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\n  In a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\n  In the line of fire holdin' back, what?\n  My people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\n  Niggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\n  It's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\n  Herb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\n  Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n  You wanna think twice, I think not\n\n  Da Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\n  Guns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n\n  I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n  Loot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\n  Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n  Tell your story walking\n  Take cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\n  Run for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\n  So I can squeeze with the advantage\n  And get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\n  Compared to mine\n\n  Domino effect, arts and crafts\n  Paragraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n\n  On my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n\n  For all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n  The saga continues\n\n  Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n  Olympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\n  The thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\n  We crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\n  For-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\n  Allow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\n  Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n  Tune spit the shit immortal combat sound\n  The fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\n  A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n  A death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n\n  Hold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\n  My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n  My music Sicily, rich California smell\n  An axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\n  I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n\n  Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\n  Watch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\n  A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n  Perpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n\n  Escape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\n  My beats travel like a vortex\n  Up your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\n  Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n  Enter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\n  Like Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n\n  Getting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\n  War of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\n  Many of the victims' families save they ashes\n  A million names on walls, engraved in plaques\n  Those who went back, received penalties for their acts\n  Another heart is torn, as close ones gone\n\n  Those who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\n  The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n  And leaks sounds that's heard\n  Ninety-three million miles away from came one\n  To represent the nation, this is a gathering\n  Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n\n  As we engage in battle\n  The crowd now screams in rage\n  The High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\n  Light is provided through sparks of energy\n  From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n  Giving sight to the blind\n  The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n  Death only one can save shell from\n\n  This relentless attack of the track spares none\n  Yo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\n  Lampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\n  Codeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\n  Salamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\n  You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n\n  Blowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\n  Sound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\n  Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n  Hold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\n  I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n  It's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\n  We like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\n  It's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\n  Rough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n\n  Aiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n  Connect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\n  Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n  New York gank adviser world tranquilizer\n  Just the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n  While my pen blow lines ferocious\n  Mediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\n  Then delegate the God to see God\n  The swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\n  Track truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\n  Max mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\n  Guaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland\n"},{"id":15442213,"name":"Triumph","trackName":"Triumph","artistName":"Wu-Tang Clan","albumName":"Wu: The Story Of The Wu-Tang Clan","duration":338.860408,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\nAnd hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\nMockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\nFlee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\nBattle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\nTremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\nI inspect view through the future see millenium\nKilla Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\nShacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\nGraphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\nBlack Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\nRumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\nHeads by the score, take flight, incite a war\nChicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\nBehold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\nProceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\nStomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n\nWu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n\nAs the world turn, I spread like germs\nBless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\nIt's my testament to those burned\nPlay my position in the game of life standing firm\nOn foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\nTransform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\nIn a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\nIn the line of fire holdin' back, what?\nMy people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\nNiggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\nIt's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\nHerb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\nClot, we smoke pot and blow spots\nYou wanna think twice, I think not\n\nDa Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\nGuns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n\nI twist darts from the heart, tried and true\nLoot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\nCertified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\nTell your story walking\nTake cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\nRun for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\nSo I can squeeze with the advantage\nAnd get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\nCompared to mine\n\nDomino effect, arts and crafts\nParagraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n\nOn my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n\nFor all y'all to all praise to the Gods\nThe saga continues\n\nWu-Tang, Wu-Tang\nOlympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\nThe thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\nWe crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\nFor-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\nAllow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\nPocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\nTune spit the shit immortal combat sound\nThe fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\nA jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\nA death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n\nHold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\nMy orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\nMy music Sicily, rich California smell\nAn axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\nI sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n\nRighteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\nWatch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\nA thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\nPerpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n\nEscape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\nMy beats travel like a vortex\nUp your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\nMake you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\nEnter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\nLike Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n\nGetting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\nWar of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\nMany of the victims' families save they ashes\nA million names on walls, engraved in plaques\nThose who went back, received penalties for their acts\nAnother heart is torn, as close ones gone\n\nThose who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\nThe track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\nAnd leaks sounds that's heard\nNinety-three million miles away from came one\nTo represent the nation, this is a gathering\nOf the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n\nAs we engage in battle\nThe crowd now screams in rage\nThe High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\nLight is provided through sparks of energy\nFrom the mind that travels in rhyme form\nGiving sight to the blind\nThe dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\nDeath only one can save shell from\n\nThis relentless attack of the track spares none\nYo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\nLampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\nCodeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\nSalamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\nYou two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n\nBlowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\nSound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\nHands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\nHold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\nI humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\nIt's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\nWe like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\nIt's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\nRough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n\nAiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\nConnect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\nSwift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\nNew York gank adviser world tranquilizer\nJust the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\nWhile my pen blow lines ferocious\nMediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\nThen delegate the God to see God\nThe swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\nTrack truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\nMax mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\nGuaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland","syncedLyrics":"[00:22.36] I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\n[00:25.07] And hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\n[00:27.26] Mockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\n[00:29.51] Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n[00:32.77] Battle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n[00:35.42] Tremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\n[00:37.99] I inspect view through the future see millenium\n[00:40.44] Killa Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\n[00:43.32] Shacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\n[00:45.57] Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n[00:48.40] Black Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\n[00:50.90] Rumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\n[00:53.42] Heads by the score, take flight, incite a war\n[00:56.42] Chicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\n[00:58.42] Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n[01:01.51] Proceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\n[01:03.99] Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n[01:07.16] Wu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n[01:09.16] As the world turn, I spread like germs\n[01:11.55] Bless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\n[01:14.42] It's my testament to those burned\n[01:16.47] Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n[01:18.52] On foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\n[01:21.83] Transform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\n[01:25.05] In a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\n[01:27.04] In the line of fire holdin' back, what?\n[01:30.21] My people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\n[01:32.25] Niggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\n[01:34.69] It's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\n[01:37.73] Herb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\n[01:40.96] Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n[01:43.56] You wanna think twice, I think not\n[01:45.90] Da Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\n[01:48.22] Guns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n[01:51.86] I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n[01:54.47] Loot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\n[01:57.46] Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n[02:00.37] Tell your story walking\n[02:02.20] Take cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\n[02:05.17] Run for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\n[02:07.64] So I can squeeze with the advantage\n[02:10.01] And get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\n[02:13.27] Compared to mine\n[02:14.76] Domino effect, arts and crafts\n[02:17.32] Paragraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n[02:20.10] On my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n[02:22.86] For all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n[02:26.81] The saga continues\n[02:28.38] Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n[02:30.61] Olympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\n[02:33.17] The thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\n[02:35.38] We crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\n[02:37.99] For-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\n[02:40.38] Allow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\n[02:43.20] Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n[02:46.23] Tune spit the shit immortal combat sound\n[02:48.51] The fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\n[02:51.31] A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n[02:54.08] A death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n[02:56.40] Hold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\n[02:58.46] My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n[03:02.06] My music Sicily, rich California smell\n[03:04.46] An axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\n[03:06.95] I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n[03:09.38] Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\n[03:11.92] Watch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\n[03:14.72] A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n[03:17.14] Perpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n[03:19.99] Escape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\n[03:22.43] My beats travel like a vortex\n[03:24.20] Up your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\n[03:27.12] Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n[03:29.43] Enter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\n[03:32.69] Like Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n[03:35.47] Getting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\n[03:38.55] War of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\n[03:41.29] Many of the victims' families save they ashes\n[03:43.93] A million names on walls, engraved in plaques\n[03:46.47] Those who went back, received penalties for their acts\n[03:48.97] Another heart is torn, as close ones gone\n[03:51.85] Those who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\n[03:54.24] The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n[03:57.55] And leaks sounds that's heard\n[03:59.84] Ninety-three million miles away from came one\n[04:02.40] To represent the nation, this is a gathering\n[04:04.76] Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n[04:08.48] As we engage in battle\n[04:10.82] The crowd now screams in rage\n[04:12.29] The High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\n[04:14.96] Light is provided through sparks of energy\n[04:17.51] From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n[04:20.24] Giving sight to the blind\n[04:21.62] The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n[04:24.08] Death only one can save shell from\n[04:26.50] This relentless attack of the track spares none\n[04:29.30] Yo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\n[04:33.30] Lampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\n[04:35.92] Codeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\n[04:38.84] Salamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\n[04:41.19] You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n[04:43.96] Blowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\n[04:46.65] Sound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\n[04:49.40] Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n[04:52.20] Hold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\n[04:54.03] I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n[04:56.79] It's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\n[04:59.75] We like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\n[05:02.42] It's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\n[05:05.21] Rough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n[05:07.63] Aiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n[05:11.50] Connect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\n[05:13.07] Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n[05:15.66] New York gank adviser world tranquilizer\n[05:18.25] Just the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n[05:20.62] While my pen blow lines ferocious\n[05:23.55] Mediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\n[05:26.00] Then delegate the God to see God\n[05:29.08] The swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\n[05:31.27] Track truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\n[05:34.18] Max mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\n[05:37.24] Guaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland\n[05:38.59] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Triumph\n  artist: Wu-Tang Clan\n  album: 'Wu: The Story Of The Wu-Tang Clan'\n  duration_ms: 338860\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\n  start_ms: 22360\n  end_ms: 25070\n- text: And hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\n  start_ms: 25070\n  end_ms: 27260\n- text: Mockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\n  start_ms: 27260\n  end_ms: 29510\n- text: Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n  start_ms: 29510\n  end_ms: 32770\n- text: Battle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n  start_ms: 32770\n  end_ms: 35420\n- text: Tremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\n  start_ms: 35420\n  end_ms: 37990\n- text: I inspect view through the future see millenium\n  start_ms: 37990\n  end_ms: 40440\n- text: Killa Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\n  start_ms: 40440\n  end_ms: 43320\n- text: Shacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\n  start_ms: 43320\n  end_ms: 45570\n- text: Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n  start_ms: 45570\n  end_ms: 48400\n- text: Black Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\n  start_ms: 48400\n  end_ms: 50900\n- text: Rumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\n  start_ms: 50900\n  end_ms: 53420\n- text: Heads by the score, take flight, incite a war\n  start_ms: 53420\n  end_ms: 56420\n- text: Chicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\n  start_ms: 56420\n  end_ms: 58420\n- text: Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n  start_ms: 58420\n  end_ms: 61510\n- text: Proceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\n  start_ms: 61510\n  end_ms: 63990\n- text: Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n  start_ms: 63990\n  end_ms: 67160\n- text: Wu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n  start_ms: 67160\n  end_ms: 69160\n- text: As the world turn, I spread like germs\n  start_ms: 69160\n  end_ms: 71550\n- text: Bless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\n  start_ms: 71550\n  end_ms: 74420\n- text: It's my testament to those burned\n  start_ms: 74420\n  end_ms: 76470\n- text: Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n  start_ms: 76470\n  end_ms: 78520\n- text: On foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\n  start_ms: 78520\n  end_ms: 81830\n- text: Transform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\n  start_ms: 81830\n  end_ms: 85050\n- text: In a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\n  start_ms: 85050\n  end_ms: 87040\n- text: In the line of fire holdin' back, what?\n  start_ms: 87040\n  end_ms: 90210\n- text: My people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\n  start_ms: 90210\n  end_ms: 92250\n- text: Niggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\n  start_ms: 92250\n  end_ms: 94690\n- text: It's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\n  start_ms: 94690\n  end_ms: 97730\n- text: Herb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\n  start_ms: 97730\n  end_ms: 100960\n- text: Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n  start_ms: 100960\n  end_ms: 103560\n- text: You wanna think twice, I think not\n  start_ms: 103560\n  end_ms: 105900\n- text: Da Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\n  start_ms: 105900\n  end_ms: 108220\n- text: Guns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n  start_ms: 108220\n  end_ms: 111860\n- text: I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n  start_ms: 111860\n  end_ms: 114470\n- text: Loot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\n  start_ms: 114470\n  end_ms: 117460\n- text: Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n  start_ms: 117460\n  end_ms: 120370\n- text: Tell your story walking\n  start_ms: 120370\n  end_ms: 122200\n- text: Take cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\n  start_ms: 122200\n  end_ms: 125170\n- text: Run for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\n  start_ms: 125170\n  end_ms: 127640\n- text: So I can squeeze with the advantage\n  start_ms: 127640\n  end_ms: 130010\n- text: And get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\n  start_ms: 130010\n  end_ms: 133270\n- text: Compared to mine\n  start_ms: 133270\n  end_ms: 134760\n- text: Domino effect, arts and crafts\n  start_ms: 134760\n  end_ms: 137320\n- text: Paragraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n  start_ms: 137320\n  end_ms: 140100\n- text: On my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n  start_ms: 140100\n  end_ms: 142860\n- text: For all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n  start_ms: 142860\n  end_ms: 146810\n- text: The saga continues\n  start_ms: 146810\n  end_ms: 148380\n- text: Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n  start_ms: 148380\n  end_ms: 150610\n- text: Olympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\n  start_ms: 150610\n  end_ms: 153170\n- text: The thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\n  start_ms: 153170\n  end_ms: 155380\n- text: We crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\n  start_ms: 155380\n  end_ms: 157990\n- text: For-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\n  start_ms: 157990\n  end_ms: 160380\n- text: Allow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\n  start_ms: 160380\n  end_ms: 163200\n- text: Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n  start_ms: 163200\n  end_ms: 166230\n- text: Tune spit the shit immortal combat sound\n  start_ms: 166230\n  end_ms: 168510\n- text: The fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\n  start_ms: 168510\n  end_ms: 171310\n- text: A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n  start_ms: 171310\n  end_ms: 174080\n- text: A death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n  start_ms: 174080\n  end_ms: 176400\n- text: Hold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\n  start_ms: 176400\n  end_ms: 178460\n- text: My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n  start_ms: 178460\n  end_ms: 182060\n- text: My music Sicily, rich California smell\n  start_ms: 182060\n  end_ms: 184460\n- text: An axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\n  start_ms: 184460\n  end_ms: 186950\n- text: I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n  start_ms: 186950\n  end_ms: 189380\n- text: Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\n  start_ms: 189380\n  end_ms: 191920\n- text: Watch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\n  start_ms: 191920\n  end_ms: 194720\n- text: A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n  start_ms: 194720\n  end_ms: 197140\n- text: Perpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n  start_ms: 197140\n  end_ms: 199990\n- text: Escape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\n  start_ms: 199990\n  end_ms: 202430\n- text: My beats travel like a vortex\n  start_ms: 202430\n  end_ms: 204200\n- text: Up your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\n  start_ms: 204200\n  end_ms: 207120\n- text: Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n  start_ms: 207120\n  end_ms: 209430\n- text: Enter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\n  start_ms: 209430\n  end_ms: 212690\n- text: Like Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n  start_ms: 212690\n  end_ms: 215470\n- text: Getting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\n  start_ms: 215470\n  end_ms: 218550\n- text: War of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\n  start_ms: 218550\n  end_ms: 221290\n- text: Many of the victims' families save they ashes\n  start_ms: 221290\n  end_ms: 223930\n- text: A million names on walls, engraved in plaques\n  start_ms: 223930\n  end_ms: 226470\n- text: Those who went back, received penalties for their acts\n  start_ms: 226470\n  end_ms: 228970\n- text: Another heart is torn, as close ones gone\n  start_ms: 228970\n  end_ms: 231850\n- text: Those who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\n  start_ms: 231850\n  end_ms: 234240\n- text: The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n  start_ms: 234240\n  end_ms: 237550\n- text: And leaks sounds that's heard\n  start_ms: 237550\n  end_ms: 239840\n- text: Ninety-three million miles away from came one\n  start_ms: 239840\n  end_ms: 242400\n- text: To represent the nation, this is a gathering\n  start_ms: 242400\n  end_ms: 244760\n- text: Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n  start_ms: 244760\n  end_ms: 248480\n- text: As we engage in battle\n  start_ms: 248480\n  end_ms: 250820\n- text: The crowd now screams in rage\n  start_ms: 250820\n  end_ms: 252290\n- text: The High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\n  start_ms: 252290\n  end_ms: 254960\n- text: Light is provided through sparks of energy\n  start_ms: 254960\n  end_ms: 257510\n- text: From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n  start_ms: 257510\n  end_ms: 260240\n- text: Giving sight to the blind\n  start_ms: 260240\n  end_ms: 261620\n- text: The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n  start_ms: 261620\n  end_ms: 264080\n- text: Death only one can save shell from\n  start_ms: 264080\n  end_ms: 266500\n- text: This relentless attack of the track spares none\n  start_ms: 266500\n  end_ms: 269300\n- text: Yo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\n  start_ms: 269300\n  end_ms: 273300\n- text: Lampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\n  start_ms: 273300\n  end_ms: 275920\n- text: Codeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\n  start_ms: 275920\n  end_ms: 278840\n- text: Salamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\n  start_ms: 278840\n  end_ms: 281190\n- text: You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n  start_ms: 281190\n  end_ms: 283960\n- text: Blowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\n  start_ms: 283960\n  end_ms: 286650\n- text: Sound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\n  start_ms: 286650\n  end_ms: 289400\n- text: Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n  start_ms: 289400\n  end_ms: 292200\n- text: Hold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\n  start_ms: 292200\n  end_ms: 294030\n- text: I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n  start_ms: 294030\n  end_ms: 296790\n- text: It's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\n  start_ms: 296790\n  end_ms: 299750\n- text: We like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\n  start_ms: 299750\n  end_ms: 302420\n- text: It's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\n  start_ms: 302420\n  end_ms: 305210\n- text: Rough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n  start_ms: 305210\n  end_ms: 307630\n- text: Aiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n  start_ms: 307630\n  end_ms: 311500\n- text: Connect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\n  start_ms: 311500\n  end_ms: 313070\n- text: Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n  start_ms: 313070\n  end_ms: 315660\n- text: New York gank adviser world tranquilizer\n  start_ms: 315660\n  end_ms: 318250\n- text: Just the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n  start_ms: 318250\n  end_ms: 320620\n- text: While my pen blow lines ferocious\n  start_ms: 320620\n  end_ms: 323550\n- text: Mediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\n  start_ms: 323550\n  end_ms: 326000\n- text: Then delegate the God to see God\n  start_ms: 326000\n  end_ms: 329080\n- text: The swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\n  start_ms: 329080\n  end_ms: 331270\n- text: Track truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\n  start_ms: 331270\n  end_ms: 334180\n- text: Max mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\n  start_ms: 334180\n  end_ms: 337240\n- text: Guaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland\n  start_ms: 337240\n  end_ms: 338590\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 338590\nplain: |-\n  I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\n  And hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\n  Mockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\n  Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n  Battle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n  Tremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\n  I inspect view through the future see millenium\n  Killa Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\n  Shacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\n  Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n  Black Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\n  Rumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\n  Heads by the score, take flight, incite a war\n  Chicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\n  Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n  Proceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\n  Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n\n  Wu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n\n  As the world turn, I spread like germs\n  Bless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\n  It's my testament to those burned\n  Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n  On foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\n  Transform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\n  In a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\n  In the line of fire holdin' back, what?