Music

Uh, ha-ha-ha-ha

This is, this is, this is, this is, this is-

Uh

This is, this is-

I got a hundred guns, uh

I got a hundred guns, a hundred clips

Nigga, I'm from New York, New York

I got a semi-automatic that spits

Next time if you talk, you talk

I got a hundred guns, a hundred clips

Nigga, I'm from New York, New York

I got a semi-automatic that spits

Next time if you talk, you talk

And I know

Y'all niggas is pussy, punani, vagina

Your monologue's getting tired, now it's time to ride

Apprentice, you fired, you're no longer desired

So take off them silly chains, put back on your wire

I'm on fire, highly dipped in octane

Let East Coast bang, let West Coast bang

And Rule gon' bring the ghetto gospel

To every hood possible, pushing through in the sky blue

Back with the God-U-now, preferably the four pound

Slugs flying at the speed of sound

Tryna catch the ears of niggas that's running their mouths

I might get my Brooklyn niggas to run in your house

I don't really understand what the running's about

But we're hunters, we take pride in airing our prey out

Leaving 'em laid out dead, and just a sport

'Cause we ain't playin' up here in New York

I got a hundred guns, a hundred clips

Nigga, I'm from New York, New York (yes)

And you can tell the way that homie spit (whoo!)

That nigga, I'm from New York, New York (BX, BX, nigga, uh)

I got a hundred ways to make a grip

Yes, I'm from New York, New York (yes, uh)

And you can tell I get real ignorant (blatt, blatt, blatt)

'Cause nigga, I'm from New York, New York

And this is how we do

Nigga, I can see the coke in your nose

This ain't a movie, even he got his head blown on the globe

And I was just about to find God

But now that Ma$e is back, I think I'd much rather find a ménage

And everybody talkin' crazy how they AK spit

But we done did some 'vestigating, and they ain't spray shit

Not me, I'm the truth, homie, got the industry shook

Like, "Naw, nigga, Joe gon' let 'em loose on me"

True story, I'm bringing the T back

Even Roy Jones was forced to lean back (lean back)

My nigga Dre said, "Grind, Cook"

Now we killing 'em hard

Niggas said I must've found Pun's rhyme book

Got bitches on top of the Phantom

And the pinky got bling like the ring around Saturn

Cook, Coke, Crack, niggas fiend for that

And you already know the X is where the team be at, uh

I got a hundred guns, a hundred clips

Nigga, I'm from New York, New York (yeah)

Ruff Rydin', D-Block and shit

Nigga, fuck what you thought, you thought (a-ha!)

And you can't take shit for granted

'Cause life is too short, too short (yeah)

I got a hundred guns, a hundred clips (uh, yeah)

Nigga, I'm from New York (a-ha!)

And this is how we do

Yo, I swear it couldn't be sweeter, life's a bitch

Dependin' on how you treat her, you might get rich

It's guaranteed you gon' die, and you might get missed

For maybe two or three hours, 'til they light they spliffs

And that coke will get you a long time

But when I let 'em know the dope is out, it's like America Online

Wise has awoken, and you know they say that you deserved it

Whenever you die with your eyes open

I still hold the title, 'cause I'm in the hood like them little motorcycles

Stick up kids hoppin' out with the old rifles

Just doing shit for nothin', it's so spiteful, ha, I'm just like you

Word that niggas wanna murk you is in the air (uh)

A double shot of 'gnac and the purple is in the air (uh)

And I'm not cocky, I'm confident

So when you tell me I'm the best it's a compliment, a-ha!

I got a hundred guns, a hundred clips

Nigga, I'm from New York, New York

And you can tell the way that homie spit

That nigga, I'm from New York, New York

I got a hundred guns, a hundred clips

Nigga, I'm from New York, New York

I got a semi-automatic that spits

Next time if you talk (ah-ha)

And this is how we do