Ja Rule – New York

Uhhhh, uhhhh
Haah, haah, haah, haah
This is, this is, this is, this is, this is
Uhhh
This is, this is
I got a hundred guns

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 gettin’ 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 (Ooh!)
To every hood possible, pushin’ through in the sky blue
Back with the God, you now, preferably the four pound
Slugs flyin’ at the speed of sound
Tryna catch the ears of niggas that’s runnin’ they mouths
I might get my Brooklyn niggas to run in your house
I don’t really understand what the running’s about
But we hunters, we take pride in airing our prey out
Leavin’ ’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, hahaha),
And you can tell the way the homie spit (Woo!)
That nigga I’m from New York, New York (BX, BX, uh)
I got a hundred ways to make a grip (Uh, uh)
Yes, I’m from New York, New York (Yes, uh),
And you can tell I get real ignorant (Blat, blat, blat, blat!)
‘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 talking crazy how they AK spit
But we don’ 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 bringin’ the T back
Even Roy Jones was forced to lean back (Lean back)
My nigga Dre said, “grind Cook”, now we killin’ them 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, uhh

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 (Uh, ah-heh!)
And this is how we do

Yo, I swear it couldn’t be sweeter, life’s a bitch
Depending on how you treat her, you might get rich
It’s guaranteed you gon’ die, 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 them 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
A double shot of ‘gnac and the purple is in the air
And I’m not cocky, I’m confident
So when you tell me I’m the best it’s a compliment
Ha-heh!

I got a hundred guns, a hundred clips
Nigga, I’m from New York, New York
And you can tell the way the 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-heh!)
And this is how we do