\n  My people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\n  Niggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\n  It's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\n  Herb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\n  Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n  You wanna think twice, I think not\n\n  Da Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\n  Guns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n\n  I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n  Loot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\n  Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n  Tell your story walking\n  Take cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\n  Run for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\n  So I can squeeze with the advantage\n  And get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\n  Compared to mine\n\n  Domino effect, arts and crafts\n  Paragraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n\n  On my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n\n  For all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n  The saga continues\n\n  Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n  Olympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\n  The thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\n  We crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\n  For-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\n  Allow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\n  Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n  Tune spit the shit immortal combat sound\n  The fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\n  A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n  A death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n\n  Hold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\n  My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n  My music Sicily, rich California smell\n  An axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\n  I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n\n  Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\n  Watch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\n  A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n  Perpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n\n  Escape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\n  My beats travel like a vortex\n  Up your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\n  Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n  Enter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\n  Like Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n\n  Getting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\n  War of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\n  Many of the victims' families save they ashes\n  A million names on walls, engraved in plaques\n  Those who went back, received penalties for their acts\n  Another heart is torn, as close ones gone\n\n  Those who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\n  The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n  And leaks sounds that's heard\n  Ninety-three million miles away from came one\n  To represent the nation, this is a gathering\n  Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n\n  As we engage in battle\n  The crowd now screams in rage\n  The High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\n  Light is provided through sparks of energy\n  From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n  Giving sight to the blind\n  The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n  Death only one can save shell from\n\n  This relentless attack of the track spares none\n  Yo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\n  Lampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\n  Codeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\n  Salamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\n  You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n\n  Blowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\n  Sound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\n  Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n  Hold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\n  I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n  It's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\n  We like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\n  It's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\n  Rough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n\n  Aiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n  Connect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\n  Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n  New York gank adviser world tranquilizer\n  Just the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n  While my pen blow lines ferocious\n  Mediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\n  Then delegate the God to see God\n  The swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\n  Track truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\n  Max mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\n  Guaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland\n"},{"id":21771511,"name":"Triumph","trackName":"Triumph","artistName":"Wu-Tang Clan","albumName":"Wu∶ The Story of the Wu-Tang Clan","duration":338.886531,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\nAnd hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\nMockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\nFlee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\nBattle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\nTremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\nI inspect view through the future see millenium\nKilla Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\nShacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\nGraphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\nBlack Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\nRumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\nHeads by the score, take flight, incite a war\nChicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\nBehold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\nProceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\nStomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n\nWu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n\nAs the world turn, I spread like germs\nBless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\nIt's my testament to those burned\nPlay my position in the game of life standing firm\nOn foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\nTransform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\nIn a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\nIn the line of fire holdin' back, what?\nMy people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\nNiggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\nIt's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\nHerb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\nClot, we smoke pot and blow spots\nYou wanna think twice, I think not\n\nDa Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\nGuns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n\nI twist darts from the heart, tried and true\nLoot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\nCertified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\nTell your story walking\nTake cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\nRun for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\nSo I can squeeze with the advantage\nAnd get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\nCompared to mine\n\nDomino effect, arts and crafts\nParagraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n\nOn my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n\nFor all y'all to all praise to the Gods\nThe saga continues\n\nWu-Tang, Wu-Tang\nOlympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\nThe thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\nWe crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\nFor-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\nAllow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\nPocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\nTune spit the shit immortal combat sound\nThe fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\nA jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\nA death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n\nHold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\nMy orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\nMy music Sicily, rich California smell\nAn axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\nI sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n\nRighteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\nWatch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\nA thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\nPerpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n\nEscape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\nMy beats travel like a vortex\nUp your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\nMake you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\nEnter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\nLike Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n\nGetting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\nWar of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\nMany of the victims' families save they ashes\nA million names on walls, engraved in plaques\nThose who went back, received penalties for their acts\nAnother heart is torn, as close ones gone\n\nThose who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\nThe track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\nAnd leaks sounds that's heard\nNinety-three million miles away from came one\nTo represent the nation, this is a gathering\nOf the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n\nAs we engage in battle\nThe crowd now screams in rage\nThe High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\nLight is provided through sparks of energy\nFrom the mind that travels in rhyme form\nGiving sight to the blind\nThe dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\nDeath only one can save shell from\n\nThis relentless attack of the track spares none\nYo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\nLampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\nCodeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\nSalamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\nYou two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n\nBlowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\nSound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\nHands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\nHold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\nI humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\nIt's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\nWe like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\nIt's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\nRough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n\nAiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\nConnect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\nSwift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\nNew York gank adviser world tranquilizer\nJust the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\nWhile my pen blow lines ferocious\nMediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\nThen delegate the God to see God\nThe swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\nTrack truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\nMax mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\nGuaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Triumph\n  artist: Wu-Tang Clan\n  album: Wu∶ The Story of the Wu-Tang Clan\n  duration_ms: 338887\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\n  And hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\n  Mockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\n  Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n  Battle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n  Tremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\n  I inspect view through the future see millenium\n  Killa Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\n  Shacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\n  Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n  Black Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\n  Rumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\n  Heads by the score, take flight, incite a war\n  Chicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\n  Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n  Proceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\n  Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n\n  Wu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n\n  As the world turn, I spread like germs\n  Bless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\n  It's my testament to those burned\n  Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n  On foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\n  Transform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\n  In a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\n  In the line of fire holdin' back, what?\n  My people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\n  Niggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\n  It's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\n  Herb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\n  Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n  You wanna think twice, I think not\n\n  Da Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\n  Guns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n\n  I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n  Loot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\n  Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n  Tell your story walking\n  Take cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\n  Run for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\n  So I can squeeze with the advantage\n  And get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\n  Compared to mine\n\n  Domino effect, arts and crafts\n  Paragraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n\n  On my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n\n  For all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n  The saga continues\n\n  Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n  Olympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\n  The thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\n  We crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\n  For-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\n  Allow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\n  Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n  Tune spit the shit immortal combat sound\n  The fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\n  A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n  A death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n\n  Hold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\n  My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n  My music Sicily, rich California smell\n  An axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\n  I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n\n  Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\n  Watch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\n  A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n  Perpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n\n  Escape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\n  My beats travel like a vortex\n  Up your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\n  Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n  Enter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\n  Like Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n\n  Getting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\n  War of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\n  Many of the victims' families save they ashes\n  A million names on walls, engraved in plaques\n  Those who went back, received penalties for their acts\n  Another heart is torn, as close ones gone\n\n  Those who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\n  The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n  And leaks sounds that's heard\n  Ninety-three million miles away from came one\n  To represent the nation, this is a gathering\n  Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n\n  As we engage in battle\n  The crowd now screams in rage\n  The High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\n  Light is provided through sparks of energy\n  From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n  Giving sight to the blind\n  The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n  Death only one can save shell from\n\n  This relentless attack of the track spares none\n  Yo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\n  Lampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\n  Codeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\n  Salamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\n  You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n\n  Blowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\n  Sound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\n  Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n  Hold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\n  I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n  It's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\n  We like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\n  It's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\n  Rough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n\n  Aiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n  Connect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\n  Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n  New York gank adviser world tranquilizer\n  Just the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n  While my pen blow lines ferocious\n  Mediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\n  Then delegate the God to see God\n  The swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\n  Track truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\n  Max mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\n  Guaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland\n"},{"id":18025171,"name":"Triumph","trackName":"Triumph","artistName":"Wu-Tang Clan","albumName":"Legend of the Wu-Tang Clan: Wu-Tang Clan's Greatest Hits","duration":337.533333,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\nAnd hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\nMockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\nFlee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\nBattle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\nTremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\nI inspect view through the future see millenium\nKilla Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\nShacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\nGraphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\nBlack Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\nRumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\nHeads by the score, take flight, incite a war\nChicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\nBehold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\nProceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\nStomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n\nWu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n\nAs the world turn, I spread like germs\nBless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\nIt's my testament to those burned\nPlay my position in the game of life standing firm\nOn foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\nTransform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\nIn a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\nIn the line of fire holdin' back, what?\nMy people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\nNiggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\nIt's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\nHerb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\nClot, we smoke pot and blow spots\nYou wanna think twice, I think not\n\nDa Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\nGuns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n\nI twist darts from the heart, tried and true\nLoot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\nCertified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\nTell your story walking\nTake cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\nRun for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\nSo I can squeeze with the advantage\nAnd get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\nCompared to mine\n\nDomino effect, arts and crafts\nParagraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n\nOn my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n\nFor all y'all to all praise to the Gods\nThe saga continues\n\nWu-Tang, Wu-Tang\nOlympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\nThe thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\nWe crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\nFor-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\nAllow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\nPocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\nTune spit the shit immortal combat sound\nThe fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\nA jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\nA death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n\nHold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\nMy orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\nMy music Sicily, rich California smell\nAn axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\nI sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n\nRighteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\nWatch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\nA thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\nPerpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n\nEscape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\nMy beats travel like a vortex\nUp your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\nMake you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\nEnter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\nLike Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n\nGetting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\nWar of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\nMany of the victims' families save they ashes\nA million names on walls, engraved in plaques\nThose who went back, received penalties for their acts\nAnother heart is torn, as close ones gone\n\nThose who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\nThe track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\nAnd leaks sounds that's heard\nNinety-three million miles away from came one\nTo represent the nation, this is a gathering\nOf the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n\nAs we engage in battle\nThe crowd now screams in rage\nThe High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\nLight is provided through sparks of energy\nFrom the mind that travels in rhyme form\nGiving sight to the blind\nThe dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\nDeath only one can save shell from\n\nThis relentless attack of the track spares none\nYo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\nLampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\nCodeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\nSalamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\nYou two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n\nBlowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\nSound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\nHands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\nHold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\nI humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\nIt's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\nWe like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\nIt's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\nRough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n\nAiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\nConnect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\nSwift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\nNew York gank adviser world tranquilizer\nJust the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\nWhile my pen blow lines ferocious\nMediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\nThen delegate the God to see God\nThe swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\nTrack truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\nMax mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\nGuaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland","syncedLyrics":"[00:22.36] I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\n[00:25.02] And hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\n[00:27.29] Mockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\n[00:29.57] Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n[00:32.79] Battle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n[00:35.41] Tremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\n[00:37.91] I inspect view through the future see millenium\n[00:40.43] Killa Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\n[00:43.39] Shacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\n[00:45.56] Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n[00:48.33] Black Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\n[00:50.93] Rumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\n[00:53.46] Heads by the score, take flight, incite a war\n[00:56.40] Chicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\n[00:58.41] Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n[01:01.55] Proceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\n[01:03.91] Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n[01:07.14] Wu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n[01:09.12] As the world turn, I spread like germs\n[01:11.58] Bless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\n[01:14.42] It's my testament to those burned\n[01:16.43] Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n[01:18.53] On foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\n[01:21.84] Transform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\n[01:25.02] In a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\n[01:27.04] In the line of fire holdin' back, what?\n[01:30.28] My people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\n[01:32.20] Niggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\n[01:34.69] It's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\n[01:37.78] Herb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\n[01:40.95] Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n[01:43.55] You wanna think twice, I think not\n[01:45.90] Da Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\n[01:48.25] Guns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n[01:51.81] I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n[01:54.49] Loot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\n[01:57.46] Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n[02:00.33] Tell your story walking\n[02:02.22] Take cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\n[02:05.14] Run for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\n[02:07.69] So I can squeeze with the advantage\n[02:10.05] And get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\n[02:13.28] Compared to mine\n[02:14.75] Domino effect, arts and crafts\n[02:17.34] Paragraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n[02:20.19] On my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n[02:22.90] For all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n[02:26.85] The saga continues\n[02:28.35] Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n[02:30.61] Olympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\n[02:33.14] The thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\n[02:35.36] We crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\n[02:37.96] For-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\n[02:40.36] Allow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\n[02:43.20] Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n[02:46.26] Tune spit the shit immortal combat sound\n[02:48.50] The fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\n[02:51.39] A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n[02:54.06] A death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n[02:56.48] Hold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\n[02:58.47] My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n[03:02.03] My music Sicily, rich California smell\n[03:04.43] An axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\n[03:06.97] I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n[03:09.36] Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\n[03:11.94] Watch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\n[03:14.76] A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n[03:17.12] Perpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n[03:19.97] Escape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\n[03:22.48] My beats travel like a vortex\n[03:24.26] Up your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\n[03:27.15] Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n[03:29.43] Enter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\n[03:32.65] Like Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n[03:35.40] Getting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\n[03:38.58] War of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\n[03:41.24] Many of the victims' families save they ashes\n[03:43.99] A million names on walls, engraved in plaques\n[03:46.43] Those who went back, received penalties for their acts\n[03:48.99] Another heart is torn, as close ones gone\n[03:51.81] Those who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\n[03:54.26] The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n[03:57.55] And leaks sounds that's heard\n[03:59.87] Ninety-three million miles away from came one\n[04:02.42] To represent the nation, this is a gathering\n[04:04.75] Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n[04:08.44] As we engage in battle\n[04:10.83] The crowd now screams in rage\n[04:12.25] The High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\n[04:14.91] Light is provided through sparks of energy\n[04:17.50] From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n[04:20.22] Giving sight to the blind\n[04:21.63] The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n[04:24.04] Death only one can save shell from\n[04:26.50] This relentless attack of the track spares none\n[04:29.29] Yo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\n[04:33.28] Lampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\n[04:35.95] Codeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\n[04:38.81] Salamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\n[04:41.14] You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n[04:43.95] Blowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\n[04:46.67] Sound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\n[04:49.49] Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n[04:52.19] Hold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\n[04:54.01] I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n[04:56.80] It's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\n[04:59.76] We like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\n[05:02.44] It's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\n[05:05.29] Rough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n[05:07.70] Aiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n[05:11.44] Connect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\n[05:13.00] Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n[05:15.67] New York gank adviser world tranquilizer\n[05:18.30] Just the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n[05:20.68] While my pen blow lines ferocious\n[05:23.59] Mediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\n[05:26.04] Then delegate the God to see God\n[05:29.00] The swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\n[05:31.22] Track truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\n[05:34.19] Max mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\n[05:37.21] Guaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland\n[05:38.53] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Triumph\n  artist: Wu-Tang Clan\n  album: 'Legend of the Wu-Tang Clan: Wu-Tang Clan''s Greatest Hits'\n  duration_ms: 337533\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\n  start_ms: 22360\n  end_ms: 25020\n- text: And hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\n  start_ms: 25020\n  end_ms: 27290\n- text: Mockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\n  start_ms: 27290\n  end_ms: 29570\n- text: Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n  start_ms: 29570\n  end_ms: 32790\n- text: Battle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n  start_ms: 32790\n  end_ms: 35410\n- text: Tremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\n  start_ms: 35410\n  end_ms: 37910\n- text: I inspect view through the future see millenium\n  start_ms: 37910\n  end_ms: 40430\n- text: Killa Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\n  start_ms: 40430\n  end_ms: 43390\n- text: Shacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\n  start_ms: 43390\n  end_ms: 45560\n- text: Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n  start_ms: 45560\n  end_ms: 48330\n- text: Black Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\n  start_ms: 48330\n  end_ms: 50930\n- text: Rumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\n  start_ms: 50930\n  end_ms: 53460\n- text: Heads by the score, take flight, incite a war\n  start_ms: 53460\n  end_ms: 56400\n- text: Chicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\n  start_ms: 56400\n  end_ms: 58410\n- text: Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n  start_ms: 58410\n  end_ms: 61550\n- text: Proceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\n  start_ms: 61550\n  end_ms: 63910\n- text: Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n  start_ms: 63910\n  end_ms: 67140\n- text: Wu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n  start_ms: 67140\n  end_ms: 69120\n- text: As the world turn, I spread like germs\n  start_ms: 69120\n  end_ms: 71580\n- text: Bless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\n  start_ms: 71580\n  end_ms: 74420\n- text: It's my testament to those burned\n  start_ms: 74420\n  end_ms: 76430\n- text: Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n  start_ms: 76430\n  end_ms: 78530\n- text: On foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\n  start_ms: 78530\n  end_ms: 81840\n- text: Transform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\n  start_ms: 81840\n  end_ms: 85020\n- text: In a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\n  start_ms: 85020\n  end_ms: 87040\n- text: In the line of fire holdin' back, what?\n  start_ms: 87040\n  end_ms: 90280\n- text: My people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\n  start_ms: 90280\n  end_ms: 92200\n- text: Niggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\n  start_ms: 92200\n  end_ms: 94690\n- text: It's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\n  start_ms: 94690\n  end_ms: 97780\n- text: Herb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\n  start_ms: 97780\n  end_ms: 100950\n- text: Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n  start_ms: 100950\n  end_ms: 103550\n- text: You wanna think twice, I think not\n  start_ms: 103550\n  end_ms: 105900\n- text: Da Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\n  start_ms: 105900\n  end_ms: 108250\n- text: Guns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n  start_ms: 108250\n  end_ms: 111810\n- text: I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n  start_ms: 111810\n  end_ms: 114490\n- text: Loot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\n  start_ms: 114490\n  end_ms: 117460\n- text: Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n  start_ms: 117460\n  end_ms: 120330\n- text: Tell your story walking\n  start_ms: 120330\n  end_ms: 122220\n- text: Take cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\n  start_ms: 122220\n  end_ms: 125140\n- text: Run for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\n  start_ms: 125140\n  end_ms: 127690\n- text: So I can squeeze with the advantage\n  start_ms: 127690\n  end_ms: 130050\n- text: And get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\n  start_ms: 130050\n  end_ms: 133280\n- text: Compared to mine\n  start_ms: 133280\n  end_ms: 134750\n- text: Domino effect, arts and crafts\n  start_ms: 134750\n  end_ms: 137340\n- text: Paragraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n  start_ms: 137340\n  end_ms: 140190\n- text: On my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n  start_ms: 140190\n  end_ms: 142900\n- text: For all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n  start_ms: 142900\n  end_ms: 146850\n- text: The saga continues\n  start_ms: 146850\n  end_ms: 148350\n- text: Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n  start_ms: 148350\n  end_ms: 150610\n- text: Olympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\n  start_ms: 150610\n  end_ms: 153140\n- text: The thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\n  start_ms: 153140\n  end_ms: 155360\n- text: We crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\n  start_ms: 155360\n  end_ms: 157960\n- text: For-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\n  start_ms: 157960\n  end_ms: 160360\n- text: Allow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\n  start_ms: 160360\n  end_ms: 163200\n- text: Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n  start_ms: 163200\n  end_ms: 166260\n- text: Tune spit the shit immortal combat sound\n  start_ms: 166260\n  end_ms: 168500\n- text: The fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\n  start_ms: 168500\n  end_ms: 171390\n- text: A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n  start_ms: 171390\n  end_ms: 174060\n- text: A death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n  start_ms: 174060\n  end_ms: 176480\n- text: Hold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\n  start_ms: 176480\n  end_ms: 178470\n- text: My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n  start_ms: 178470\n  end_ms: 182030\n- text: My music Sicily, rich California smell\n  start_ms: 182030\n  end_ms: 184430\n- text: An axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\n  start_ms: 184430\n  end_ms: 186970\n- text: I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n  start_ms: 186970\n  end_ms: 189360\n- text: Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\n  start_ms: 189360\n  end_ms: 191940\n- text: Watch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\n  start_ms: 191940\n  end_ms: 194760\n- text: A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n  start_ms: 194760\n  end_ms: 197120\n- text: Perpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n  start_ms: 197120\n  end_ms: 199970\n- text: Escape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\n  start_ms: 199970\n  end_ms: 202480\n- text: My beats travel like a vortex\n  start_ms: 202480\n  end_ms: 204260\n- text: Up your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\n  start_ms: 204260\n  end_ms: 207150\n- text: Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n  start_ms: 207150\n  end_ms: 209430\n- text: Enter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\n  start_ms: 209430\n  end_ms: 212650\n- text: Like Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n  start_ms: 212650\n  end_ms: 215400\n- text: Getting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\n  start_ms: 215400\n  end_ms: 218580\n- text: War of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\n  start_ms: 218580\n  end_ms: 221240\n- text: Many of the victims' families save they ashes\n  start_ms: 221240\n  end_ms: 223990\n- text: A million names on walls, engraved in plaques\n  start_ms: 223990\n  end_ms: 226430\n- text: Those who went back, received penalties for their acts\n  start_ms: 226430\n  end_ms: 228990\n- text: Another heart is torn, as close ones gone\n  start_ms: 228990\n  end_ms: 231810\n- text: Those who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\n  start_ms: 231810\n  end_ms: 234260\n- text: The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n  start_ms: 234260\n  end_ms: 237550\n- text: And leaks sounds that's heard\n  start_ms: 237550\n  end_ms: 239870\n- text: Ninety-three million miles away from came one\n  start_ms: 239870\n  end_ms: 242420\n- text: To represent the nation, this is a gathering\n  start_ms: 242420\n  end_ms: 244750\n- text: Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n  start_ms: 244750\n  end_ms: 248440\n- text: As we engage in battle\n  start_ms: 248440\n  end_ms: 250830\n- text: The crowd now screams in rage\n  start_ms: 250830\n  end_ms: 252250\n- text: The High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\n  start_ms: 252250\n  end_ms: 254910\n- text: Light is provided through sparks of energy\n  start_ms: 254910\n  end_ms: 257500\n- text: From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n  start_ms: 257500\n  end_ms: 260220\n- text: Giving sight to the blind\n  start_ms: 260220\n  end_ms: 261630\n- text: The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n  start_ms: 261630\n  end_ms: 264040\n- text: Death only one can save shell from\n  start_ms: 264040\n  end_ms: 266500\n- text: This relentless attack of the track spares none\n  start_ms: 266500\n  end_ms: 269290\n- text: Yo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\n  start_ms: 269290\n  end_ms: 273280\n- text: Lampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\n  start_ms: 273280\n  end_ms: 275950\n- text: Codeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\n  start_ms: 275950\n  end_ms: 278810\n- text: Salamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\n  start_ms: 278810\n  end_ms: 281140\n- text: You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n  start_ms: 281140\n  end_ms: 283950\n- text: Blowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\n  start_ms: 283950\n  end_ms: 286670\n- text: Sound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\n  start_ms: 286670\n  end_ms: 289490\n- text: Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n  start_ms: 289490\n  end_ms: 292190\n- text: Hold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\n  start_ms: 292190\n  end_ms: 294010\n- text: I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n  start_ms: 294010\n  end_ms: 296800\n- text: It's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\n  start_ms: 296800\n  end_ms: 299760\n- text: We like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\n  start_ms: 299760\n  end_ms: 302440\n- text: It's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\n  start_ms: 302440\n  end_ms: 305290\n- text: Rough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n  start_ms: 305290\n  end_ms: 307700\n- text: Aiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n  start_ms: 307700\n  end_ms: 311440\n- text: Connect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\n  start_ms: 311440\n  end_ms: 313000\n- text: Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n  start_ms: 313000\n  end_ms: 315670\n- text: New York gank adviser world tranquilizer\n  start_ms: 315670\n  end_ms: 318300\n- text: Just the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n  start_ms: 318300\n  end_ms: 320680\n- text: While my pen blow lines ferocious\n  start_ms: 320680\n  end_ms: 323590\n- text: Mediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\n  start_ms: 323590\n  end_ms: 326040\n- text: Then delegate the God to see God\n  start_ms: 326040\n  end_ms: 329000\n- text: The swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\n  start_ms: 329000\n  end_ms: 331220\n- text: Track truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\n  start_ms: 331220\n  end_ms: 334190\n- text: Max mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\n  start_ms: 334190\n  end_ms: 337210\n- text: Guaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland\n  start_ms: 337210\n  end_ms: 338530\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 338530\nplain: |-\n  I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\n  And hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\n  Mockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\n  Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n  Battle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n  Tremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\n  I inspect view through the future see millenium\n  Killa Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\n  Shacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\n  Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n  Black Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\n  Rumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\n  Heads by the score, take flight, incite a war\n  Chicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\n  Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n  Proceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\n  Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n\n  Wu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n\n  As the world turn, I spread like germs\n  Bless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\n  It's my testament to those burned\n  Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n  On foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\n  Transform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\n  In a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\n  In the line of fire holdin' back, what?\n  My people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\n  Niggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\n  It's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\n  Herb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\n  Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n  You wanna think twice, I think not\n\n  Da Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\n  Guns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n\n  I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n  Loot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\n  Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n  Tell your story walking\n  Take cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\n  Run for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\n  So I can squeeze with the advantage\n  And get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\n  Compared to mine\n\n  Domino effect, arts and crafts\n  Paragraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n\n  On my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n\n  For all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n  The saga continues\n\n  Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n  Olympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\n  The thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\n  We crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\n  For-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\n  Allow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\n  Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n  Tune spit the shit immortal combat sound\n  The fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\n  A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n  A death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n\n  Hold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\n  My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n  My music Sicily, rich California smell\n  An axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\n  I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n\n  Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\n  Watch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\n  A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n  Perpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n\n  Escape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\n  My beats travel like a vortex\n  Up your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\n  Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n  Enter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\n  Like Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n\n  Getting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\n  War of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\n  Many of the victims' families save they ashes\n  A million names on walls, engraved in plaques\n  Those who went back, received penalties for their acts\n  Another heart is torn, as close ones gone\n\n  Those who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\n  The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n  And leaks sounds that's heard\n  Ninety-three million miles away from came one\n  To represent the nation, this is a gathering\n  Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n\n  As we engage in battle\n  The crowd now screams in rage\n  The High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\n  Light is provided through sparks of energy\n  From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n  Giving sight to the blind\n  The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n  Death only one can save shell from\n\n  This relentless attack of the track spares none\n  Yo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\n  Lampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\n  Codeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\n  Salamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\n  You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n\n  Blowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\n  Sound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\n  Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n  Hold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\n  I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n  It's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\n  We like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\n  It's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\n  Rough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n\n  Aiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n  Connect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\n  Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n  New York gank adviser world tranquilizer\n  Just the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n  While my pen blow lines ferocious\n  Mediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\n  Then delegate the God to see God\n  The swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\n  Track truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\n  Max mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\n  Guaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland\n"},{"id":16316116,"name":"Triumph","trackName":"Triumph","artistName":"Wu‐Tang Clan","albumName":"Legend of the Wu‐Tang Clan: Wu-Tang Clan’s Greatest Hits","duration":337.5836,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\nAnd hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\nMockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\nFlee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\nBattle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\nTremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\nI inspect view through the future see millenium\nKilla Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\nShacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\nGraphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\nBlack Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\nRumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\nHeads by the score, take flight, incite a war\nChicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\nBehold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\nProceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\nStomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n\nWu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n\nAs the world turn, I spread like germs\nBless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\nIt's my testament to those burned\nPlay my position in the game of life standing firm\nOn foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\nTransform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\nIn a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\nIn the line of fire holdin' back, what?\nMy people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\nNiggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\nIt's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\nHerb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\nClot, we smoke pot and blow spots\nYou wanna think twice, I think not\n\nDa Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\nGuns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n\nI twist darts from the heart, tried and true\nLoot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\nCertified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\nTell your story walking\nTake cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\nRun for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\nSo I can squeeze with the advantage\nAnd get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\nCompared to mine\n\nDomino effect, arts and crafts\nParagraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n\nOn my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n\nFor all y'all to all praise to the Gods\nThe saga continues\n\nWu-Tang, Wu-Tang\nOlympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\nThe thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\nWe crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\nFor-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\nAllow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\nPocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\nTune spit the shit immortal combat sound\nThe fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\nA jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\nA death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n\nHold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\nMy orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\nMy music Sicily, rich California smell\nAn axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\nI sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n\nRighteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\nWatch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\nA thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\nPerpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n\nEscape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\nMy beats travel like a vortex\nUp your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\nMake you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\nEnter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\nLike Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n\nGetting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\nWar of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\nMany of the victims' families save they ashes\nA million names on walls, engraved in plaques\nThose who went back, received penalties for their acts\nAnother heart is torn, as close ones gone\n\nThose who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\nThe track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\nAnd leaks sounds that's heard\nNinety-three million miles away from came one\nTo represent the nation, this is a gathering\nOf the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n\nAs we engage in battle\nThe crowd now screams in rage\nThe High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\nLight is provided through sparks of energy\nFrom the mind that travels in rhyme form\nGiving sight to the blind\nThe dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\nDeath only one can save shell from\n\nThis relentless attack of the track spares none\nYo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\nLampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\nCodeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\nSalamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\nYou two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n\nBlowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\nSound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\nHands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\nHold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\nI humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\nIt's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\nWe like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\nIt's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\nRough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n\nAiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\nConnect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\nSwift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\nNew York gank adviser world tranquilizer\nJust the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\nWhile my pen blow lines ferocious\nMediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\nThen delegate the God to see God\nThe swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\nTrack truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\nMax mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\nGuaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland","syncedLyrics":"[00:22.36] I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\n[00:25.07] And hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\n[00:27.26] Mockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\n[00:29.51] Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n[00:32.77] Battle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n[00:35.42] Tremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\n[00:37.99] I inspect view through the future see millenium\n[00:40.44] Killa Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\n[00:43.32] Shacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\n[00:45.57] Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n[00:48.40] Black Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\n[00:50.90] Rumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\n[00:53.42] Heads by the score, take flight, incite a war\n[00:56.42] Chicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\n[00:58.42] Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n[01:01.51] Proceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\n[01:03.99] Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n[01:07.16] Wu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n[01:09.16] As the world turn, I spread like germs\n[01:11.55] Bless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\n[01:14.42] It's my testament to those burned\n[01:16.47] Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n[01:18.52] On foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\n[01:21.83] Transform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\n[01:25.05] In a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\n[01:27.04] In the line of fire holdin' back, what?\n[01:30.21] My people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\n[01:32.25] Niggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\n[01:34.69] It's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\n[01:37.73] Herb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\n[01:40.96] Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n[01:43.56] You wanna think twice, I think not\n[01:45.90] Da Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\n[01:48.22] Guns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n[01:51.86] I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n[01:54.47] Loot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\n[01:57.46] Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n[02:00.37] Tell your story walking\n[02:02.20] Take cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\n[02:05.17] Run for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\n[02:07.64] So I can squeeze with the advantage\n[02:10.01] And get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\n[02:13.27] Compared to mine\n[02:14.76] Domino effect, arts and crafts\n[02:17.32] Paragraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n[02:20.10] On my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n[02:22.86] For all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n[02:26.81] The saga continues\n[02:28.38] Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n[02:30.61] Olympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\n[02:33.17] The thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\n[02:35.38] We crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\n[02:37.99] For-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\n[02:40.38] Allow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\n[02:43.20] Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n[02:46.23] Tune spit the shit immortal combat sound\n[02:48.51] The fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\n[02:51.31] A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n[02:54.08] A death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n[02:56.40] Hold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\n[02:58.46] My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n[03:02.06] My music Sicily, rich California smell\n[03:04.46] An axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\n[03:06.95] I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n[03:09.38] Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\n[03:11.92] Watch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\n[03:14.72] A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n[03:17.14] Perpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n[03:19.99] Escape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\n[03:22.43] My beats travel like a vortex\n[03:24.20] Up your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\n[03:27.12] Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n[03:29.43] Enter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\n[03:32.69] Like Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n[03:35.47] Getting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\n[03:38.55] War of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\n[03:41.29] Many of the victims' families save they ashes\n[03:43.93] A million names on walls, engraved in plaques\n[03:46.47] Those who went back, received penalties for their acts\n[03:48.97] Another heart is torn, as close ones gone\n[03:51.85] Those who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\n[03:54.24] The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n[03:57.55] And leaks sounds that's heard\n[03:59.84] Ninety-three million miles away from came one\n[04:02.40] To represent the nation, this is a gathering\n[04:04.76] Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n[04:08.48] As we engage in battle\n[04:10.82] The crowd now screams in rage\n[04:12.29] The High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\n[04:14.96] Light is provided through sparks of energy\n[04:17.51] From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n[04:20.24] Giving sight to the blind\n[04:21.62] The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n[04:24.08] Death only one can save shell from\n[04:26.50] This relentless attack of the track spares none\n[04:29.30] Yo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\n[04:33.30] Lampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\n[04:35.92] Codeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\n[04:38.84] Salamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\n[04:41.19] You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n[04:43.96] Blowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\n[04:46.65] Sound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\n[04:49.40] Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n[04:52.20] Hold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\n[04:54.03] I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n[04:56.79] It's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\n[04:59.75] We like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\n[05:02.42] It's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\n[05:05.21] Rough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n[05:07.63] Aiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n[05:11.50] Connect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\n[05:13.07] Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n[05:15.66] New York gank adviser world tranquilizer\n[05:18.25] Just the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n[05:20.62] While my pen blow lines ferocious\n[05:23.55] Mediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\n[05:26.00] Then delegate the God to see God\n[05:29.08] The swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\n[05:31.27] Track truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\n[05:34.18] Max mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\n[05:37.24] Guaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland\n[05:38.59] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Triumph\n  artist: Wu‐Tang Clan\n  album: 'Legend of the Wu‐Tang Clan: Wu-Tang Clan’s Greatest Hits'\n  duration_ms: 337584\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\n  start_ms: 22360\n  end_ms: 25070\n- text: And hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\n  start_ms: 25070\n  end_ms: 27260\n- text: Mockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\n  start_ms: 27260\n  end_ms: 29510\n- text: Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n  start_ms: 29510\n  end_ms: 32770\n- text: Battle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n  start_ms: 32770\n  end_ms: 35420\n- text: Tremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\n  start_ms: 35420\n  end_ms: 37990\n- text: I inspect view through the future see millenium\n  start_ms: 37990\n  end_ms: 40440\n- text: Killa Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\n  start_ms: 40440\n  end_ms: 43320\n- text: Shacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\n  start_ms: 43320\n  end_ms: 45570\n- text: Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n  start_ms: 45570\n  end_ms: 48400\n- text: Black Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\n  start_ms: 48400\n  end_ms: 50900\n- text: Rumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\n  start_ms: 50900\n  end_ms: 53420\n- text: Heads by the score, take flight, incite a war\n  start_ms: 53420\n  end_ms: 56420\n- text: Chicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\n  start_ms: 56420\n  end_ms: 58420\n- text: Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n  start_ms: 58420\n  end_ms: 61510\n- text: Proceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\n  start_ms: 61510\n  end_ms: 63990\n- text: Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n  start_ms: 63990\n  end_ms: 67160\n- text: Wu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n  start_ms: 67160\n  end_ms: 69160\n- text: As the world turn, I spread like germs\n  start_ms: 69160\n  end_ms: 71550\n- text: Bless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\n  start_ms: 71550\n  end_ms: 74420\n- text: It's my testament to those burned\n  start_ms: 74420\n  end_ms: 76470\n- text: Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n  start_ms: 76470\n  end_ms: 78520\n- text: On foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\n  start_ms: 78520\n  end_ms: 81830\n- text: Transform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\n  start_ms: 81830\n  end_ms: 85050\n- text: In a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\n  start_ms: 85050\n  end_ms: 87040\n- text: In the line of fire holdin' back, what?\n  start_ms: 87040\n  end_ms: 90210\n- text: My people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\n  start_ms: 90210\n  end_ms: 92250\n- text: Niggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\n  start_ms: 92250\n  end_ms: 94690\n- text: It's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\n  start_ms: 94690\n  end_ms: 97730\n- text: Herb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\n  start_ms: 97730\n  end_ms: 100960\n- text: Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n  start_ms: 100960\n  end_ms: 103560\n- text: You wanna think twice, I think not\n  start_ms: 103560\n  end_ms: 105900\n- text: Da Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\n  start_ms: 105900\n  end_ms: 108220\n- text: Guns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n  start_ms: 108220\n  end_ms: 111860\n- text: I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n  start_ms: 111860\n  end_ms: 114470\n- text: Loot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\n  start_ms: 114470\n  end_ms: 117460\n- text: Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n  start_ms: 117460\n  end_ms: 120370\n- text: Tell your story walking\n  start_ms: 120370\n  end_ms: 122200\n- text: Take cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\n  start_ms: 122200\n  end_ms: 125170\n- text: Run for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\n  start_ms: 125170\n  end_ms: 127640\n- text: So I can squeeze with the advantage\n  start_ms: 127640\n  end_ms: 130010\n- text: And get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\n  start_ms: 130010\n  end_ms: 133270\n- text: Compared to mine\n  start_ms: 133270\n  end_ms: 134760\n- text: Domino effect, arts and crafts\n  start_ms: 134760\n  end_ms: 137320\n- text: Paragraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n  start_ms: 137320\n  end_ms: 140100\n- text: On my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n  start_ms: 140100\n  end_ms: 142860\n- text: For all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n  start_ms: 142860\n  end_ms: 146810\n- text: The saga continues\n  start_ms: 146810\n  end_ms: 148380\n- text: Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n  start_ms: 148380\n  end_ms: 150610\n- text: Olympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\n  start_ms: 150610\n  end_ms: 153170\n- text: The thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\n  start_ms: 153170\n  end_ms: 155380\n- text: We crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\n  start_ms: 155380\n  end_ms: 157990\n- text: For-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\n  start_ms: 157990\n  end_ms: 160380\n- text: Allow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\n  start_ms: 160380\n  end_ms: 163200\n- text: Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n  start_ms: 163200\n  end_ms: 166230\n- text: Tune spit the shit immortal combat sound\n  start_ms: 166230\n  end_ms: 168510\n- text: The fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\n  start_ms: 168510\n  end_ms: 171310\n- text: A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n  start_ms: 171310\n  end_ms: 174080\n- text: A death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n  start_ms: 174080\n  end_ms: 176400\n- text: Hold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\n  start_ms: 176400\n  end_ms: 178460\n- text: My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n  start_ms: 178460\n  end_ms: 182060\n- text: My music Sicily, rich California smell\n  start_ms: 182060\n  end_ms: 184460\n- text: An axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\n  start_ms: 184460\n  end_ms: 186950\n- text: I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n  start_ms: 186950\n  end_ms: 189380\n- text: Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\n  start_ms: 189380\n  end_ms: 191920\n- text: Watch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\n  start_ms: 191920\n  end_ms: 194720\n- text: A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n  start_ms: 194720\n  end_ms: 197140\n- text: Perpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n  start_ms: 197140\n  end_ms: 199990\n- text: Escape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\n  start_ms: 199990\n  end_ms: 202430\n- text: My beats travel like a vortex\n  start_ms: 202430\n  end_ms: 204200\n- text: Up your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\n  start_ms: 204200\n  end_ms: 207120\n- text: Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n  start_ms: 207120\n  end_ms: 209430\n- text: Enter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\n  start_ms: 209430\n  end_ms: 212690\n- text: Like Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n  start_ms: 212690\n  end_ms: 215470\n- text: Getting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\n  start_ms: 215470\n  end_ms: 218550\n- text: War of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\n  start_ms: 218550\n  end_ms: 221290\n- text: Many of the victims' families save they ashes\n  start_ms: 221290\n  end_ms: 223930\n- text: A million names on walls, engraved in plaques\n  start_ms: 223930\n  end_ms: 226470\n- text: Those who went back, received penalties for their acts\n  start_ms: 226470\n  end_ms: 228970\n- text: Another heart is torn, as close ones gone\n  start_ms: 228970\n  end_ms: 231850\n- text: Those who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\n  start_ms: 231850\n  end_ms: 234240\n- text: The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n  start_ms: 234240\n  end_ms: 237550\n- text: And leaks sounds that's heard\n  start_ms: 237550\n  end_ms: 239840\n- text: Ninety-three million miles away from came one\n  start_ms: 239840\n  end_ms: 242400\n- text: To represent the nation, this is a gathering\n  start_ms: 242400\n  end_ms: 244760\n- text: Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n  start_ms: 244760\n  end_ms: 248480\n- text: As we engage in battle\n  start_ms: 248480\n  end_ms: 250820\n- text: The crowd now screams in rage\n  start_ms: 250820\n  end_ms: 252290\n- text: The High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\n  start_ms: 252290\n  end_ms: 254960\n- text: Light is provided through sparks of energy\n  start_ms: 254960\n  end_ms: 257510\n- text: From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n  start_ms: 257510\n  end_ms: 260240\n- text: Giving sight to the blind\n  start_ms: 260240\n  end_ms: 261620\n- text: The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n  start_ms: 261620\n  end_ms: 264080\n- text: Death only one can save shell from\n  start_ms: 264080\n  end_ms: 266500\n- text: This relentless attack of the track spares none\n  start_ms: 266500\n  end_ms: 269300\n- text: Yo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\n  start_ms: 269300\n  end_ms: 273300\n- text: Lampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\n  start_ms: 273300\n  end_ms: 275920\n- text: Codeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\n  start_ms: 275920\n  end_ms: 278840\n- text: Salamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\n  start_ms: 278840\n  end_ms: 281190\n- text: You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n  start_ms: 281190\n  end_ms: 283960\n- text: Blowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\n  start_ms: 283960\n  end_ms: 286650\n- text: Sound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\n  start_ms: 286650\n  end_ms: 289400\n- text: Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n  start_ms: 289400\n  end_ms: 292200\n- text: Hold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\n  start_ms: 292200\n  end_ms: 294030\n- text: I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n  start_ms: 294030\n  end_ms: 296790\n- text: It's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\n  start_ms: 296790\n  end_ms: 299750\n- text: We like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\n  start_ms: 299750\n  end_ms: 302420\n- text: It's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\n  start_ms: 302420\n  end_ms: 305210\n- text: Rough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n  start_ms: 305210\n  end_ms: 307630\n- text: Aiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n  start_ms: 307630\n  end_ms: 311500\n- text: Connect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\n  start_ms: 311500\n  end_ms: 313070\n- text: Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n  start_ms: 313070\n  end_ms: 315660\n- text: New York gank adviser world tranquilizer\n  start_ms: 315660\n  end_ms: 318250\n- text: Just the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n  start_ms: 318250\n  end_ms: 320620\n- text: While my pen blow lines ferocious\n  start_ms: 320620\n  end_ms: 323550\n- text: Mediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\n  start_ms: 323550\n  end_ms: 326000\n- text: Then delegate the God to see God\n  start_ms: 326000\n  end_ms: 329080\n- text: The swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\n  start_ms: 329080\n  end_ms: 331270\n- text: Track truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\n  start_ms: 331270\n  end_ms: 334180\n- text: Max mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\n  start_ms: 334180\n  end_ms: 337240\n- text: Guaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland\n  start_ms: 337240\n  end_ms: 338590\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 338590\nplain: |-\n  I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\n  And hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\n  Mockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\n  Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n  Battle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n  Tremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\n  I inspect view through the future see millenium\n  Killa Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\n  Shacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\n  Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n  Black Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\n  Rumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\n  Heads by the score, take flight, incite a war\n  Chicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\n  Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n  Proceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\n  Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n\n  Wu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n\n  As the world turn, I spread like germs\n  Bless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\n  It's my testament to those burned\n  Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n  On foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\n  Transform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\n  In a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\n  In the line of fire holdin' back, what?\n  My people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\n  Niggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\n  It's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\n  Herb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\n  Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n  You wanna think twice, I think not\n\n  Da Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\n  Guns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n\n  I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n  Loot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\n  Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n  Tell your story walking\n  Take cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\n  Run for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\n  So I can squeeze with the advantage\n  And get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\n  Compared to mine\n\n  Domino effect, arts and crafts\n  Paragraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n\n  On my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n\n  For all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n  The saga continues\n\n  Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n  Olympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\n  The thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\n  We crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\n  For-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\n  Allow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\n  Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n  Tune spit the shit immortal combat sound\n  The fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\n  A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n  A death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n\n  Hold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\n  My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n  My music Sicily, rich California smell\n  An axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\n  I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n\n  Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\n  Watch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\n  A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n  Perpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n\n  Escape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\n  My beats travel like a vortex\n  Up your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\n  Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n  Enter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\n  Like Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n\n  Getting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\n  War of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\n  Many of the victims' families save they ashes\n  A million names on walls, engraved in plaques\n  Those who went back, received penalties for their acts\n  Another heart is torn, as close ones gone\n\n  Those who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\n  The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n  And leaks sounds that's heard\n  Ninety-three million miles away from came one\n  To represent the nation, this is a gathering\n  Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n\n  As we engage in battle\n  The crowd now screams in rage\n  The High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\n  Light is provided through sparks of energy\n  From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n  Giving sight to the blind\n  The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n  Death only one can save shell from\n\n  This relentless attack of the track spares none\n  Yo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\n  Lampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\n  Codeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\n  Salamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\n  You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n\n  Blowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\n  Sound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\n  Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n  Hold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\n  I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n  It's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\n  We like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\n  It's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\n  Rough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n\n  Aiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n  Connect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\n  Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n  New York gank adviser world tranquilizer\n  Just the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n  While my pen blow lines ferocious\n  Mediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\n  Then delegate the God to see God\n  The swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\n  Track truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\n  Max mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\n  Guaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland\n"},{"id":38321767,"name":"Triumph","trackName":"Triumph","artistName":"Wu‐Tang Clan Cappadonna","albumName":"The Essential Wu‐Tang Clan","duration":338.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"What y'all thought y'all wasn't gonna see me?\nI'm the Osiris of this shit\nWu-Tang is here forever, motherfuckers\nThis '97\nA'ight, my niggas and my niggarettes\nLet's do it like this\nI'ma rub your ass in the moonshine\nLet's take it back to '79\n\nI bomb atomically\nSocrates' philosophies and hypotheses\nCan't define how I be dropping these mockeries\nLyrically perform armed robbery\nFlee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\nBattle-scarred Shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n\nTremendous, ultraviolet shine blind forensics\nI inspect you, through the future see millennium\nKiller Bees sold fifty gold, sixty platinum\nShackling the masses with drastic rap tactics\nGraphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\nBlack Wu jackets Queen B's ease the guns in\nRumble with patrolmen, tear gas laced the function\nHeads by the score take flight incite a war\nChicks hit the floor, die hard fans demand more\nBehold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\nProceeds to blow, swinging swords like Shinobi\nStomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\nWu got it locked, performing live on your hottest block\n\nAs the world turns, I spread like germs\nBless the globe with the pestilence\nThe hard-headed never learn\nIt's my testament to those burned\nPlay my position in the game of life standing firm\nOn foreign land jump the gun out the frying pan into the fire\nTransform into the Ghost Rider\nA six-pack and a streetcar named desire\nWho got my back in the line of fire holding back what\nMy peoples if you with me where the fuck you at\nNiggas is strapped and they trying to twist my beer cap\nIs court adjourned for the bad seed from bad sperm\nHerb got my wig fried like a bad perm, what the blood\nClot, we smoke pot and blow spots\nYou want to think twice, I think not\nThe Iron Lung ain't got to tell you where it's coming from\nGuns of Navarone, tearing up your battle zone\nRip through your slums\n\nI twist darts from the heart, tried and true\nLoop my voice on the LP, martini on the slang rocks\nCertified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\nTell your story walking\nTake cover, kid, what?\nRun for your brother kid\nRun for your team and your six camp rhyme groupies\nSo I can squeeze with the advantage and get wasted\nMy deadly notes reigns supreme\nYour fort is basic compared to mine\nDomino effect, arts and crafts\nParagraphs contain cyanide\nTake a free ride on my thought I got the fashion\nCatalogs for all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n\nThe saga continues\nWu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n\nOlympic torch flaming, we burn so sweet\nThe thrill of victory, the agony defeat\nWe crush slow, flaming deluxe slow\nFor judgment day cometh, conquer it's war\nAllow us to escape, hell glow spinning bomb\nPocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\nTunes split the shitty Mortal Kombat sound\nThe fateful step make, the blood stain the ground\nA jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\nA death kiss, catwalk, squeeze another anthem\nHold it for ransom, tranquilized with anesthesia\nMy orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\nMy music Sicily, rich California smell\nThe axe kill adventure, paint a picture well\nI sing a song from Sing-Sing, sipping on ginseng\nRighteous wax chaperone, rotating ring kings\n\nMarch of the wooden soldiers\nC-Cypher-Punks couldn't hold us\nA thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\nPerpendicular to the square we stamp gold like Fleer\nEscape from your dragon's lair in particular\nMy beats travel like a vortex through your spine\nTo the top of your cerebral cortex\nMake you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\nEnter through your right ventricle clog up your bloodstream\nNow terminal like Grand Central Station\nProgram fat baselines on Novation\nGetting drunk like a fuck, I'm ducking five-year probation\n\nWar of the masses, the outcome disastrous\nMany of the victim family save they ashes\nA million names on walls engraved in plaques\nThose who went back received penalties for their acts\nAnother heart is torn as close ones mourn\nThose who stray, niggas get slayed on the song\n\nThe track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\nAnd leaks sounds that's heard\n93 million miles away from came one\nTo represent the Nation, this is a gathering\nOf the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\nAs we engage in battle, the crowd now screams in rage\nThe high chief Jamel Arief takes the stage\nLight is provided through sparks of energy\nFrom the mind that travels in rhyme form\nGiving sight to the blind\nThe dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\nDeath only one can save self from\nThis relentless attack of the track spares none\n\nYo-yo-yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggas laid back\nLamping like them gray and black Puma's on my man's rack\nCodeine was forced in your drink\nYou had a Navy green salamander fiend, bitches overheard you scream\nYou two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\nBlowing like Shalamar in 81\nSound convincing, thousand dollar cord by convention\nHands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\nHold the fuck up, I'll unfasten your wig, bad luck\nI humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\nIt's me, black, Noble Drew Ali\nCame in threes we like the Genovese, is that so\nCaesar needs the greens, it's Earth\nNinety-three million miles from the first\nRough turbulence, the wave burst, split the megahertz\n\nAyy-yo that's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\nConnect thoughts to make my man child walk\nSwift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\nNew York Yank visor world tranquilizer\nJust a dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\nWhile my pen blow lines ferocious\nMediterranean, see y'all, the number one draft pick\nTear down the beat God, then delegate the God to see God\nThe swift chancellor, flex the white gold tarantula\nTrack truck diesel, play the weed God substantiala\nMax mostly, undivided then slide in sickening\nGuaranteed made 'em jump like Rod Strickland","syncedLyrics":"[00:03.08]What y'all thought y'all wasn't gonna see me?\n[00:06.64]I'm the Osiris of this shit\n[00:08.68]Wu-Tang is here forever, motherfuckers\n[00:10.12]This '97\n[00:12.65]A'ight, my niggas and my niggarettes\n[00:14.96]Let's do it like this\n[00:17.61]I'ma rub your ass in the moonshine\n[00:18.55]Let's take it back to '79\n[00:21.05]I bomb atomically\n[00:22.23]Socrates' philosophies and hypotheses\n[00:24.88]Can't define how I be dropping these mockeries\n[00:27.14]Lyrically perform armed robbery\n[00:29.19]Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n[00:29.72]Battle-scarred Shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n[00:34.24]Tremendous, ultraviolet shine blind forensics\n[00:37.08]I inspect you, through the future see millennium\n[00:39.65]Killer Bees sold fifty gold, sixty platinum\n[00:42.23]Shackling the masses with drastic rap tactics\n[00:44.93]Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n[00:47.58]Black Wu jackets Queen B's ease the guns in\n[00:50.25]Rumble with patrolmen, tear gas laced the function\n[00:52.85]Heads by the score take flight incite a war\n[00:55.17]Chicks hit the floor, die hard fans demand more\n[00:57.92]Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n[01:00.71]Proceeds to blow, swinging swords like Shinobi\n[01:03.31]Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n[01:05.84]Wu got it locked, performing live on your hottest block\n[01:08.36]As the world turns, I spread like germs\n[01:11.73]Bless the globe with the pestilence\n[01:13.22]The hard-headed never learn\n[01:14.63]It's my testament to those burned\n[01:15.41]Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n[01:18.07]On foreign land jump the gun out the frying pan into the fire\n[01:21.52]Transform into the Ghost Rider\n[01:23.43]A six-pack and a streetcar named desire\n[01:26.03]Who got my back in the line of fire holding back what\n[01:28.98]My peoples if you with me where the fuck you at\n[01:31.25]Niggas is strapped and they trying to twist my beer cap\n[01:33.99]Is court adjourned for the bad seed from bad sperm\n[01:36.74]Herb got my wig fried like a bad perm, what the blood\n[01:40.39]Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n[01:42.57]You want to think twice, I think not\n[01:44.58]The Iron Lung ain't got to tell you where it's coming from\n[01:47.18]Guns of Navarone, tearing up your battle zone\n[01:49.60]Rip through your slums\n[01:50.63]I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n[01:53.17]Loop my voice on the LP, martini on the slang rocks\n[01:56.56]Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n[01:59.86]Tell your story walking\n[02:01.21]Take cover, kid, what?\n[02:02.84]Run for your brother kid\n[02:04.12]Run for your team and your six camp rhyme groupies\n[02:06.97]So I can squeeze with the advantage and get wasted\n[02:10.51]My deadly notes reigns supreme\n[02:13.45]Your fort is basic compared to mine\n[02:14.68]Domino effect, arts and crafts\n[02:16.63]Paragraphs contain cyanide\n[02:18.69]Take a free ride on my thought I got the fashion\n[02:21.25]Catalogs for all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n[02:24.36]The saga continues\n[02:25.92]Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n[02:27.68]Olympic torch flaming, we burn so sweet\n[02:30.27]The thrill of victory, the agony defeat\n[02:32.89]We crush slow, flaming deluxe slow\n[02:35.21]For judgment day cometh, conquer it's war\n[02:38.20]Allow us to escape, hell glow spinning bomb\n[02:40.93]Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n[02:43.59]Tunes split the shitty Mortal Kombat sound\n[02:46.06]The fateful step make, the blood stain the ground\n[02:48.72]A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n[02:51.33]A death kiss, catwalk, squeeze another anthem\n[02:53.95]Hold it for ransom, tranquilized with anesthesia\n[02:56.60]My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n[02:59.21]My music Sicily, rich California smell\n[03:01.94]The axe kill adventure, paint a picture well\n[03:04.50]I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sipping on ginseng\n[03:07.34]Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring kings\n[03:10.62]March of the wooden soldiers\n[03:12.47]C-Cypher-Punks couldn't hold us\n[03:13.61]A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n[03:14.83]Perpendicular to the square we stamp gold like Fleer\n[03:17.72]Escape from your dragon's lair in particular\n[03:20.23]My beats travel like a vortex through your spine\n[03:22.81]To the top of your cerebral cortex\n[03:24.74]Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n[03:27.08]Enter through your right ventricle clog up your bloodstream\n[03:30.40]Now terminal like Grand Central Station\n[03:31.68]Program fat baselines on Novation\n[03:33.48]Getting drunk like a fuck, I'm ducking five-year probation\n[03:36.35]War of the masses, the outcome disastrous\n[03:39.04]Many of the victim family save they ashes\n[03:41.59]A million names on walls engraved in plaques\n[03:43.94]Those who went back received penalties for their acts\n[03:46.71]Another heart is torn as close ones mourn\n[03:49.39]Those who stray, niggas get slayed on the song\n[03:51.95]The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n[03:55.32]And leaks sounds that's heard\n[03:58.32]93 million miles away from came one\n[03:59.94]To represent the Nation, this is a gathering\n[04:02.78]Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n[04:06.74]As we engage in battle, the crowd now screams in rage\n[04:10.48]The high chief Jamel Arief takes the stage\n[04:13.24]Light is provided through sparks of energy\n[04:15.54]From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n[04:18.20]Giving sight to the blind\n[04:19.79]The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n[04:22.45]Death only one can save self from\n[04:24.74]This relentless attack of the track spares none\n[04:28.01]Yo-yo-yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggas laid back\n[04:31.63]Lamping like them gray and black Puma's on my man's rack\n[04:35.66]Codeine was forced in your drink\n[04:37.35]You had a Navy green salamander fiend, bitches overheard you scream\n[04:39.45]You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n[04:42.50]Blowing like Shalamar in 81\n[04:44.36]Sound convincing, thousand dollar cord by convention\n[04:47.31]Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n[04:49.89]Hold the fuck up, I'll unfasten your wig, bad luck\n[04:52.46]I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n[04:55.18]It's me, black, Noble Drew Ali\n[04:58.67]Came in threes we like the Genovese, is that so\n[05:00.72]Caesar needs the greens, it's Earth\n[05:02.32]Ninety-three million miles from the first\n[05:02.97]Rough turbulence, the wave burst, split the megahertz\n[05:06.46]Ayy-yo that's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n[05:08.74]Connect thoughts to make my man child walk\n[05:12.26]Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n[05:14.01]New York Yank visor world tranquilizer\n[05:17.27]Just a dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n[05:19.08]While my pen blow lines ferocious\n[05:22.06]Mediterranean, see y'all, the number one draft pick\n[05:23.95]Tear down the beat God, then delegate the God to see God\n[05:26.53]The swift chancellor, flex the white gold tarantula\n[05:29.44]Track truck diesel, play the weed God substantiala\n[05:32.00]Max mostly, undivided then slide in sickening\n[05:35.38]Guaranteed made 'em jump like Rod Strickland\n[05:37.54]","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Triumph\n  artist: Wu‐Tang Clan Cappadonna\n  album: The Essential Wu‐Tang Clan\n  duration_ms: 338000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: What y'all thought y'all wasn't gonna see me?\n  start_ms: 3080\n  end_ms: 6640\n- text: I'm the Osiris of this shit\n  start_ms: 6640\n  end_ms: 8680\n- text: Wu-Tang is here forever, motherfuckers\n  start_ms: 8680\n  end_ms: 10120\n- text: This '97\n  start_ms: 10120\n  end_ms: 12650\n- text: A'ight, my niggas and my niggarettes\n  start_ms: 12650\n  end_ms: 14960\n- text: Let's do it like this\n  start_ms: 14960\n  end_ms: 17610\n- text: I'ma rub your ass in the moonshine\n  start_ms: 17610\n  end_ms: 18550\n- text: Let's take it back to '79\n  start_ms: 18550\n  end_ms: 21050\n- text: I bomb atomically\n  start_ms: 21050\n  end_ms: 22230\n- text: Socrates' philosophies and hypotheses\n  start_ms: 22230\n  end_ms: 24880\n- text: Can't define how I be dropping these mockeries\n  start_ms: 24880\n  end_ms: 27140\n- text: Lyrically perform armed robbery\n  start_ms: 27140\n  end_ms: 29190\n- text: Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n  start_ms: 29190\n  end_ms: 29720\n- text: Battle-scarred Shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n  start_ms: 29720\n  end_ms: 34240\n- text: Tremendous, ultraviolet shine blind forensics\n  start_ms: 34240\n  end_ms: 37080\n- text: I inspect you, through the future see millennium\n  start_ms: 37080\n  end_ms: 39650\n- text: Killer Bees sold fifty gold, sixty platinum\n  start_ms: 39650\n  end_ms: 42230\n- text: Shackling the masses with drastic rap tactics\n  start_ms: 42230\n  end_ms: 44930\n- text: Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n  start_ms: 44930\n  end_ms: 47580\n- text: Black Wu jackets Queen B's ease the guns in\n  start_ms: 47580\n  end_ms: 50250\n- text: Rumble with patrolmen, tear gas laced the function\n  start_ms: 50250\n  end_ms: 52850\n- text: Heads by the score take flight incite a war\n  start_ms: 52850\n  end_ms: 55170\n- text: Chicks hit the floor, die hard fans demand more\n  start_ms: 55170\n  end_ms: 57920\n- text: Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n  start_ms: 57920\n  end_ms: 60710\n- text: Proceeds to blow, swinging swords like Shinobi\n  start_ms: 60710\n  end_ms: 63310\n- text: Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n  start_ms: 63310\n  end_ms: 65840\n- text: Wu got it locked, performing live on your hottest block\n  start_ms: 65840\n  end_ms: 68360\n- text: As the world turns, I spread like germs\n  start_ms: 68360\n  end_ms: 71730\n- text: Bless the globe with the pestilence\n  start_ms: 71730\n  end_ms: 73220\n- text: The hard-headed never learn\n  start_ms: 73220\n  end_ms: 74630\n- text: It's my testament to those burned\n  start_ms: 74630\n  end_ms: 75410\n- text: Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n  start_ms: 75410\n  end_ms: 78070\n- text: On foreign land jump the gun out the frying pan into the fire\n  start_ms: 78070\n  end_ms: 81520\n- text: Transform into the Ghost Rider\n  start_ms: 81520\n  end_ms: 83430\n- text: A six-pack and a streetcar named desire\n  start_ms: 83430\n  end_ms: 86030\n- text: Who got my back in the line of fire holding back what\n  start_ms: 86030\n  end_ms: 88980\n- text: My peoples if you with me where the fuck you at\n  start_ms: 88980\n  end_ms: 91250\n- text: Niggas is strapped and they trying to twist my beer cap\n  start_ms: 91250\n  end_ms: 93990\n- text: Is court adjourned for the bad seed from bad sperm\n  start_ms: 93990\n  end_ms: 96740\n- text: Herb got my wig fried like a bad perm, what the blood\n  start_ms: 96740\n  end_ms: 100390\n- text: Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n  start_ms: 100390\n  end_ms: 102570\n- text: You want to think twice, I think not\n  start_ms: 102570\n  end_ms: 104580\n- text: The Iron Lung ain't got to tell you where it's coming from\n  start_ms: 104580\n  end_ms: 107180\n- text: Guns of Navarone, tearing up your battle zone\n  start_ms: 107180\n  end_ms: 109600\n- text: Rip through your slums\n  start_ms: 109600\n  end_ms: 110630\n- text: I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n  start_ms: 110630\n  end_ms: 113170\n- text: Loop my voice on the LP, martini on the slang rocks\n  start_ms: 113170\n  end_ms: 116560\n- text: Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n  start_ms: 116560\n  end_ms: 119860\n- text: Tell your story walking\n  start_ms: 119860\n  end_ms: 121210\n- text: Take cover, kid, what?\n  start_ms: 121210\n  end_ms: 122840\n- text: Run for your brother kid\n  start_ms: 122840\n  end_ms: 124120\n- text: Run for your team and your six camp rhyme groupies\n  start_ms: 124120\n  end_ms: 126970\n- text: So I can squeeze with the advantage and get wasted\n  start_ms: 126970\n  end_ms: 130510\n- text: My deadly notes reigns supreme\n  start_ms: 130510\n  end_ms: 133450\n- text: Your fort is basic compared to mine\n  start_ms: 133450\n  end_ms: 134680\n- text: Domino effect, arts and crafts\n  start_ms: 134680\n  end_ms: 136630\n- text: Paragraphs contain cyanide\n  start_ms: 136630\n  end_ms: 138690\n- text: Take a free ride on my thought I got the fashion\n  start_ms: 138690\n  end_ms: 141250\n- text: Catalogs for all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n  start_ms: 141250\n  end_ms: 144360\n- text: The saga continues\n  start_ms: 144360\n  end_ms: 145920\n- text: Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n  start_ms: 145920\n  end_ms: 147680\n- text: Olympic torch flaming, we burn so sweet\n  start_ms: 147680\n  end_ms: 150270\n- text: The thrill of victory, the agony defeat\n  start_ms: 150270\n  end_ms: 152890\n- text: We crush slow, flaming deluxe slow\n  start_ms: 152890\n  end_ms: 155210\n- text: For judgment day cometh, conquer it's war\n  start_ms: 155210\n  end_ms: 158200\n- text: Allow us to escape, hell glow spinning bomb\n  start_ms: 158200\n  end_ms: 160930\n- text: Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n  start_ms: 160930\n  end_ms: 163590\n- text: Tunes split the shitty Mortal Kombat sound\n  start_ms: 163590\n  end_ms: 166060\n- text: The fateful step make, the blood stain the ground\n  start_ms: 166060\n  end_ms: 168720\n- text: A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n  start_ms: 168720\n  end_ms: 171330\n- text: A death kiss, catwalk, squeeze another anthem\n  start_ms: 171330\n  end_ms: 173950\n- text: Hold it for ransom, tranquilized with anesthesia\n  start_ms: 173950\n  end_ms: 176600\n- text: My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n  start_ms: 176600\n  end_ms: 179210\n- text: My music Sicily, rich California smell\n  start_ms: 179210\n  end_ms: 181940\n- text: The axe kill adventure, paint a picture well\n  start_ms: 181940\n  end_ms: 184500\n- text: I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sipping on ginseng\n  start_ms: 184500\n  end_ms: 187340\n- text: Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring kings\n  start_ms: 187340\n  end_ms: 190620\n- text: March of the wooden soldiers\n  start_ms: 190620\n  end_ms: 192470\n- text: C-Cypher-Punks couldn't hold us\n  start_ms: 192470\n  end_ms: 193610\n- text: A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n  start_ms: 193610\n  end_ms: 194830\n- text: Perpendicular to the square we stamp gold like Fleer\n  start_ms: 194830\n  end_ms: 197720\n- text: Escape from your dragon's lair in particular\n  start_ms: 197720\n  end_ms: 200230\n- text: My beats travel like a vortex through your spine\n  start_ms: 200230\n  end_ms: 202810\n- text: To the top of your cerebral cortex\n  start_ms: 202810\n  end_ms: 204740\n- text: Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n  start_ms: 204740\n  end_ms: 207080\n- text: Enter through your right ventricle clog up your bloodstream\n  start_ms: 207080\n  end_ms: 210400\n- text: Now terminal like Grand Central Station\n  start_ms: 210400\n  end_ms: 211680\n- text: Program fat baselines on Novation\n  start_ms: 211680\n  end_ms: 213480\n- text: Getting drunk like a fuck, I'm ducking five-year probation\n  start_ms: 213480\n  end_ms: 216350\n- text: War of the masses, the outcome disastrous\n  start_ms: 216350\n  end_ms: 219040\n- text: Many of the victim family save they ashes\n  start_ms: 219040\n  end_ms: 221590\n- text: A million names on walls engraved in plaques\n  start_ms: 221590\n  end_ms: 223940\n- text: Those who went back received penalties for their acts\n  start_ms: 223940\n  end_ms: 226710\n- text: Another heart is torn as close ones mourn\n  start_ms: 226710\n  end_ms: 229390\n- text: Those who stray, niggas get slayed on the song\n  start_ms: 229390\n  end_ms: 231950\n- text: The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n  start_ms: 231950\n  end_ms: 235320\n- text: And leaks sounds that's heard\n  start_ms: 235320\n  end_ms: 238320\n- text: 93 million miles away from came one\n  start_ms: 238320\n  end_ms: 239940\n- text: To represent the Nation, this is a gathering\n  start_ms: 239940\n  end_ms: 242780\n- text: Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n  start_ms: 242780\n  end_ms: 246740\n- text: As we engage in battle, the crowd now screams in rage\n  start_ms: 246740\n  end_ms: 250480\n- text: The high chief Jamel Arief takes the stage\n  start_ms: 250480\n  end_ms: 253240\n- text: Light is provided through sparks of energy\n  start_ms: 253240\n  end_ms: 255540\n- text: From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n  start_ms: 255540\n  end_ms: 258200\n- text: Giving sight to the blind\n  start_ms: 258200\n  end_ms: 259790\n- text: The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n  start_ms: 259790\n  end_ms: 262450\n- text: Death only one can save self from\n  start_ms: 262450\n  end_ms: 264740\n- text: This relentless attack of the track spares none\n  start_ms: 264740\n  end_ms: 268010\n- text: Yo-yo-yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggas laid back\n  start_ms: 268010\n  end_ms: 271630\n- text: Lamping like them gray and black Puma's on my man's rack\n  start_ms: 271630\n  end_ms: 275660\n- text: Codeine was forced in your drink\n  start_ms: 275660\n  end_ms: 277350\n- text: You had a Navy green salamander fiend, bitches overheard you scream\n  start_ms: 277350\n  end_ms: 279450\n- text: You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n  start_ms: 279450\n  end_ms: 282500\n- text: Blowing like Shalamar in 81\n  start_ms: 282500\n  end_ms: 284360\n- text: Sound convincing, thousand dollar cord by convention\n  start_ms: 284360\n  end_ms: 287310\n- text: Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n  start_ms: 287310\n  end_ms: 289890\n- text: Hold the fuck up, I'll unfasten your wig, bad luck\n  start_ms: 289890\n  end_ms: 292460\n- text: I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n  start_ms: 292460\n  end_ms: 295180\n- text: It's me, black, Noble Drew Ali\n  start_ms: 295180\n  end_ms: 298670\n- text: Came in threes we like the Genovese, is that so\n  start_ms: 298670\n  end_ms: 300720\n- text: Caesar needs the greens, it's Earth\n  start_ms: 300720\n  end_ms: 302320\n- text: Ninety-three million miles from the first\n  start_ms: 302320\n  end_ms: 302970\n- text: Rough turbulence, the wave burst, split the megahertz\n  start_ms: 302970\n  end_ms: 306460\n- text: Ayy-yo that's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n  start_ms: 306460\n  end_ms: 308740\n- text: Connect thoughts to make my man child walk\n  start_ms: 308740\n  end_ms: 312260\n- text: Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n  start_ms: 312260\n  end_ms: 314010\n- text: New York Yank visor world tranquilizer\n  start_ms: 314010\n  end_ms: 317270\n- text: Just a dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n  start_ms: 317270\n  end_ms: 319080\n- text: While my pen blow lines ferocious\n  start_ms: 319080\n  end_ms: 322060\n- text: Mediterranean, see y'all, the number one draft pick\n  start_ms: 322060\n  end_ms: 323950\n- text: Tear down the beat God, then delegate the God to see God\n  start_ms: 323950\n  end_ms: 326530\n- text: The swift chancellor, flex the white gold tarantula\n  start_ms: 326530\n  end_ms: 329440\n- text: Track truck diesel, play the weed God substantiala\n  start_ms: 329440\n  end_ms: 332000\n- text: Max mostly, undivided then slide in sickening\n  start_ms: 332000\n  end_ms: 335380\n- text: Guaranteed made 'em jump like Rod Strickland\n  start_ms: 335380\n  end_ms: 337540\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 337540\nplain: |-\n  What y'all thought y'all wasn't gonna see me?\n  I'm the Osiris of this shit\n  Wu-Tang is here forever, motherfuckers\n  This '97\n  A'ight, my niggas and my niggarettes\n  Let's do it like this\n  I'ma rub your ass in the moonshine\n  Let's take it back to '79\n\n  I bomb atomically\n  Socrates' philosophies and hypotheses\n  Can't define how I be dropping these mockeries\n  Lyrically perform armed robbery\n  Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n  Battle-scarred Shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n\n  Tremendous, ultraviolet shine blind forensics\n  I inspect you, through the future see millennium\n  Killer Bees sold fifty gold, sixty platinum\n  Shackling the masses with drastic rap tactics\n  Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n  Black Wu jackets Queen B's ease the guns in\n  Rumble with patrolmen, tear gas laced the function\n  Heads by the score take flight incite a war\n  Chicks hit the floor, die hard fans demand more\n  Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n  Proceeds to blow, swinging swords like Shinobi\n  Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n  Wu got it locked, performing live on your hottest block\n\n  As the world turns, I spread like germs\n  Bless the globe with the pestilence\n  The hard-headed never learn\n  It's my testament to those burned\n  Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n  On foreign land jump the gun out the frying pan into the fire\n  Transform into the Ghost Rider\n  A six-pack and a streetcar named desire\n  Who got my back in the line of fire holding back what\n  My peoples if you with me where the fuck you at\n  Niggas is strapped and they trying to twist my beer cap\n  Is court adjourned for the bad seed from bad sperm\n  Herb got my wig fried like a bad perm, what the blood\n  Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n  You want to think twice, I think not\n  The Iron Lung ain't got to tell you where it's coming from\n  Guns of Navarone, tearing up your battle zone\n  Rip through your slums\n\n  I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n  Loop my voice on the LP, martini on the slang rocks\n  Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n  Tell your story walking\n  Take cover, kid, what?\n  Run for your brother kid\n  Run for your team and your six camp rhyme groupies\n  So I can squeeze with the advantage and get wasted\n  My deadly notes reigns supreme\n  Your fort is basic compared to mine\n  Domino effect, arts and crafts\n  Paragraphs contain cyanide\n  Take a free ride on my thought I got the fashion\n  Catalogs for all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n\n  The saga continues\n  Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n\n  Olympic torch flaming, we burn so sweet\n  The thrill of victory, the agony defeat\n  We crush slow, flaming deluxe slow\n  For judgment day cometh, conquer it's war\n  Allow us to escape, hell glow spinning bomb\n  Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n  Tunes split the shitty Mortal Kombat sound\n  The fateful step make, the blood stain the ground\n  A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n  A death kiss, catwalk, squeeze another anthem\n  Hold it for ransom, tranquilized with anesthesia\n  My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n  My music Sicily, rich California smell\n  The axe kill adventure, paint a picture well\n  I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sipping on ginseng\n  Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring kings\n\n  March of the wooden soldiers\n  C-Cypher-Punks couldn't hold us\n  A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n  Perpendicular to the square we stamp gold like Fleer\n  Escape from your dragon's lair in particular\n  My beats travel like a vortex through your spine\n  To the top of your cerebral cortex\n  Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n  Enter through your right ventricle clog up your bloodstream\n  Now terminal like Grand Central Station\n  Program fat baselines on Novation\n  Getting drunk like a fuck, I'm ducking five-year probation\n\n  War of the masses, the outcome disastrous\n  Many of the victim family save they ashes\n  A million names on walls engraved in plaques\n  Those who went back received penalties for their acts\n  Another heart is torn as close ones mourn\n  Those who stray, niggas get slayed on the song\n\n  The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n  And leaks sounds that's heard\n  93 million miles away from came one\n  To represent the Nation, this is a gathering\n  Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n  As we engage in battle, the crowd now screams in rage\n  The high chief Jamel Arief takes the stage\n  Light is provided through sparks of energy\n  From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n  Giving sight to the blind\n  The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n  Death only one can save self from\n  This relentless attack of the track spares none\n\n  Yo-yo-yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggas laid back\n  Lamping like them gray and black Puma's on my man's rack\n  Codeine was forced in your drink\n  You had a Navy green salamander fiend, bitches overheard you scream\n  You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n  Blowing like Shalamar in 81\n  Sound convincing, thousand dollar cord by convention\n  Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n  Hold the fuck up, I'll unfasten your wig, bad luck\n  I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n  It's me, black, Noble Drew Ali\n  Came in threes we like the Genovese, is that so\n  Caesar needs the greens, it's Earth\n  Ninety-three million miles from the first\n  Rough turbulence, the wave burst, split the megahertz\n\n  Ayy-yo that's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n  Connect thoughts to make my man child walk\n  Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n  New York Yank visor world tranquilizer\n  Just a dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n  While my pen blow lines ferocious\n  Mediterranean, see y'all, the number one draft pick\n  Tear down the beat God, then delegate the God to see God\n  The swift chancellor, flex the white gold tarantula\n  Track truck diesel, play the weed God substantiala\n  Max mostly, undivided then slide in sickening\n  Guaranteed made 'em jump like Rod Strickland\n"},{"id":2857421,"name":"Triumph (Feat. Cappadonna)","trackName":"Triumph (Feat. Cappadonna)","artistName":"Wu-Tang Clan","albumName":"The Essential Wu-Tang Clan","duration":338.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"What y'all thought y'all wasn't gonna see me?\nI'm the Osiris of this shit\nWu-Tang is here forever, motherfuckers\nThis '97\nA'ight, my niggas and my niggarettes\nLet's do it like this\nI'ma rub your ass in the moonshine\nLet's take it back to '79\n\nI bomb atomically\nSocrates' philosophies and hypotheses\nCan't define how I be dropping these mockeries\nLyrically perform armed robbery\nFlee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\nBattle-scarred Shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n\nTremendous, ultraviolet shine blind forensics\nI inspect you, through the future see millennium\nKiller Bees sold fifty gold, sixty platinum\nShackling the masses with drastic rap tactics\nGraphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\nBlack Wu jackets Queen B's ease the guns in\nRumble with patrolmen, tear gas laced the function\nHeads by the score take flight incite a war\nChicks hit the floor, die hard fans demand more\nBehold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\nProceeds to blow, swinging swords like Shinobi\nStomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\nWu got it locked, performing live on your hottest block\n\nAs the world turns, I spread like germs\nBless the globe with the pestilence\nThe hard-headed never learn\nIt's my testament to those burned\nPlay my position in the game of life standing firm\nOn foreign land jump the gun out the frying pan into the fire\nTransform into the Ghost Rider\nA six-pack and a streetcar named desire\nWho got my back in the line of fire holding back what\nMy peoples if you with me where the fuck you at\nNiggas is strapped and they trying to twist my beer cap\nIs court adjourned for the bad seed from bad sperm\nHerb got my wig fried like a bad perm, what the blood\nClot, we smoke pot and blow spots\nYou want to think twice, I think not\nThe Iron Lung ain't got to tell you where it's coming from\nGuns of Navarone, tearing up your battle zone\nRip through your slums\n\nI twist darts from the heart, tried and true\nLoop my voice on the LP, martini on the slang rocks\nCertified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\nTell your story walking\nTake cover, kid, what?\nRun for your brother kid\nRun for your team and your six camp rhyme groupies\nSo I can squeeze with the advantage and get wasted\nMy deadly notes reigns supreme\nYour fort is basic compared to mine\nDomino effect, arts and crafts\nParagraphs contain cyanide\nTake a free ride on my thought I got the fashion\nCatalogs for all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n\nThe saga continues\nWu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n\nOlympic torch flaming, we burn so sweet\nThe thrill of victory, the agony defeat\nWe crush slow, flaming deluxe slow\nFor judgment day cometh, conquer it's war\nAllow us to escape, hell glow spinning bomb\nPocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\nTunes split the shitty Mortal Kombat sound\nThe fateful step make, the blood stain the ground\nA jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\nA death kiss, catwalk, squeeze another anthem\nHold it for ransom, tranquilized with anesthesia\nMy orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\nMy music Sicily, rich California smell\nThe axe kill adventure, paint a picture well\nI sing a song from Sing-Sing, sipping on ginseng\nRighteous wax chaperone, rotating ring kings\n\nMarch of the wooden soldiers\nC-Cypher-Punks couldn't hold us\nA thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\nPerpendicular to the square we stamp gold like Fleer\nEscape from your dragon's lair in particular\nMy beats travel like a vortex through your spine\nTo the top of your cerebral cortex\nMake you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\nEnter through your right ventricle clog up your bloodstream\nNow terminal like Grand Central Station\nProgram fat baselines on Novation\nGetting drunk like a fuck, I'm ducking five-year probation\n\nWar of the masses, the outcome disastrous\nMany of the victim family save they ashes\nA million names on walls engraved in plaques\nThose who went back received penalties for their acts\nAnother heart is torn as close ones mourn\nThose who stray, niggas get slayed on the song\n\nThe track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\nAnd leaks sounds that's heard\n93 million miles away from came one\nTo represent the Nation, this is a gathering\nOf the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\nAs we engage in battle, the crowd now screams in rage\nThe high chief Jamel Arief takes the stage\nLight is provided through sparks of energy\nFrom the mind that travels in rhyme form\nGiving sight to the blind\nThe dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\nDeath only one can save self from\nThis relentless attack of the track spares none\n\nYo-yo-yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggas laid back\nLamping like them gray and black Puma's on my man's rack\nCodeine was forced in your drink\nYou had a Navy green salamander fiend, bitches overheard you scream\nYou two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\nBlowing like Shalamar in 81\nSound convincing, thousand dollar cord by convention\nHands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\nHold the fuck up, I'll unfasten your wig, bad luck\nI humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\nIt's me, black, Noble Drew Ali\nCame in threes we like the Genovese, is that so\nCaesar needs the greens, it's Earth\nNinety-three million miles from the first\nRough turbulence, the wave burst, split the megahertz\n\nAyy-yo that's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\nConnect thoughts to make my man child walk\nSwift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\nNew York Yank visor world tranquilizer\nJust a dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\nWhile my pen blow lines ferocious\nMediterranean, see y'all, the number one draft pick\nTear down the beat God, then delegate the God to see God\nThe swift chancellor, flex the white gold tarantula\nTrack truck diesel, play the weed God substantiala\nMax mostly, undivided then slide in sickening\nGuaranteed made 'em jump like Rod Strickland","syncedLyrics":"[00:03.09] What y'all thought y'all wasn't gonna see me?\n[00:06.67] I'm the Osiris of this shit\n[00:08.69] Wu-Tang is here forever, motherfuckers\n[00:10.64] This '97\n[00:13.00] A'ight, my niggas and my niggarettes\n[00:15.71] Let's do it like this\n[00:17.69] I'ma rub your ass in the moonshine\n[00:19.01] Let's take it back to '79\n[00:21.82] I bomb atomically\n[00:23.10] Socrates' philosophies and hypotheses\n[00:24.93] Can't define how I be dropping these mockeries\n[00:26.55] Lyrically perform armed robbery\n[00:28.50] Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n[00:29.72] Battle-scarred Shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n[00:32.35] \n[00:34.92] Tremendous, ultraviolet shine blind forensics\n[00:36.75] I inspect you, through the future see millennium\n[00:38.82] Killer Bees sold fifty gold, sixty platinum\n[00:42.96] Shackling the masses with drastic rap tactics\n[00:45.60] Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n[00:48.19] Black Wu jackets Queen B's ease the guns in\n[00:50.95] Rumble with patrolmen, tear gas laced the function\n[00:53.58] Heads by the score take flight incite a war\n[00:56.09] Chicks hit the floor, die hard fans demand more\n[00:58.45] Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n[01:01.34] Proceeds to blow, swinging swords like Shinobi\n[01:03.84] Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n[01:06.54] Wu got it locked, performing live on your hottest block\n[01:09.24] As the world turns, I spread like germs\n[01:11.78] Bless the globe with the pestilence\n[01:13.24] The hard-headed never learn\n[01:14.61] It's my testament to those burned\n[01:16.38] Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n[01:18.32] On foreign land jump the gun out the frying pan into the fire\n[01:21.52] Transform into the Ghost Rider\n[01:24.24] A six-pack and a streetcar named desire\n[01:26.06] Who got my back in the line of fire holding back what\n[01:29.37] My peoples if you with me where the fuck you at\n[01:31.99] Niggas is strapped and they trying to twist my beer cap\n[01:34.58] Is court adjourned for the bad seed from bad sperm\n[01:37.22] Herb got my wig fried like a bad perm, what the blood\n[01:40.22] Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n[01:43.48] You want to think twice, I think not\n[01:45.18] The Iron Lung ain't got to tell you where it's coming from\n[01:47.70] Guns of Navarone, tearing up your battle zone\n[01:49.80] Rip through your slums\n[01:51.56] I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n[01:53.63] Loop my voice on the LP, martini on the slang rocks\n[01:56.86] Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n[02:00.12] Tell your story walking\n[02:01.85] Take cover, kid, what?\n[02:03.65] Run for your brother kid\n[02:05.08] Run for your team and your six camp rhyme groupies\n[02:07.57] So I can squeeze with the advantage and get wasted\n[02:10.46] My deadly notes reigns supreme\n[02:13.38] Your fort is basic compared to mine\n[02:15.16] Domino effect, arts and crafts\n[02:17.32] Paragraphs contain cyanide\n[02:19.21] Take a free ride on my thought I got the fashion\n[02:21.96] Catalogs for all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n[02:25.04] The saga continues\n[02:26.68] Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n[02:28.55] Olympic torch flaming, we burn so sweet\n[02:30.89] The thrill of victory, the agony defeat\n[02:33.32] We crush slow, flaming deluxe slow\n[02:35.98] For judgment day cometh, conquer it's war\n[02:38.63] Allow us to escape, hell glow spinning bomb\n[02:41.28] Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n[02:43.95] Tunes split the shitty Mortal Kombat sound\n[02:46.43] The fateful step make, the blood stain the ground\n[02:49.17] A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n[02:52.07] A death kiss, catwalk, squeeze another anthem\n[02:54.75] Hold it for ransom, tranquilized with anesthesia\n[02:57.56] My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n[02:59.96] My music Sicily, rich California smell\n[03:02.65] The axe kill adventure, paint a picture well\n[03:05.26] I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sipping on ginseng\n[03:08.02] Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring kings\n[03:10.69] March of the wooden soldiers\n[03:12.43] C-Cypher-Punks couldn't hold us\n[03:13.65] A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n[03:15.54] Perpendicular to the square we stamp gold like Fleer\n[03:18.18] Escape from your dragon's lair in particular\n[03:20.13] My beats travel like a vortex through your spine\n[03:22.42] To the top of your cerebral cortex\n[03:24.14] Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n[03:26.90] Enter through your right ventricle clog up your bloodstream\n[03:30.48] Now terminal like Grand Central Station\n[03:32.27] Program fat baselines on Novation\n[03:34.02] Getting drunk like a fuck, I'm ducking five-year probation\n[03:36.63] War of the masses, the outcome disastrous\n[03:39.42] Many of the victim family save they ashes\n[03:42.01] A million names on walls engraved in plaques\n[03:44.69] Those who went back received penalties for their acts\n[03:47.31] Another heart is torn as close ones mourn\n[03:49.93] Those who stray, niggas get slayed on the song\n[03:52.67] The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n[03:56.15] And leaks sounds that's heard\n[03:58.32] 93 million miles away from came one\n[04:00.82] To represent the Nation, this is a gathering\n[04:03.28] Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n[04:06.89] As we engage in battle, the crowd now screams in rage\n[04:11.10] The high chief Jamel Arief takes the stage\n[04:13.73] Light is provided through sparks of energy\n[04:16.46] From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n[04:18.96] Giving sight to the blind\n[04:20.79] The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n[04:22.82] Death only one can save self from\n[04:25.48] This relentless attack of the track spares none\n[04:28.18] Yo-yo-yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggas laid back\n[04:32.36] Lamping like them gray and black Puma's on my man's rack\n[04:35.63] Codeine was forced in your drink\n[04:37.33] You had a Navy green salamander fiend, bitches overheard you scream\n[04:40.04] You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n[04:43.17] Blowing like Shalamar in 81\n[04:45.26] Sound convincing, thousand dollar cord by convention\n[04:48.10] Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n[04:50.48] Hold the fuck up, I'll unfasten your wig, bad luck\n[04:53.23] I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n[04:55.86] It's me, black, Noble Drew Ali\n[04:58.60] Came in threes we like the Genovese, is that so\n[05:00.77] Caesar needs the greens, it's Earth\n[05:02.38] Ninety-three million miles from the first\n[05:03.91] Rough turbulence, the wave burst, split the megahertz\n[05:06.47] Ayy-yo that's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n[05:09.50] Connect thoughts to make my man child walk\n[05:12.26] Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n[05:14.64] New York Yank visor world tranquilizer\n[05:17.25] Just a dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n[05:19.77] While my pen blow lines ferocious\n[05:22.07] Mediterranean, see y'all, the number one draft pick\n[05:24.84] Tear down the beat God, then delegate the God to see God\n[05:27.58] The swift chancellor, flex the white gold tarantula\n[05:30.17] Track truck diesel, play the weed God substantiala\n[05:32.68] Max mostly, undivided then slide in sickening\n[05:35.53] Guaranteed made 'em jump like Rod Strickland\n[05:36.63] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Triumph (Feat. Cappadonna)\n  artist: Wu-Tang Clan\n  album: The Essential Wu-Tang Clan\n  duration_ms: 338000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: What y'all thought y'all wasn't gonna see me?\n  start_ms: 3090\n  end_ms: 6670\n- text: I'm the Osiris of this shit\n  start_ms: 6670\n  end_ms: 8690\n- text: Wu-Tang is here forever, motherfuckers\n  start_ms: 8690\n  end_ms: 10640\n- text: This '97\n  start_ms: 10640\n  end_ms: 13000\n- text: A'ight, my niggas and my niggarettes\n  start_ms: 13000\n  end_ms: 15710\n- text: Let's do it like this\n  start_ms: 15710\n  end_ms: 17690\n- text: I'ma rub your ass in the moonshine\n  start_ms: 17690\n  end_ms: 19010\n- text: Let's take it back to '79\n  start_ms: 19010\n  end_ms: 21820\n- text: I bomb atomically\n  start_ms: 21820\n  end_ms: 23100\n- text: Socrates' philosophies and hypotheses\n  start_ms: 23100\n  end_ms: 24930\n- text: Can't define how I be dropping these mockeries\n  start_ms: 24930\n  end_ms: 26550\n- text: Lyrically perform armed robbery\n  start_ms: 26550\n  end_ms: 28500\n- text: Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n  start_ms: 28500\n  end_ms: 29720\n- text: Battle-scarred Shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n  start_ms: 29720\n  end_ms: 32350\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 32350\n  end_ms: 34920\n- text: Tremendous, ultraviolet shine blind forensics\n  start_ms: 34920\n  end_ms: 36750\n- text: I inspect you, through the future see millennium\n  start_ms: 36750\n  end_ms: 38820\n- text: Killer Bees sold fifty gold, sixty platinum\n  start_ms: 38820\n  end_ms: 42960\n- text: Shackling the masses with drastic rap tactics\n  start_ms: 42960\n  end_ms: 45600\n- text: Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n  start_ms: 45600\n  end_ms: 48190\n- text: Black Wu jackets Queen B's ease the guns in\n  start_ms: 48190\n  end_ms: 50950\n- text: Rumble with patrolmen, tear gas laced the function\n  start_ms: 50950\n  end_ms: 53580\n- text: Heads by the score take flight incite a war\n  start_ms: 53580\n  end_ms: 56090\n- text: Chicks hit the floor, die hard fans demand more\n  start_ms: 56090\n  end_ms: 58450\n- text: Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n  start_ms: 58450\n  end_ms: 61340\n- text: Proceeds to blow, swinging swords like Shinobi\n  start_ms: 61340\n  end_ms: 63840\n- text: Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n  start_ms: 63840\n  end_ms: 66540\n- text: Wu got it locked, performing live on your hottest block\n  start_ms: 66540\n  end_ms: 69240\n- text: As the world turns, I spread like germs\n  start_ms: 69240\n  end_ms: 71780\n- text: Bless the globe with the pestilence\n  start_ms: 71780\n  end_ms: 73240\n- text: The hard-headed never learn\n  start_ms: 73240\n  end_ms: 74610\n- text: It's my testament to those burned\n  start_ms: 74610\n  end_ms: 76380\n- text: Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n  start_ms: 76380\n  end_ms: 78320\n- text: On foreign land jump the gun out the frying pan into the fire\n  start_ms: 78320\n  end_ms: 81520\n- text: Transform into the Ghost Rider\n  start_ms: 81520\n  end_ms: 84240\n- text: A six-pack and a streetcar named desire\n  start_ms: 84240\n  end_ms: 86060\n- text: Who got my back in the line of fire holding back what\n  start_ms: 86060\n  end_ms: 89370\n- text: My peoples if you with me where the fuck you at\n  start_ms: 89370\n  end_ms: 91990\n- text: Niggas is strapped and they trying to twist my beer cap\n  start_ms: 91990\n  end_ms: 94580\n- text: Is court adjourned for the bad seed from bad sperm\n  start_ms: 94580\n  end_ms: 97220\n- text: Herb got my wig fried like a bad perm, what the blood\n  start_ms: 97220\n  end_ms: 100220\n- text: Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n  start_ms: 100220\n  end_ms: 103480\n- text: You want to think twice, I think not\n  start_ms: 103480\n  end_ms: 105180\n- text: The Iron Lung ain't got to tell you where it's coming from\n  start_ms: 105180\n  end_ms: 107700\n- text: Guns of Navarone, tearing up your battle zone\n  start_ms: 107700\n  end_ms: 109800\n- text: Rip through your slums\n  start_ms: 109800\n  end_ms: 111560\n- text: I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n  start_ms: 111560\n  end_ms: 113630\n- text: Loop my voice on the LP, martini on the slang rocks\n  start_ms: 113630\n  end_ms: 116860\n- text: Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n  start_ms: 116860\n  end_ms: 120120\n- text: Tell your story walking\n  start_ms: 120120\n  end_ms: 121850\n- text: Take cover, kid, what?\n  start_ms: 121850\n  end_ms: 123650\n- text: Run for your brother kid\n  start_ms: 123650\n  end_ms: 125080\n- text: Run for your team and your six camp rhyme groupies\n  start_ms: 125080\n  end_ms: 127570\n- text: So I can squeeze with the advantage and get wasted\n  start_ms: 127570\n  end_ms: 130460\n- text: My deadly notes reigns supreme\n  start_ms: 130460\n  end_ms: 133380\n- text: Your fort is basic compared to mine\n  start_ms: 133380\n  end_ms: 135160\n- text: Domino effect, arts and crafts\n  start_ms: 135160\n  end_ms: 137320\n- text: Paragraphs contain cyanide\n  start_ms: 137320\n  end_ms: 139210\n- text: Take a free ride on my thought I got the fashion\n  start_ms: 139210\n  end_ms: 141960\n- text: Catalogs for all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n  start_ms: 141960\n  end_ms: 145040\n- text: The saga continues\n  start_ms: 145040\n  end_ms: 146680\n- text: Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n  start_ms: 146680\n  end_ms: 148550\n- text: Olympic torch flaming, we burn so sweet\n  start_ms: 148550\n  end_ms: 150890\n- text: The thrill of victory, the agony defeat\n  start_ms: 150890\n  end_ms: 153320\n- text: We crush slow, flaming deluxe slow\n  start_ms: 153320\n  end_ms: 155980\n- text: For judgment day cometh, conquer it's war\n  start_ms: 155980\n  end_ms: 158630\n- text: Allow us to escape, hell glow spinning bomb\n  start_ms: 158630\n  end_ms: 161280\n- text: Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n  start_ms: 161280\n  end_ms: 163950\n- text: Tunes split the shitty Mortal Kombat sound\n  start_ms: 163950\n  end_ms: 166430\n- text: The fateful step make, the blood stain the ground\n  start_ms: 166430\n  end_ms: 169170\n- text: A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n  start_ms: 169170\n  end_ms: 172070\n- text: A death kiss, catwalk, squeeze another anthem\n  start_ms: 172070\n  end_ms: 174750\n- text: Hold it for ransom, tranquilized with anesthesia\n  start_ms: 174750\n  end_ms: 177560\n- text: My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n  start_ms: 177560\n  end_ms: 179960\n- text: My music Sicily, rich California smell\n  start_ms: 179960\n  end_ms: 182650\n- text: The axe kill adventure, paint a picture well\n  start_ms: 182650\n  end_ms: 185260\n- text: I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sipping on ginseng\n  start_ms: 185260\n  end_ms: 188020\n- text: Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring kings\n  start_ms: 188020\n  end_ms: 190690\n- text: March of the wooden soldiers\n  start_ms: 190690\n  end_ms: 192430\n- text: C-Cypher-Punks couldn't hold us\n  start_ms: 192430\n  end_ms: 193650\n- text: A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n  start_ms: 193650\n  end_ms: 195540\n- text: Perpendicular to the square we stamp gold like Fleer\n  start_ms: 195540\n  end_ms: 198180\n- text: Escape from your dragon's lair in particular\n  start_ms: 198180\n  end_ms: 200130\n- text: My beats travel like a vortex through your spine\n  start_ms: 200130\n  end_ms: 202420\n- text: To the top of your cerebral cortex\n  start_ms: 202420\n  end_ms: 204140\n- text: Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n  start_ms: 204140\n  end_ms: 206900\n- text: Enter through your right ventricle clog up your bloodstream\n  start_ms: 206900\n  end_ms: 210480\n- text: Now terminal like Grand Central Station\n  start_ms: 210480\n  end_ms: 212270\n- text: Program fat baselines on Novation\n  start_ms: 212270\n  end_ms: 214020\n- text: Getting drunk like a fuck, I'm ducking five-year probation\n  start_ms: 214020\n  end_ms: 216630\n- text: War of the masses, the outcome disastrous\n  start_ms: 216630\n  end_ms: 219420\n- text: Many of the victim family save they ashes\n  start_ms: 219420\n  end_ms: 222010\n- text: A million names on walls engraved in plaques\n  start_ms: 222010\n  end_ms: 224690\n- text: Those who went back received penalties for their acts\n  start_ms: 224690\n  end_ms: 227310\n- text: Another heart is torn as close ones mourn\n  start_ms: 227310\n  end_ms: 229930\n- text: Those who stray, niggas get slayed on the song\n  start_ms: 229930\n  end_ms: 232670\n- text: The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n  start_ms: 232670\n  end_ms: 236150\n- text: And leaks sounds that's heard\n  start_ms: 236150\n  end_ms: 238320\n- text: 93 million miles away from came one\n  start_ms: 238320\n  end_ms: 240820\n- text: To represent the Nation, this is a gathering\n  start_ms: 240820\n  end_ms: 243280\n- text: Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n  start_ms: 243280\n  end_ms: 246890\n- text: As we engage in battle, the crowd now screams in rage\n  start_ms: 246890\n  end_ms: 251100\n- text: The high chief Jamel Arief takes the stage\n  start_ms: 251100\n  end_ms: 253730\n- text: Light is provided through sparks of energy\n  start_ms: 253730\n  end_ms: 256460\n- text: From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n  start_ms: 256460\n  end_ms: 258960\n- text: Giving sight to the blind\n  start_ms: 258960\n  end_ms: 260790\n- text: The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n  start_ms: 260790\n  end_ms: 262820\n- text: Death only one can save self from\n  start_ms: 262820\n  end_ms: 265480\n- text: This relentless attack of the track spares none\n  start_ms: 265480\n  end_ms: 268180\n- text: Yo-yo-yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggas laid back\n  start_ms: 268180\n  end_ms: 272360\n- text: Lamping like them gray and black Puma's on my man's rack\n  start_ms: 272360\n  end_ms: 275630\n- text: Codeine was forced in your drink\n  start_ms: 275630\n  end_ms: 277330\n- text: You had a Navy green salamander fiend, bitches overheard you scream\n  start_ms: 277330\n  end_ms: 280040\n- text: You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n  start_ms: 280040\n  end_ms: 283170\n- text: Blowing like Shalamar in 81\n  start_ms: 283170\n  end_ms: 285260\n- text: Sound convincing, thousand dollar cord by convention\n  start_ms: 285260\n  end_ms: 288100\n- text: Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n  start_ms: 288100\n  end_ms: 290480\n- text: Hold the fuck up, I'll unfasten your wig, bad luck\n  start_ms: 290480\n  end_ms: 293230\n- text: I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n  start_ms: 293230\n  end_ms: 295860\n- text: It's me, black, Noble Drew Ali\n  start_ms: 295860\n  end_ms: 298600\n- text: Came in threes we like the Genovese, is that so\n  start_ms: 298600\n  end_ms: 300770\n- text: Caesar needs the greens, it's Earth\n  start_ms: 300770\n  end_ms: 302380\n- text: Ninety-three million miles from the first\n  start_ms: 302380\n  end_ms: 303910\n- text: Rough turbulence, the wave burst, split the megahertz\n  start_ms: 303910\n  end_ms: 306470\n- text: Ayy-yo that's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n  start_ms: 306470\n  end_ms: 309500\n- text: Connect thoughts to make my man child walk\n  start_ms: 309500\n  end_ms: 312260\n- text: Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n  start_ms: 312260\n  end_ms: 314640\n- text: New York Yank visor world tranquilizer\n  start_ms: 314640\n  end_ms: 317250\n- text: Just a dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n  start_ms: 317250\n  end_ms: 319770\n- text: While my pen blow lines ferocious\n  start_ms: 319770\n  end_ms: 322070\n- text: Mediterranean, see y'all, the number one draft pick\n  start_ms: 322070\n  end_ms: 324840\n- text: Tear down the beat God, then delegate the God to see God\n  start_ms: 324840\n  end_ms: 327580\n- text: The swift chancellor, flex the white gold tarantula\n  start_ms: 327580\n  end_ms: 330170\n- text: Track truck diesel, play the weed God substantiala\n  start_ms: 330170\n  end_ms: 332680\n- text: Max mostly, undivided then slide in sickening\n  start_ms: 332680\n  end_ms: 335530\n- text: Guaranteed made 'em jump like Rod Strickland\n  start_ms: 335530\n  end_ms: 336630\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 336630\nplain: |-\n  What y'all thought y'all wasn't gonna see me?\n  I'm the Osiris of this shit\n  Wu-Tang is here forever, motherfuckers\n  This '97\n  A'ight, my niggas and my niggarettes\n  Let's do it like this\n  I'ma rub your ass in the moonshine\n  Let's take it back to '79\n\n  I bomb atomically\n  Socrates' philosophies and hypotheses\n  Can't define how I be dropping these mockeries\n  Lyrically perform armed robbery\n  Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n  Battle-scarred Shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n\n  Tremendous, ultraviolet shine blind forensics\n  I inspect you, through the future see millennium\n  Killer Bees sold fifty gold, sixty platinum\n  Shackling the masses with drastic rap tactics\n  Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n  Black Wu jackets Queen B's ease the guns in\n  Rumble with patrolmen, tear gas laced the function\n  Heads by the score take flight incite a war\n  Chicks hit the floor, die hard fans demand more\n  Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n  Proceeds to blow, swinging swords like Shinobi\n  Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n  Wu got it locked, performing live on your hottest block\n\n  As the world turns, I spread like germs\n  Bless the globe with the pestilence\n  The hard-headed never learn\n  It's my testament to those burned\n  Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n  On foreign land jump the gun out the frying pan into the fire\n  Transform into the Ghost Rider\n  A six-pack and a streetcar named desire\n  Who got my back in the line of fire holding back what\n  My peoples if you with me where the fuck you at\n  Niggas is strapped and they trying to twist my beer cap\n  Is court adjourned for the bad seed from bad sperm\n  Herb got my wig fried like a bad perm, what the blood\n  Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n  You want to think twice, I think not\n  The Iron Lung ain't got to tell you where it's coming from\n  Guns of Navarone, tearing up your battle zone\n  Rip through your slums\n\n  I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n  Loop my voice on the LP, martini on the slang rocks\n  Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n  Tell your story walking\n  Take cover, kid, what?\n  Run for your brother kid\n  Run for your team and your six camp rhyme groupies\n  So I can squeeze with the advantage and get wasted\n  My deadly notes reigns supreme\n  Your fort is basic compared to mine\n  Domino effect, arts and crafts\n  Paragraphs contain cyanide\n  Take a free ride on my thought I got the fashion\n  Catalogs for all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n\n  The saga continues\n  Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n\n  Olympic torch flaming, we burn so sweet\n  The thrill of victory, the agony defeat\n  We crush slow, flaming deluxe slow\n  For judgment day cometh, conquer it's war\n  Allow us to escape, hell glow spinning bomb\n  Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n  Tunes split the shitty Mortal Kombat sound\n  The fateful step make, the blood stain the ground\n  A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n  A death kiss, catwalk, squeeze another anthem\n  Hold it for ransom, tranquilized with anesthesia\n  My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n  My music Sicily, rich California smell\n  The axe kill adventure, paint a picture well\n  I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sipping on ginseng\n  Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring kings\n\n  March of the wooden soldiers\n  C-Cypher-Punks couldn't hold us\n  A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n  Perpendicular to the square we stamp gold like Fleer\n  Escape from your dragon's lair in particular\n  My beats travel like a vortex through your spine\n  To the top of your cerebral cortex\n  Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n  Enter through your right ventricle clog up your bloodstream\n  Now terminal like Grand Central Station\n  Program fat baselines on Novation\n  Getting drunk like a fuck, I'm ducking five-year probation\n\n  War of the masses, the outcome disastrous\n  Many of the victim family save they ashes\n  A million names on walls engraved in plaques\n  Those who went back received penalties for their acts\n  Another heart is torn as close ones mourn\n  Those who stray, niggas get slayed on the song\n\n  The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n  And leaks sounds that's heard\n  93 million miles away from came one\n  To represent the Nation, this is a gathering\n  Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n  As we engage in battle, the crowd now screams in rage\n  The high chief Jamel Arief takes the stage\n  Light is provided through sparks of energy\n  From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n  Giving sight to the blind\n  The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n  Death only one can save self from\n  This relentless attack of the track spares none\n\n  Yo-yo-yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggas laid back\n  Lamping like them gray and black Puma's on my man's rack\n  Codeine was forced in your drink\n  You had a Navy green salamander fiend, bitches overheard you scream\n  You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n  Blowing like Shalamar in 81\n  Sound convincing, thousand dollar cord by convention\n  Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n  Hold the fuck up, I'll unfasten your wig, bad luck\n  I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n  It's me, black, Noble Drew Ali\n  Came in threes we like the Genovese, is that so\n  Caesar needs the greens, it's Earth\n  Ninety-three million miles from the first\n  Rough turbulence, the wave burst, split the megahertz\n\n  Ayy-yo that's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n  Connect thoughts to make my man child walk\n  Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n  New York Yank visor world tranquilizer\n  Just a dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n  While my pen blow lines ferocious\n  Mediterranean, see y'all, the number one draft pick\n  Tear down the beat God, then delegate the God to see God\n  The swift chancellor, flex the white gold tarantula\n  Track truck diesel, play the weed God substantiala\n  Max mostly, undivided then slide in sickening\n  Guaranteed made 'em jump like Rod Strickland\n"},{"id":25913729,"name":"Triumph (Ft. Cappadonna)","trackName":"Triumph (Ft. Cappadonna)","artistName":"Wu-Tang Clan","albumName":"Greatest Hits - Wu-Tang Clan","duration":337.580408,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"What y'all thought y'all wasn't gonna see me?\nI'm the Osiris of this shit\nWu-Tang is here forever, motherfuckers\nThis '97\nA'ight, my niggas and my niggarettes\nLet's do it like this\nI'ma rub your ass in the moonshine\nLet's take it back to '79\n\nI bomb atomically\nSocrates' philosophies and hypotheses\nCan't define how I be dropping these mockeries\nLyrically perform armed robbery\nFlee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\nBattle-scarred Shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n\nTremendous, ultraviolet shine blind forensics\nI inspect you, through the future see millennium\nKiller Bees sold fifty gold, sixty platinum\nShackling the masses with drastic rap tactics\nGraphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\nBlack Wu jackets Queen B's ease the guns in\nRumble with patrolmen, tear gas laced the function\nHeads by the score take flight incite a war\nChicks hit the floor, die hard fans demand more\nBehold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\nProceeds to blow, swinging swords like Shinobi\nStomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\nWu got it locked, performing live on your hottest block\n\nAs the world turns, I spread like germs\nBless the globe with the pestilence\nThe hard-headed never learn\nIt's my testament to those burned\nPlay my position in the game of life standing firm\nOn foreign land jump the gun out the frying pan into the fire\nTransform into the Ghost Rider\nA six-pack and a streetcar named desire\nWho got my back in the line of fire holding back what\nMy peoples if you with me where the fuck you at\nNiggas is strapped and they trying to twist my beer cap\nIs court adjourned for the bad seed from bad sperm\nHerb got my wig fried like a bad perm, what the blood\nClot, we smoke pot and blow spots\nYou want to think twice, I think not\nThe Iron Lung ain't got to tell you where it's coming from\nGuns of Navarone, tearing up your battle zone\nRip through your slums\n\nI twist darts from the heart, tried and true\nLoop my voice on the LP, martini on the slang rocks\nCertified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\nTell your story walking\nTake cover, kid, what?\nRun for your brother kid\nRun for your team and your six camp rhyme groupies\nSo I can squeeze with the advantage and get wasted\nMy deadly notes reigns supreme\nYour fort is basic compared to mine\nDomino effect, arts and crafts\nParagraphs contain cyanide\nTake a free ride on my thought I got the fashion\nCatalogs for all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n\nThe saga continues\nWu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n\nOlympic torch flaming, we burn so sweet\nThe thrill of victory, the agony defeat\nWe crush slow, flaming deluxe slow\nFor judgment day cometh, conquer it's war\nAllow us to escape, hell glow spinning bomb\nPocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\nTunes split the shitty Mortal Kombat sound\nThe fateful step make, the blood stain the ground\nA jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\nA death kiss, catwalk, squeeze another anthem\nHold it for ransom, tranquilized with anesthesia\nMy orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\nMy music Sicily, rich California smell\nThe axe kill adventure, paint a picture well\nI sing a song from Sing-Sing, sipping on ginseng\nRighteous wax chaperone, rotating ring kings\n\nMarch of the wooden soldiers\nC-Cypher-Punks couldn't hold us\nA thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\nPerpendicular to the square we stamp gold like Fleer\nEscape from your dragon's lair in particular\nMy beats travel like a vortex through your spine\nTo the top of your cerebral cortex\nMake you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\nEnter through your right ventricle clog up your bloodstream\nNow terminal like Grand Central Station\nProgram fat baselines on Novation\nGetting drunk like a fuck, I'm ducking five-year probation\n\nWar of the masses, the outcome disastrous\nMany of the victim family save they ashes\nA million names on walls engraved in plaques\nThose who went back received penalties for their acts\nAnother heart is torn as close ones mourn\nThose who stray, niggas get slayed on the song\n\nThe track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\nAnd leaks sounds that's heard\n93 million miles away from came one\nTo represent the Nation, this is a gathering\nOf the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\nAs we engage in battle, the crowd now screams in rage\nThe high chief Jamel Arief takes the stage\nLight is provided through sparks of energy\nFrom the mind that travels in rhyme form\nGiving sight to the blind\nThe dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\nDeath only one can save self from\nThis relentless attack of the track spares none\n\nYo-yo-yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggas laid back\nLamping like them gray and black Puma's on my man's rack\nCodeine was forced in your drink\nYou had a Navy green salamander fiend, bitches overheard you scream\nYou two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\nBlowing like Shalamar in 81\nSound convincing, thousand dollar cord by convention\nHands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\nHold the fuck up, I'll unfasten your wig, bad luck\nI humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\nIt's me, black, Noble Drew Ali\nCame in threes we like the Genovese, is that so\nCaesar needs the greens, it's Earth\nNinety-three million miles from the first\nRough turbulence, the wave burst, split the megahertz\n\nAyy-yo that's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\nConnect thoughts to make my man child walk\nSwift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\nNew York Yank visor world tranquilizer\nJust a dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\nWhile my pen blow lines ferocious\nMediterranean, see y'all, the number one draft pick\nTear down the beat God, then delegate the God to see God\nThe swift chancellor, flex the white gold tarantula\nTrack truck diesel, play the weed God substantiala\nMax mostly, undivided then slide in sickening\nGuaranteed made 'em jump like Rod Strickland","syncedLyrics":"[00:03.09] What y'all thought y'all wasn't gonna see me?\n[00:06.67] I'm the Osiris of this shit\n[00:08.69] Wu-Tang is here forever, motherfuckers\n[00:10.64] This '97\n[00:13.00] A'ight, my niggas and my niggarettes\n[00:15.71] Let's do it like this\n[00:17.69] I'ma rub your ass in the moonshine\n[00:19.01] Let's take it back to '79\n[00:21.82] I bomb atomically\n[00:23.10] Socrates' philosophies and hypotheses\n[00:24.93] Can't define how I be dropping these mockeries\n[00:26.55] Lyrically perform armed robbery\n[00:28.50] Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n[00:29.72] Battle-scarred Shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n[00:32.35] \n[00:34.92] Tremendous, ultraviolet shine blind forensics\n[00:36.75] I inspect you, through the future see millennium\n[00:38.82] Killer Bees sold fifty gold, sixty platinum\n[00:42.96] Shackling the masses with drastic rap tactics\n[00:45.60] Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n[00:48.19] Black Wu jackets Queen B's ease the guns in\n[00:50.95] Rumble with patrolmen, tear gas laced the function\n[00:53.58] Heads by the score take flight incite a war\n[00:56.09] Chicks hit the floor, die hard fans demand more\n[00:58.45] Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n[01:01.34] Proceeds to blow, swinging swords like Shinobi\n[01:03.84] Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n[01:06.54] Wu got it locked, performing live on your hottest block\n[01:09.24] As the world turns, I spread like germs\n[01:11.78] Bless the globe with the pestilence\n[01:13.24] The hard-headed never learn\n[01:14.61] It's my testament to those burned\n[01:16.38] Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n[01:18.32] On foreign land jump the gun out the frying pan into the fire\n[01:21.52] Transform into the Ghost Rider\n[01:24.24] A six-pack and a streetcar named desire\n[01:26.06] Who got my back in the line of fire holding back what\n[01:29.37] My peoples if you with me where the fuck you at\n[01:31.99] Niggas is strapped and they trying to twist my beer cap\n[01:34.58] Is court adjourned for the bad seed from bad sperm\n[01:37.22] Herb got my wig fried like a bad perm, what the blood\n[01:40.22] Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n[01:43.48] You want to think twice, I think not\n[01:45.18] The Iron Lung ain't got to tell you where it's coming from\n[01:47.70] Guns of Navarone, tearing up your battle zone\n[01:49.80] Rip through your slums\n[01:51.56] I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n[01:53.63] Loop my voice on the LP, martini on the slang rocks\n[01:56.86] Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n[02:00.12] Tell your story walking\n[02:01.85] Take cover, kid, what?\n[02:03.65] Run for your brother kid\n[02:05.08] Run for your team and your six camp rhyme groupies\n[02:07.57] So I can squeeze with the advantage and get wasted\n[02:10.46] My deadly notes reigns supreme\n[02:13.38] Your fort is basic compared to mine\n[02:15.16] Domino effect, arts and crafts\n[02:17.32] Paragraphs contain cyanide\n[02:19.21] Take a free ride on my thought I got the fashion\n[02:21.96] Catalogs for all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n[02:25.04] The saga continues\n[02:26.68] Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n[02:28.55] Olympic torch flaming, we burn so sweet\n[02:30.89] The thrill of victory, the agony defeat\n[02:33.32] We crush slow, flaming deluxe slow\n[02:35.98] For judgment day cometh, conquer it's war\n[02:38.63] Allow us to escape, hell glow spinning bomb\n[02:41.28] Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n[02:43.95] Tunes split the shitty Mortal Kombat sound\n[02:46.43] The fateful step make, the blood stain the ground\n[02:49.17] A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n[02:52.07] A death kiss, catwalk, squeeze another anthem\n[02:54.75] Hold it for ransom, tranquilized with anesthesia\n[02:57.56] My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n[02:59.96] My music Sicily, rich California smell\n[03:02.65] The axe kill adventure, paint a picture well\n[03:05.26] I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sipping on ginseng\n[03:08.02] Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring kings\n[03:10.69] March of the wooden soldiers\n[03:12.43] C-Cypher-Punks couldn't hold us\n[03:13.65] A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n[03:15.54] Perpendicular to the square we stamp gold like Fleer\n[03:18.18] Escape from your dragon's lair in particular\n[03:20.13] My beats travel like a vortex through your spine\n[03:22.42] To the top of your cerebral cortex\n[03:24.14] Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n[03:26.90] Enter through your right ventricle clog up your bloodstream\n[03:30.48] Now terminal like Grand Central Station\n[03:32.27] Program fat baselines on Novation\n[03:34.02] Getting drunk like a fuck, I'm ducking five-year probation\n[03:36.63] War of the masses, the outcome disastrous\n[03:39.42] Many of the victim family save they ashes\n[03:42.01] A million names on walls engraved in plaques\n[03:44.69] Those who went back received penalties for their acts\n[03:47.31] Another heart is torn as close ones mourn\n[03:49.93] Those who stray, niggas get slayed on the song\n[03:52.67] The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n[03:56.15] And leaks sounds that's heard\n[03:58.32] 93 million miles away from came one\n[04:00.82] To represent the Nation, this is a gathering\n[04:03.28] Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n[04:06.89] As we engage in battle, the crowd now screams in rage\n[04:11.10] The high chief Jamel Arief takes the stage\n[04:13.73] Light is provided through sparks of energy\n[04:16.46] From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n[04:18.96] Giving sight to the blind\n[04:20.79] The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n[04:22.82] Death only one can save self from\n[04:25.48] This relentless attack of the track spares none\n[04:28.18] Yo-yo-yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggas laid back\n[04:32.36] Lamping like them gray and black Puma's on my man's rack\n[04:35.63] Codeine was forced in your drink\n[04:37.33] You had a Navy green salamander fiend, bitches overheard you scream\n[04:40.04] You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n[04:43.17] Blowing like Shalamar in 81\n[04:45.26] Sound convincing, thousand dollar cord by convention\n[04:48.10] Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n[04:50.48] Hold the fuck up, I'll unfasten your wig, bad luck\n[04:53.23] I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n[04:55.86] It's me, black, Noble Drew Ali\n[04:58.60] Came in threes we like the Genovese, is that so\n[05:00.77] Caesar needs the greens, it's Earth\n[05:02.38] Ninety-three million miles from the first\n[05:03.91] Rough turbulence, the wave burst, split the megahertz\n[05:06.47] Ayy-yo that's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n[05:09.50] Connect thoughts to make my man child walk\n[05:12.26] Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n[05:14.64] New York Yank visor world tranquilizer\n[05:17.25] Just a dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n[05:19.77] While my pen blow lines ferocious\n[05:22.07] Mediterranean, see y'all, the number one draft pick\n[05:24.84] Tear down the beat God, then delegate the God to see God\n[05:27.58] The swift chancellor, flex the white gold tarantula\n[05:30.17] Track truck diesel, play the weed God substantiala\n[05:32.68] Max mostly, undivided then slide in sickening\n[05:35.53] Guaranteed made 'em jump like Rod Strickland\n[05:36.63] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Triumph (Ft. Cappadonna)\n  artist: Wu-Tang Clan\n  album: Greatest Hits - Wu-Tang Clan\n  duration_ms: 337580\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: What y'all thought y'all wasn't gonna see me?\n  start_ms: 3090\n  end_ms: 6670\n- text: I'm the Osiris of this shit\n  start_ms: 6670\n  end_ms: 8690\n- text: Wu-Tang is here forever, motherfuckers\n  start_ms: 8690\n  end_ms: 10640\n- text: This '97\n  start_ms: 10640\n  end_ms: 13000\n- text: A'ight, my niggas and my niggarettes\n  start_ms: 13000\n  end_ms: 15710\n- text: Let's do it like this\n  start_ms: 15710\n  end_ms: 17690\n- text: I'ma rub your ass in the moonshine\n  start_ms: 17690\n  end_ms: 19010\n- text: Let's take it back to '79\n  start_ms: 19010\n  end_ms: 21820\n- text: I bomb atomically\n  start_ms: 21820\n  end_ms: 23100\n- text: Socrates' philosophies and hypotheses\n  start_ms: 23100\n  end_ms: 24930\n- text: Can't define how I be dropping these mockeries\n  start_ms: 24930\n  end_ms: 26550\n- text: Lyrically perform armed robbery\n  start_ms: 26550\n  end_ms: 28500\n- text: Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n  start_ms: 28500\n  end_ms: 29720\n- text: Battle-scarred Shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n  start_ms: 29720\n  end_ms: 32350\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 32350\n  end_ms: 34920\n- text: Tremendous, ultraviolet shine blind forensics\n  start_ms: 34920\n  end_ms: 36750\n- text: I inspect you, through the future see millennium\n  start_ms: 36750\n  end_ms: 38820\n- text: Killer Bees sold fifty gold, sixty platinum\n  start_ms: 38820\n  end_ms: 42960\n- text: Shackling the masses with drastic rap tactics\n  start_ms: 42960\n  end_ms: 45600\n- text: Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n  start_ms: 45600\n  end_ms: 48190\n- text: Black Wu jackets Queen B's ease the guns in\n  start_ms: 48190\n  end_ms: 50950\n- text: Rumble with patrolmen, tear gas laced the function\n  start_ms: 50950\n  end_ms: 53580\n- text: Heads by the score take flight incite a war\n  start_ms: 53580\n  end_ms: 56090\n- text: Chicks hit the floor, die hard fans demand more\n  start_ms: 56090\n  end_ms: 58450\n- text: Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n  start_ms: 58450\n  end_ms: 61340\n- text: Proceeds to blow, swinging swords like Shinobi\n  start_ms: 61340\n  end_ms: 63840\n- text: Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n  start_ms: 63840\n  end_ms: 66540\n- text: Wu got it locked, performing live on your hottest block\n  start_ms: 66540\n  end_ms: 69240\n- text: As the world turns, I spread like germs\n  start_ms: 69240\n  end_ms: 71780\n- text: Bless the globe with the pestilence\n  start_ms: 71780\n  end_ms: 73240\n- text: The hard-headed never learn\n  start_ms: 73240\n  end_ms: 74610\n- text: It's my testament to those burned\n  start_ms: 74610\n  end_ms: 76380\n- text: Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n  start_ms: 76380\n  end_ms: 78320\n- text: On foreign land jump the gun out the frying pan into the fire\n  start_ms: 78320\n  end_ms: 81520\n- text: Transform into the Ghost Rider\n  start_ms: 81520\n  end_ms: 84240\n- text: A six-pack and a streetcar named desire\n  start_ms: 84240\n  end_ms: 86060\n- text: Who got my back in the line of fire holding back what\n  start_ms: 86060\n  end_ms: 89370\n- text: My peoples if you with me where the fuck you at\n  start_ms: 89370\n  end_ms: 91990\n- text: Niggas is strapped and they trying to twist my beer cap\n  start_ms: 91990\n  end_ms: 94580\n- text: Is court adjourned for the bad seed from bad sperm\n  start_ms: 94580\n  end_ms: 97220\n- text: Herb got my wig fried like a bad perm, what the blood\n  start_ms: 97220\n  end_ms: 100220\n- text: Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n  start_ms: 100220\n  end_ms: 103480\n- text: You want to think twice, I think not\n  start_ms: 103480\n  end_ms: 105180\n- text: The Iron Lung ain't got to tell you where it's coming from\n  start_ms: 105180\n  end_ms: 107700\n- text: Guns of Navarone, tearing up your battle zone\n  start_ms: 107700\n  end_ms: 109800\n- text: Rip through your slums\n  start_ms: 109800\n  end_ms: 111560\n- text: I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n  start_ms: 111560\n  end_ms: 113630\n- text: Loop my voice on the LP, martini on the slang rocks\n  start_ms: 113630\n  end_ms: 116860\n- text: Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n  start_ms: 116860\n  end_ms: 120120\n- text: Tell your story walking\n  start_ms: 120120\n  end_ms: 121850\n- text: Take cover, kid, what?\n  start_ms: 121850\n  end_ms: 123650\n- text: Run for your brother kid\n  start_ms: 123650\n  end_ms: 125080\n- text: Run for your team and your six camp rhyme groupies\n  start_ms: 125080\n  end_ms: 127570\n- text: So I can squeeze with the advantage and get wasted\n  start_ms: 127570\n  end_ms: 130460\n- text: My deadly notes reigns supreme\n  start_ms: 130460\n  end_ms: 133380\n- text: Your fort is basic compared to mine\n  start_ms: 133380\n  end_ms: 135160\n- text: Domino effect, arts and crafts\n  start_ms: 135160\n  end_ms: 137320\n- text: Paragraphs contain cyanide\n  start_ms: 137320\n  end_ms: 139210\n- text: Take a free ride on my thought I got the fashion\n  start_ms: 139210\n  end_ms: 141960\n- text: Catalogs for all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n  start_ms: 141960\n  end_ms: 145040\n- text: The saga continues\n  start_ms: 145040\n  end_ms: 146680\n- text: Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n  start_ms: 146680\n  end_ms: 148550\n- text: Olympic torch flaming, we burn so sweet\n  start_ms: 148550\n  end_ms: 150890\n- text: The thrill of victory, the agony defeat\n  start_ms: 150890\n  end_ms: 153320\n- text: We crush slow, flaming deluxe slow\n  start_ms: 153320\n  end_ms: 155980\n- text: For judgment day cometh, conquer it's war\n  start_ms: 155980\n  end_ms: 158630\n- text: Allow us to escape, hell glow spinning bomb\n  start_ms: 158630\n  end_ms: 161280\n- text: Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n  start_ms: 161280\n  end_ms: 163950\n- text: Tunes split the shitty Mortal Kombat sound\n  start_ms: 163950\n  end_ms: 166430\n- text: The fateful step make, the blood stain the ground\n  start_ms: 166430\n  end_ms: 169170\n- text: A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n  start_ms: 169170\n  end_ms: 172070\n- text: A death kiss, catwalk, squeeze another anthem\n  start_ms: 172070\n  end_ms: 174750\n- text: Hold it for ransom, tranquilized with anesthesia\n  start_ms: 174750\n  end_ms: 177560\n- text: My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n  start_ms: 177560\n  end_ms: 179960\n- text: My music Sicily, rich California smell\n  start_ms: 179960\n  end_ms: 182650\n- text: The axe kill adventure, paint a picture well\n  start_ms: 182650\n  end_ms: 185260\n- text: I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sipping on ginseng\n  start_ms: 185260\n  end_ms: 188020\n- text: Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring kings\n  start_ms: 188020\n  end_ms: 190690\n- text: March of the wooden soldiers\n  start_ms: 190690\n  end_ms: 192430\n- text: C-Cypher-Punks couldn't hold us\n  start_ms: 192430\n  end_ms: 193650\n- text: A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n  start_ms: 193650\n  end_ms: 195540\n- text: Perpendicular to the square we stamp gold like Fleer\n  start_ms: 195540\n  end_ms: 198180\n- text: Escape from your dragon's lair in particular\n  start_ms: 198180\n  end_ms: 200130\n- text: My beats travel like a vortex through your spine\n  start_ms: 200130\n  end_ms: 202420\n- text: To the top of your cerebral cortex\n  start_ms: 202420\n  end_ms: 204140\n- text: Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n  start_ms: 204140\n  end_ms: 206900\n- text: Enter through your right ventricle clog up your bloodstream\n  start_ms: 206900\n  end_ms: 210480\n- text: Now terminal like Grand Central Station\n  start_ms: 210480\n  end_ms: 212270\n- text: Program fat baselines on Novation\n  start_ms: 212270\n  end_ms: 214020\n- text: Getting drunk like a fuck, I'm ducking five-year probation\n  start_ms: 214020\n  end_ms: 216630\n- text: War of the masses, the outcome disastrous\n  start_ms: 216630\n  end_ms: 219420\n- text: Many of the victim family save they ashes\n  start_ms: 219420\n  end_ms: 222010\n- text: A million names on walls engraved in plaques\n  start_ms: 222010\n  end_ms: 224690\n- text: Those who went back received penalties for their acts\n  start_ms: 224690\n  end_ms: 227310\n- text: Another heart is torn as close ones mourn\n  start_ms: 227310\n  end_ms: 229930\n- text: Those who stray, niggas get slayed on the song\n  start_ms: 229930\n  end_ms: 232670\n- text: The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n  start_ms: 232670\n  end_ms: 236150\n- text: And leaks sounds that's heard\n  start_ms: 236150\n  end_ms: 238320\n- text: 93 million miles away from came one\n  start_ms: 238320\n  end_ms: 240820\n- text: To represent the Nation, this is a gathering\n  start_ms: 240820\n  end_ms: 243280\n- text: Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n  start_ms: 243280\n  end_ms: 246890\n- text: As we engage in battle, the crowd now screams in rage\n  start_ms: 246890\n  end_ms: 251100\n- text: The high chief Jamel Arief takes the stage\n  start_ms: 251100\n  end_ms: 253730\n- text: Light is provided through sparks of energy\n  start_ms: 253730\n  end_ms: 256460\n- text: From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n  start_ms: 256460\n  end_ms: 258960\n- text: Giving sight to the blind\n  start_ms: 258960\n  end_ms: 260790\n- text: The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n  start_ms: 260790\n  end_ms: 262820\n- text: Death only one can save self from\n  start_ms: 262820\n  end_ms: 265480\n- text: This relentless attack of the track spares none\n  start_ms: 265480\n  end_ms: 268180\n- text: Yo-yo-yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggas laid back\n  start_ms: 268180\n  end_ms: 272360\n- text: Lamping like them gray and black Puma's on my man's rack\n  start_ms: 272360\n  end_ms: 275630\n- text: Codeine was forced in your drink\n  start_ms: 275630\n  end_ms: 277330\n- text: You had a Navy green salamander fiend, bitches overheard you scream\n  start_ms: 277330\n  end_ms: 280040\n- text: You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n  start_ms: 280040\n  end_ms: 283170\n- text: Blowing like Shalamar in 81\n  start_ms: 283170\n  end_ms: 285260\n- text: Sound convincing, thousand dollar cord by convention\n  start_ms: 285260\n  end_ms: 288100\n- text: Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n  start_ms: 288100\n  end_ms: 290480\n- text: Hold the fuck up, I'll unfasten your wig, bad luck\n  start_ms: 290480\n  end_ms: 293230\n- text: I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n  start_ms: 293230\n  end_ms: 295860\n- text: It's me, black, Noble Drew Ali\n  start_ms: 295860\n  end_ms: 298600\n- text: Came in threes we like the Genovese, is that so\n  start_ms: 298600\n  end_ms: 300770\n- text: Caesar needs the greens, it's Earth\n  start_ms: 300770\n  end_ms: 302380\n- text: Ninety-three million miles from the first\n  start_ms: 302380\n  end_ms: 303910\n- text: Rough turbulence, the wave burst, split the megahertz\n  start_ms: 303910\n  end_ms: 306470\n- text: Ayy-yo that's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n  start_ms: 306470\n  end_ms: 309500\n- text: Connect thoughts to make my man child walk\n  start_ms: 309500\n  end_ms: 312260\n- text: Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n  start_ms: 312260\n  end_ms: 314640\n- text: New York Yank visor world tranquilizer\n  start_ms: 314640\n  end_ms: 317250\n- text: Just a dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n  start_ms: 317250\n  end_ms: 319770\n- text: While my pen blow lines ferocious\n  start_ms: 319770\n  end_ms: 322070\n- text: Mediterranean, see y'all, the number one draft pick\n  start_ms: 322070\n  end_ms: 324840\n- text: Tear down the beat God, then delegate the God to see God\n  start_ms: 324840\n  end_ms: 327580\n- text: The swift chancellor, flex the white gold tarantula\n  start_ms: 327580\n  end_ms: 330170\n- text: Track truck diesel, play the weed God substantiala\n  start_ms: 330170\n  end_ms: 332680\n- text: Max mostly, undivided then slide in sickening\n  start_ms: 332680\n  end_ms: 335530\n- text: Guaranteed made 'em jump like Rod Strickland\n  start_ms: 335530\n  end_ms: 336630\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 336630\nplain: |-\n  What y'all thought y'all wasn't gonna see me?\n  I'm the Osiris of this shit\n  Wu-Tang is here forever, motherfuckers\n  This '97\n  A'ight, my niggas and my niggarettes\n  Let's do it like this\n  I'ma rub your ass in the moonshine\n  Let's take it back to '79\n\n  I bomb atomically\n  Socrates' philosophies and hypotheses\n  Can't define how I be dropping these mockeries\n  Lyrically perform armed robbery\n  Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n  Battle-scarred Shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n\n  Tremendous, ultraviolet shine blind forensics\n  I inspect you, through the future see millennium\n  Killer Bees sold fifty gold, sixty platinum\n  Shackling the masses with drastic rap tactics\n  Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n  Black Wu jackets Queen B's ease the guns in\n  Rumble with patrolmen, tear gas laced the function\n  Heads by the score take flight incite a war\n  Chicks hit the floor, die hard fans demand more\n  Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n  Proceeds to blow, swinging swords like Shinobi\n  Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n  Wu got it locked, performing live on your hottest block\n\n  As the world turns, I spread like germs\n  Bless the globe with the pestilence\n  The hard-headed never learn\n  It's my testament to those burned\n  Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n  On foreign land jump the gun out the frying pan into the fire\n  Transform into the Ghost Rider\n  A six-pack and a streetcar named desire\n  Who got my back in the line of fire holding back what\n  My peoples if you with me where the fuck you at\n  Niggas is strapped and they trying to twist my beer cap\n  Is court adjourned for the bad seed from bad sperm\n  Herb got my wig fried like a bad perm, what the blood\n  Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n  You want to think twice, I think not\n  The Iron Lung ain't got to tell you where it's coming from\n  Guns of Navarone, tearing up your battle zone\n  Rip through your slums\n\n  I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n  Loop my voice on the LP, martini on the slang rocks\n  Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n  Tell your story walking\n  Take cover, kid, what?\n  Run for your brother kid\n  Run for your team and your six camp rhyme groupies\n  So I can squeeze with the advantage and get wasted\n  My deadly notes reigns supreme\n  Your fort is basic compared to mine\n  Domino effect, arts and crafts\n  Paragraphs contain cyanide\n  Take a free ride on my thought I got the fashion\n  Catalogs for all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n\n  The saga continues\n  Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n\n  Olympic torch flaming, we burn so sweet\n  The thrill of victory, the agony defeat\n  We crush slow, flaming deluxe slow\n  For judgment day cometh, conquer it's war\n  Allow us to escape, hell glow spinning bomb\n  Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n  Tunes split the shitty Mortal Kombat sound\n  The fateful step make, the blood stain the ground\n  A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n  A death kiss, catwalk, squeeze another anthem\n  Hold it for ransom, tranquilized with anesthesia\n  My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n  My music Sicily, rich California smell\n  The axe kill adventure, paint a picture well\n  I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sipping on ginseng\n  Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring kings\n\n  March of the wooden soldiers\n  C-Cypher-Punks couldn't hold us\n  A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n  Perpendicular to the square we stamp gold like Fleer\n  Escape from your dragon's lair in particular\n  My beats travel like a vortex through your spine\n  To the top of your cerebral cortex\n  Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n  Enter through your right ventricle clog up your bloodstream\n  Now terminal like Grand Central Station\n  Program fat baselines on Novation\n  Getting drunk like a fuck, I'm ducking five-year probation\n\n  War of the masses, the outcome disastrous\n  Many of the victim family save they ashes\n  A million names on walls engraved in plaques\n  Those who went back received penalties for their acts\n  Another heart is torn as close ones mourn\n  Those who stray, niggas get slayed on the song\n\n  The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n  And leaks sounds that's heard\n  93 million miles away from came one\n  To represent the Nation, this is a gathering\n  Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n  As we engage in battle, the crowd now screams in rage\n  The high chief Jamel Arief takes the stage\n  Light is provided through sparks of energy\n  From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n  Giving sight to the blind\n  The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n  Death only one can save self from\n  This relentless attack of the track spares none\n\n  Yo-yo-yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggas laid back\n  Lamping like them gray and black Puma's on my man's rack\n  Codeine was forced in your drink\n  You had a Navy green salamander fiend, bitches overheard you scream\n  You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n  Blowing like Shalamar in 81\n  Sound convincing, thousand dollar cord by convention\n  Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n  Hold the fuck up, I'll unfasten your wig, bad luck\n  I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n  It's me, black, Noble Drew Ali\n  Came in threes we like the Genovese, is that so\n  Caesar needs the greens, it's Earth\n  Ninety-three million miles from the first\n  Rough turbulence, the wave burst, split the megahertz\n\n  Ayy-yo that's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n  Connect thoughts to make my man child walk\n  Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n  New York Yank visor world tranquilizer\n  Just a dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n  While my pen blow lines ferocious\n  Mediterranean, see y'all, the number one draft pick\n  Tear down the beat God, then delegate the God to see God\n  The swift chancellor, flex the white gold tarantula\n  Track truck diesel, play the weed God substantiala\n  Max mostly, undivided then slide in sickening\n  Guaranteed made 'em jump like Rod Strickland\n"},{"id":32287600,"name":"Triumph","trackName":"Triumph","artistName":"Wu-Tang Clan","albumName":"The Story Of The WU Tang Clan","duration":339.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\nAnd hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\nMockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\nFlee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\nBattle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\nTremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\nI inspect view through the future see millenium\nKilla Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\nShacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\nGraphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\nBlack Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\nRumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\nHeads by the score, take flight, incite a war\nChicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\nBehold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\nProceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\nStomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n\nWu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n\nAs the world turn, I spread like germs\nBless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\nIt's my testament to those burned\nPlay my position in the game of life standing firm\nOn foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\nTransform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\nIn a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\nIn the line of fire holdin' back, what?\nMy people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\nNiggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\nIt's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\nHerb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\nClot, we smoke pot and blow spots\nYou wanna think twice, I think not\n\nDa Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\nGuns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n\nI twist darts from the heart, tried and true\nLoot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\nCertified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\nTell your story walking\nTake cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\nRun for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\nSo I can squeeze with the advantage\nAnd get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\nCompared to mine\n\nDomino effect, arts and crafts\nParagraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n\nOn my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n\nFor all y'all to all praise to the Gods\nThe saga continues\n\nWu-Tang, Wu-Tang\nOlympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\nThe thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\nWe crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\nFor-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\nAllow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\nPocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\nTune spit the shit immortal combat sound\nThe fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\nA jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\nA death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n\nHold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\nMy orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\nMy music Sicily, rich California smell\nAn axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\nI sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n\nRighteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\nWatch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\nA thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\nPerpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n\nEscape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\nMy beats travel like a vortex\nUp your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\nMake you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\nEnter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\nLike Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n\nGetting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\nWar of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\nMany of the victims' families save they ashes\nA million names on walls, engraved in plaques\nThose who went back, received penalties for their acts\nAnother heart is torn, as close ones gone\n\nThose who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\nThe track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\nAnd leaks sounds that's heard\nNinety-three million miles away from came one\nTo represent the nation, this is a gathering\nOf the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n\nAs we engage in battle\nThe crowd now screams in rage\nThe High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\nLight is provided through sparks of energy\nFrom the mind that travels in rhyme form\nGiving sight to the blind\nThe dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\nDeath only one can save shell from\n\nThis relentless attack of the track spares none\nYo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\nLampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\nCodeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\nSalamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\nYou two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n\nBlowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\nSound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\nHands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\nHold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\nI humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\nIt's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\nWe like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\nIt's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\nRough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n\nAiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\nConnect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\nSwift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\nNew York gank adviser world tranquilizer\nJust the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\nWhile my pen blow lines ferocious\nMediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\nThen delegate the God to see God\nThe swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\nTrack truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\nMax mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\nGuaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland","syncedLyrics":"[00:22.36] I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\n[00:25.07] And hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\n[00:27.26] Mockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\n[00:29.51] Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n[00:32.77] Battle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n[00:35.42] Tremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\n[00:37.99] I inspect view through the future see millenium\n[00:40.44] Killa Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\n[00:43.32] Shacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\n[00:45.57] Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n[00:48.40] Black Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\n[00:50.90] Rumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\n[00:53.42] Heads by the score, take flight, incite a war\n[00:56.42] Chicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\n[00:58.42] Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n[01:01.51] Proceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\n[01:03.99] Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n[01:07.16] Wu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n[01:09.16] As the world turn, I spread like germs\n[01:11.55] Bless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\n[01:14.42] It's my testament to those burned\n[01:16.47] Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n[01:18.52] On foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\n[01:21.83] Transform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\n[01:25.05] In a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\n[01:27.04] In the line of fire holdin' back, what?\n[01:30.21] My people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\n[01:32.25] Niggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\n[01:34.69] It's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\n[01:37.73] Herb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\n[01:40.96] Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n[01:43.56] You wanna think twice, I think not\n[01:45.90] Da Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\n[01:48.22] Guns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n[01:51.86] I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n[01:54.47] Loot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\n[01:57.46] Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n[02:00.37] Tell your story walking\n[02:02.20] Take cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\n[02:05.17] Run for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\n[02:07.64] So I can squeeze with the advantage\n[02:10.01] And get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\n[02:13.27] Compared to mine\n[02:14.76] Domino effect, arts and crafts\n[02:17.32] Paragraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n[02:20.10] On my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n[02:22.86] For all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n[02:26.81] The saga continues\n[02:28.38] Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n[02:30.61] Olympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\n[02:33.17] The thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\n[02:35.38] We crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\n[02:37.99] For-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\n[02:40.38] Allow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\n[02:43.20] Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n[02:46.23] Tune spit the shit immortal combat sound\n[02:48.51] The fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\n[02:51.31] A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n[02:54.08] A death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n[02:56.40] Hold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\n[02:58.46] My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n[03:02.06] My music Sicily, rich California smell\n[03:04.46] An axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\n[03:06.95] I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n[03:09.38] Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\n[03:11.92] Watch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\n[03:14.72] A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n[03:17.14] Perpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n[03:19.99] Escape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\n[03:22.43] My beats travel like a vortex\n[03:24.20] Up your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\n[03:27.12] Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n[03:29.43] Enter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\n[03:32.69] Like Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n[03:35.47] Getting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\n[03:38.55] War of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\n[03:41.29] Many of the victims' families save they ashes\n[03:43.93] A million names on walls, engraved in plaques\n[03:46.47] Those who went back, received penalties for their acts\n[03:48.97] Another heart is torn, as close ones gone\n[03:51.85] Those who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\n[03:54.24] The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n[03:57.55] And leaks sounds that's heard\n[03:59.84] Ninety-three million miles away from came one\n[04:02.40] To represent the nation, this is a gathering\n[04:04.76] Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n[04:08.48] As we engage in battle\n[04:10.82] The crowd now screams in rage\n[04:12.29] The High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\n[04:14.96] Light is provided through sparks of energy\n[04:17.51] From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n[04:20.24] Giving sight to the blind\n[04:21.62] The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n[04:24.08] Death only one can save shell from\n[04:26.50] This relentless attack of the track spares none\n[04:29.30] Yo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\n[04:33.30] Lampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\n[04:35.92] Codeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\n[04:38.84] Salamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\n[04:41.19] You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n[04:43.96] Blowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\n[04:46.65] Sound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\n[04:49.40] Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n[04:52.20] Hold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\n[04:54.03] I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n[04:56.79] It's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\n[04:59.75] We like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\n[05:02.42] It's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\n[05:05.21] Rough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n[05:07.63] Aiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n[05:11.50] Connect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\n[05:13.07] Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n[05:15.66] New York gank adviser world tranquilizer\n[05:18.25] Just the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n[05:20.62] While my pen blow lines ferocious\n[05:23.55] Mediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\n[05:26.00] Then delegate the God to see God\n[05:29.08] The swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\n[05:31.27] Track truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\n[05:34.18] Max mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\n[05:37.24] Guaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland\n[05:38.59] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Triumph\n  artist: Wu-Tang Clan\n  album: The Story Of The WU Tang Clan\n  duration_ms: 339000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\n  start_ms: 22360\n  end_ms: 25070\n- text: And hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\n  start_ms: 25070\n  end_ms: 27260\n- text: Mockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\n  start_ms: 27260\n  end_ms: 29510\n- text: Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n  start_ms: 29510\n  end_ms: 32770\n- text: Battle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n  start_ms: 32770\n  end_ms: 35420\n- text: Tremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\n  start_ms: 35420\n  end_ms: 37990\n- text: I inspect view through the future see millenium\n  start_ms: 37990\n  end_ms: 40440\n- text: Killa Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\n  start_ms: 40440\n  end_ms: 43320\n- text: Shacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\n  start_ms: 43320\n  end_ms: 45570\n- text: Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n  start_ms: 45570\n  end_ms: 48400\n- text: Black Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\n  start_ms: 48400\n  end_ms: 50900\n- text: Rumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\n  start_ms: 50900\n  end_ms: 53420\n- text: Heads by the score, take flight, incite a war\n  start_ms: 53420\n  end_ms: 56420\n- text: Chicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\n  start_ms: 56420\n  end_ms: 58420\n- text: Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n  start_ms: 58420\n  end_ms: 61510\n- text: Proceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\n  start_ms: 61510\n  end_ms: 63990\n- text: Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n  start_ms: 63990\n  end_ms: 67160\n- text: Wu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n  start_ms: 67160\n  end_ms: 69160\n- text: As the world turn, I spread like germs\n  start_ms: 69160\n  end_ms: 71550\n- text: Bless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\n  start_ms: 71550\n  end_ms: 74420\n- text: It's my testament to those burned\n  start_ms: 74420\n  end_ms: 76470\n- text: Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n  start_ms: 76470\n  end_ms: 78520\n- text: On foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\n  start_ms: 78520\n  end_ms: 81830\n- text: Transform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\n  start_ms: 81830\n  end_ms: 85050\n- text: In a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\n  start_ms: 85050\n  end_ms: 87040\n- text: In the line of fire holdin' back, what?\n  start_ms: 87040\n  end_ms: 90210\n- text: My people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\n  start_ms: 90210\n  end_ms: 92250\n- text: Niggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\n  start_ms: 92250\n  end_ms: 94690\n- text: It's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\n  start_ms: 94690\n  end_ms: 97730\n- text: Herb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\n  start_ms: 97730\n  end_ms: 100960\n- text: Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n  start_ms: 100960\n  end_ms: 103560\n- text: You wanna think twice, I think not\n  start_ms: 103560\n  end_ms: 105900\n- text: Da Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\n  start_ms: 105900\n  end_ms: 108220\n- text: Guns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n  start_ms: 108220\n  end_ms: 111860\n- text: I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n  start_ms: 111860\n  end_ms: 114470\n- text: Loot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\n  start_ms: 114470\n  end_ms: 117460\n- text: Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n  start_ms: 117460\n  end_ms: 120370\n- text: Tell your story walking\n  start_ms: 120370\n  end_ms: 122200\n- text: Take cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\n  start_ms: 122200\n  end_ms: 125170\n- text: Run for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\n  start_ms: 125170\n  end_ms: 127640\n- text: So I can squeeze with the advantage\n  start_ms: 127640\n  end_ms: 130010\n- text: And get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\n  start_ms: 130010\n  end_ms: 133270\n- text: Compared to mine\n  start_ms: 133270\n  end_ms: 134760\n- text: Domino effect, arts and crafts\n  start_ms: 134760\n  end_ms: 137320\n- text: Paragraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n  start_ms: 137320\n  end_ms: 140100\n- text: On my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n  start_ms: 140100\n  end_ms: 142860\n- text: For all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n  start_ms: 142860\n  end_ms: 146810\n- text: The saga continues\n  start_ms: 146810\n  end_ms: 148380\n- text: Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n  start_ms: 148380\n  end_ms: 150610\n- text: Olympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\n  start_ms: 150610\n  end_ms: 153170\n- text: The thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\n  start_ms: 153170\n  end_ms: 155380\n- text: We crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\n  start_ms: 155380\n  end_ms: 157990\n- text: For-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\n  start_ms: 157990\n  end_ms: 160380\n- text: Allow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\n  start_ms: 160380\n  end_ms: 163200\n- text: Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n  start_ms: 163200\n  end_ms: 166230\n- text: Tune spit the shit immortal combat sound\n  start_ms: 166230\n  end_ms: 168510\n- text: The fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\n  start_ms: 168510\n  end_ms: 171310\n- text: A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n  start_ms: 171310\n  end_ms: 174080\n- text: A death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n  start_ms: 174080\n  end_ms: 176400\n- text: Hold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\n  start_ms: 176400\n  end_ms: 178460\n- text: My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n  start_ms: 178460\n  end_ms: 182060\n- text: My music Sicily, rich California smell\n  start_ms: 182060\n  end_ms: 184460\n- text: An axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\n  start_ms: 184460\n  end_ms: 186950\n- text: I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n  start_ms: 186950\n  end_ms: 189380\n- text: Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\n  start_ms: 189380\n  end_ms: 191920\n- text: Watch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\n  start_ms: 191920\n  end_ms: 194720\n- text: A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n  start_ms: 194720\n  end_ms: 197140\n- text: Perpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n  start_ms: 197140\n  end_ms: 199990\n- text: Escape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\n  start_ms: 199990\n  end_ms: 202430\n- text: My beats travel like a vortex\n  start_ms: 202430\n  end_ms: 204200\n- text: Up your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\n  start_ms: 204200\n  end_ms: 207120\n- text: Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n  start_ms: 207120\n  end_ms: 209430\n- text: Enter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\n  start_ms: 209430\n  end_ms: 212690\n- text: Like Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n  start_ms: 212690\n  end_ms: 215470\n- text: Getting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\n  start_ms: 215470\n  end_ms: 218550\n- text: War of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\n  start_ms: 218550\n  end_ms: 221290\n- text: Many of the victims' families save they ashes\n  start_ms: 221290\n  end_ms: 223930\n- text: A million names on walls, engraved in plaques\n  start_ms: 223930\n  end_ms: 226470\n- text: Those who went back, received penalties for their acts\n  start_ms: 226470\n  end_ms: 228970\n- text: Another heart is torn, as close ones gone\n  start_ms: 228970\n  end_ms: 231850\n- text: Those who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\n  start_ms: 231850\n  end_ms: 234240\n- text: The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n  start_ms: 234240\n  end_ms: 237550\n- text: And leaks sounds that's heard\n  start_ms: 237550\n  end_ms: 239840\n- text: Ninety-three million miles away from came one\n  start_ms: 239840\n  end_ms: 242400\n- text: To represent the nation, this is a gathering\n  start_ms: 242400\n  end_ms: 244760\n- text: Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n  start_ms: 244760\n  end_ms: 248480\n- text: As we engage in battle\n  start_ms: 248480\n  end_ms: 250820\n- text: The crowd now screams in rage\n  start_ms: 250820\n  end_ms: 252290\n- text: The High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\n  start_ms: 252290\n  end_ms: 254960\n- text: Light is provided through sparks of energy\n  start_ms: 254960\n  end_ms: 257510\n- text: From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n  start_ms: 257510\n  end_ms: 260240\n- text: Giving sight to the blind\n  start_ms: 260240\n  end_ms: 261620\n- text: The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n  start_ms: 261620\n  end_ms: 264080\n- text: Death only one can save shell from\n  start_ms: 264080\n  end_ms: 266500\n- text: This relentless attack of the track spares none\n  start_ms: 266500\n  end_ms: 269300\n- text: Yo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\n  start_ms: 269300\n  end_ms: 273300\n- text: Lampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\n  start_ms: 273300\n  end_ms: 275920\n- text: Codeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\n  start_ms: 275920\n  end_ms: 278840\n- text: Salamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\n  start_ms: 278840\n  end_ms: 281190\n- text: You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n  start_ms: 281190\n  end_ms: 283960\n- text: Blowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\n  start_ms: 283960\n  end_ms: 286650\n- text: Sound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\n  start_ms: 286650\n  end_ms: 289400\n- text: Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n  start_ms: 289400\n  end_ms: 292200\n- text: Hold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\n  start_ms: 292200\n  end_ms: 294030\n- text: I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n  start_ms: 294030\n  end_ms: 296790\n- text: It's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\n  start_ms: 296790\n  end_ms: 299750\n- text: We like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\n  start_ms: 299750\n  end_ms: 302420\n- text: It's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\n  start_ms: 302420\n  end_ms: 305210\n- text: Rough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n  start_ms: 305210\n  end_ms: 307630\n- text: Aiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n  start_ms: 307630\n  end_ms: 311500\n- text: Connect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\n  start_ms: 311500\n  end_ms: 313070\n- text: Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n  start_ms: 313070\n  end_ms: 315660\n- text: New York gank adviser world tranquilizer\n  start_ms: 315660\n  end_ms: 318250\n- text: Just the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n  start_ms: 318250\n  end_ms: 320620\n- text: While my pen blow lines ferocious\n  start_ms: 320620\n  end_ms: 323550\n- text: Mediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\n  start_ms: 323550\n  end_ms: 326000\n- text: Then delegate the God to see God\n  start_ms: 326000\n  end_ms: 329080\n- text: The swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\n  start_ms: 329080\n  end_ms: 331270\n- text: Track truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\n  start_ms: 331270\n  end_ms: 334180\n- text: Max mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\n  start_ms: 334180\n  end_ms: 337240\n- text: Guaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland\n  start_ms: 337240\n  end_ms: 338590\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 338590\nplain: |-\n  I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\n  And hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\n  Mockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\n  Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n  Battle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n  Tremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\n  I inspect view through the future see millenium\n  Killa Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\n  Shacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\n  Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n  Black Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\n  Rumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\n  Heads by the score, take flight, incite a war\n  Chicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\n  Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n  Proceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\n  Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n\n  Wu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n\n  As the world turn, I spread like germs\n  Bless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\n  It's my testament to those burned\n  Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n  On foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\n  Transform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\n  In a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\n  In the line of fire holdin' back, what?\n  My people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\n  Niggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\n  It's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\n  Herb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\n  Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n  You wanna think twice, I think not\n\n  Da Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\n  Guns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n\n  I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n  Loot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\n  Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n  Tell your story walking\n  Take cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\n  Run for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\n  So I can squeeze with the advantage\n  And get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\n  Compared to mine\n\n  Domino effect, arts and crafts\n  Paragraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n\n  On my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n\n  For all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n  The saga continues\n\n  Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n  Olympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\n  The thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\n  We crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\n  For-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\n  Allow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\n  Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n  Tune spit the shit immortal combat sound\n  The fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\n  A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n  A death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n\n  Hold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\n  My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n  My music Sicily, rich California smell\n  An axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\n  I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n\n  Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\n  Watch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\n  A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n  Perpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n\n  Escape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\n  My beats travel like a vortex\n  Up your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\n  Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n  Enter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\n  Like Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n\n  Getting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\n  War of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\n  Many of the victims' families save they ashes\n  A million names on walls, engraved in plaques\n  Those who went back, received penalties for their acts\n  Another heart is torn, as close ones gone\n\n  Those who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\n  The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n  And leaks sounds that's heard\n  Ninety-three million miles away from came one\n  To represent the nation, this is a gathering\n  Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n\n  As we engage in battle\n  The crowd now screams in rage\n  The High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\n  Light is provided through sparks of energy\n  From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n  Giving sight to the blind\n  The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n  Death only one can save shell from\n\n  This relentless attack of the track spares none\n  Yo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\n  Lampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\n  Codeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\n  Salamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\n  You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n\n  Blowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\n  Sound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\n  Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n  Hold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\n  I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n  It's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\n  We like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\n  It's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\n  Rough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n\n  Aiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n  Connect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\n  Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n  New York gank adviser world tranquilizer\n  Just the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n  While my pen blow lines ferocious\n  Mediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\n  Then delegate the God to see God\n  The swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\n  Track truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\n  Max mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\n  Guaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland\n"},{"id":38058672,"name":"Triumph","trackName":"Triumph","artistName":"Wu-Tang Clan","albumName":"Wu-Tang Forever","duration":377.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\nAnd hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\nMockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\nFlee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\nBattle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\nTremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\nI inspect view through the future see millenium\nKilla Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\nShacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\nGraphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\nBlack Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\nRumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\nHeads by the score, take flight, incite a war\nChicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\nBehold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\nProceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\nStomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n\nWu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n\nAs the world turn, I spread like germs\nBless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\nIt's my testament to those burned\nPlay my position in the game of life standing firm\nOn foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\nTransform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\nIn a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\nIn the line of fire holdin' back, what?\nMy people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\nNiggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\nIt's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\nHerb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\nClot, we smoke pot and blow spots\nYou wanna think twice, I think not\n\nDa Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\nGuns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n\nI twist darts from the heart, tried and true\nLoot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\nCertified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\nTell your story walking\nTake cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\nRun for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\nSo I can squeeze with the advantage\nAnd get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\nCompared to mine\n\nDomino effect, arts and crafts\nParagraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n\nOn my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n\nFor all y'all to all praise to the Gods\nThe saga continues\n\nWu-Tang, Wu-Tang\nOlympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\nThe thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\nWe crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\nFor-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\nAllow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\nPocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\nTune spit the shit immortal combat sound\nThe fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\nA jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\nA death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n\nHold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\nMy orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\nMy music Sicily, rich California smell\nAn axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\nI sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n\nRighteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\nWatch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\nA thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\nPerpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n\nEscape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\nMy beats travel like a vortex\nUp your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\nMake you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\nEnter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\nLike Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n\nGetting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\nWar of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\nMany of the victims' families save they ashes\nA million names on walls, engraved in plaques\nThose who went back, received penalties for their acts\nAnother heart is torn, as close ones gone\n\nThose who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\nThe track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\nAnd leaks sounds that's heard\nNinety-three million miles away from came one\nTo represent the nation, this is a gathering\nOf the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n\nAs we engage in battle\nThe crowd now screams in rage\nThe High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\nLight is provided through sparks of energy\nFrom the mind that travels in rhyme form\nGiving sight to the blind\nThe dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\nDeath only one can save shell from\n\nThis relentless attack of the track spares none\nYo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\nLampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\nCodeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\nSalamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\nYou two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n\nBlowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\nSound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\nHands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\nHold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\nI humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\nIt's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\nWe like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\nIt's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\nRough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n\nAiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\nConnect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\nSwift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\nNew York gank adviser world tranquilizer\nJust the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\nWhile my pen blow lines ferocious\nMediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\nThen delegate the God to see God\nThe swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\nTrack truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\nMax mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\nGuaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Triumph\n  artist: Wu-Tang Clan\n  album: Wu-Tang Forever\n  duration_ms: 377000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\n  And hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\n  Mockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\n  Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n  Battle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n  Tremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\n  I inspect view through the future see millenium\n  Killa Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\n  Shacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\n  Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n  Black Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\n  Rumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\n  Heads by the score, take flight, incite a war\n  Chicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\n  Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n  Proceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\n  Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n\n  Wu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n\n  As the world turn, I spread like germs\n  Bless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\n  It's my testament to those burned\n  Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n  On foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\n  Transform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\n  In a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\n  In the line of fire holdin' back, what?\n  My people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\n  Niggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\n  It's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\n  Herb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\n  Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n  You wanna think twice, I think not\n\n  Da Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\n  Guns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n\n  I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n  Loot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\n  Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n  Tell your story walking\n  Take cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\n  Run for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\n  So I can squeeze with the advantage\n  And get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\n  Compared to mine\n\n  Domino effect, arts and crafts\n  Paragraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n\n  On my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n\n  For all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n  The saga continues\n\n  Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n  Olympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\n  The thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\n  We crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\n  For-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\n  Allow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\n  Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n  Tune spit the shit immortal combat sound\n  The fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\n  A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n  A death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n\n  Hold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\n  My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n  My music Sicily, rich California smell\n  An axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\n  I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n\n  Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\n  Watch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\n  A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n  Perpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n\n  Escape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\n  My beats travel like a vortex\n  Up your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\n  Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n  Enter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\n  Like Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n\n  Getting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\n  War of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\n  Many of the victims' families save they ashes\n  A million names on walls, engraved in plaques\n  Those who went back, received penalties for their acts\n  Another heart is torn, as close ones gone\n\n  Those who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\n  The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n  And leaks sounds that's heard\n  Ninety-three million miles away from came one\n  To represent the nation, this is a gathering\n  Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n\n  As we engage in battle\n  The crowd now screams in rage\n  The High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\n  Light is provided through sparks of energy\n  From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n  Giving sight to the blind\n  The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n  Death only one can save shell from\n\n  This relentless attack of the track spares none\n  Yo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\n  Lampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\n  Codeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\n  Salamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\n  You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n\n  Blowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\n  Sound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\n  Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n  Hold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\n  I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n  It's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\n  We like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\n  It's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\n  Rough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n\n  Aiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n  Connect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\n  Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n  New York gank adviser world tranquilizer\n  Just the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n  While my pen blow lines ferocious\n  Mediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\n  Then delegate the God to see God\n  The swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\n  Track truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\n  Max mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\n  Guaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland\n"},{"id":1903028,"name":"Triumph","trackName":"Triumph","artistName":"Wu‐Tang Clan","albumName":"Wu‐Tang Forever","duration":340.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\nAnd hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\nMockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\nFlee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\nBattle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\nTremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\nI inspect view through the future see millenium\nKilla Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\nShacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\nGraphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\nBlack Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\nRumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\nHeads by the score, take flight, incite a war\nChicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\nBehold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\nProceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\nStomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n\nWu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n\nAs the world turn, I spread like germs\nBless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\nIt's my testament to those burned\nPlay my position in the game of life standing firm\nOn foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\nTransform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\nIn a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\nIn the line of fire holdin' back, what?\nMy people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\nNiggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\nIt's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\nHerb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\nClot, we smoke pot and blow spots\nYou wanna think twice, I think not\n\nDa Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\nGuns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n\nI twist darts from the heart, tried and true\nLoot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\nCertified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\nTell your story walking\nTake cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\nRun for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\nSo I can squeeze with the advantage\nAnd get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\nCompared to mine\n\nDomino effect, arts and crafts\nParagraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n\nOn my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n\nFor all y'all to all praise to the Gods\nThe saga continues\n\nWu-Tang, Wu-Tang\nOlympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\nThe thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\nWe crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\nFor-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\nAllow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\nPocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\nTune spit the shit immortal combat sound\nThe fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\nA jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\nA death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n\nHold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\nMy orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\nMy music Sicily, rich California smell\nAn axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\nI sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n\nRighteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\nWatch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\nA thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\nPerpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n\nEscape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\nMy beats travel like a vortex\nUp your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\nMake you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\nEnter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\nLike Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n\nGetting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\nWar of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\nMany of the victims' families save they ashes\nA million names on walls, engraved in plaques\nThose who went back, received penalties for their acts\nAnother heart is torn, as close ones gone\n\nThose who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\nThe track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\nAnd leaks sounds that's heard\nNinety-three million miles away from came one\nTo represent the nation, this is a gathering\nOf the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n\nAs we engage in battle\nThe crowd now screams in rage\nThe High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\nLight is provided through sparks of energy\nFrom the mind that travels in rhyme form\nGiving sight to the blind\nThe dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\nDeath only one can save shell from\n\nThis relentless attack of the track spares none\nYo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\nLampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\nCodeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\nSalamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\nYou two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n\nBlowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\nSound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\nHands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\nHold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\nI humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\nIt's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\nWe like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\nIt's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\nRough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n\nAiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\nConnect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\nSwift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\nNew York gank adviser world tranquilizer\nJust the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\nWhile my pen blow lines ferocious\nMediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\nThen delegate the God to see God\nThe swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\nTrack truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\nMax mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\nGuaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Triumph\n  artist: Wu‐Tang Clan\n  album: Wu‐Tang Forever\n  duration_ms: 340000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies\n  And hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these\n  Mockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery\n  Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me\n  Battle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits\n  Tremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics\n  I inspect view through the future see millenium\n  Killa Beez sold fifty Gold sixty Platinum\n  Shacklin' the masses with drastic rap tactics\n  Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths\n  Black Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in\n  Rumble wit' patrolmen tear gas laced the function\n  Heads by the score, take flight, incite a war\n  Chicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more\n  Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly\n  Proceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi\n  Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock\n\n  Wu got it locked, performin' live on you hottest block\n\n  As the world turn, I spread like germs\n  Bless the globe with the pestilence, da hard-headed never learn\n  It's my testament to those burned\n  Play my position in the game of life standing firm\n  On foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire\n  Transform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack\n  In a streetcar named Desire, who got my back?\n  In the line of fire holdin' back, what?\n  My people if you wit' me where the fuck you at?\n  Niggaz is strapped, and they tryin' a twist my beer cap\n  It's court adjourned for the bad seed, from bad sperm\n  Herb got my wig fried, like a bad perm; what the blood-\n  Clot, we smoke pot and blow spots\n  You wanna think twice, I think not\n\n  Da Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from\n  Guns of Navarrone, tearin' up your battle zone, rip through your slums\n\n  I twist darts from the heart, tried and true\n  Loot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks\n  Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking\n  Tell your story walking\n  Take cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid\n  Run for your team, and your six can't rhyme groupies\n  So I can squeeze with the advantage\n  And get wasted, my deadly notes reigns supreme Your fort is basic\n  Compared to mine\n\n  Domino effect, arts and crafts\n  Paragraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride\n\n  On my dart, I got the fashion Catalogues\n\n  For all y'all to all praise to the Gods\n  The saga continues\n\n  Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang\n  Olympic torch flamin', we burn so sweet\n  The thrill of victory, the agony, defeat\n  We crush slow, flamin' deluxe slow\n  For-, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war\n  Allow us to escape, hell glow spinnin' bomb\n  Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms\n  Tune spit the shit immortal combat sound\n  The fake, false step make, the blood stain the ground\n  A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum\n  A death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem\n\n  Hold it for ransom, tranquilised with anesthetics\n  My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas\n  My music Sicily, rich California smell\n  An axekiller adventure, paint a picture well\n  I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on ginseng\n\n  Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring-king\n  Watch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us\n  A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober\n  Perpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare\n\n  Escape, from your dragon's lair--in particular\n  My beats travel like a vortex\n  Up your spine through the top of your cerebral cortex\n  Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex\n  Enter-through-your-right-ventricle-clog-up your bloodstream High Terminal\n  Like Grand Central Station, program fat baselines on Novation\n\n  Getting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation\n  War of the masses, the outcome, disastrous\n  Many of the victims' families save they ashes\n  A million names on walls, engraved in plaques\n  Those who went back, received penalties for their acts\n  Another heart is torn, as close ones gone\n\n  Those who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song\n  The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds\n  And leaks sounds that's heard\n  Ninety-three million miles away from came one\n  To represent the nation, this is a gathering\n  Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan\n\n  As we engage in battle\n  The crowd now screams in rage\n  The High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief takes the stage\n  Light is provided through sparks of energy\n  From the mind that travels in rhyme form\n  Giving sight to the blind\n  The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum\n  Death only one can save shell from\n\n  This relentless attack of the track spares none\n  Yo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back\n  Lampin' like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack\n  Codeine was forced in your drink, You had a navy dream\n  Salamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream\n  You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb\n\n  Blowing like Shalamar in eighty-one\n  Sound convincin', thousand dollar court by convention\n  Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission\n  Hold tha fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck\n  I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch\n  It's me, Black Noble Drew Ali Came in threes\n  We like the Genovese. Is that so? Caesar needs the greens\n  It's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first\n  Rough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz\n\n  Aiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk\n  Connect thoughts to make my man Shai walk\n  Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser\n  New York gank adviser world tranquilizer\n  Just the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives\n  While my pen blow lines ferocious\n  Mediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic sit down the beat God\n  Then delegate the God to see God\n  The swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula\n  Track truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala\n  Max mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening\n  Guaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland\n"}]