New York

And I was just about to find God
True Story, I'm bringin' the T back
Ha I'm just like you
Depending on how you treat her, you might get rich

And this is how we do
It's guaranteed you gonna die, you might get missed

And the Pinky got bling, like the ring around Saturn
But now that maze is back, I think I'd much rather find a menage
I got a hundred guns, a hundred clips, nigga I'm from New York

I got a hundred guns, a hundred clips, nigga I'm from New York

My nigga Dre said grind cook
Ruff Ryde, and D block and shit, nigga fuck what you thought
And you can tell the way the homie spit, 'cause nigga I'm from New York!
And Rule gonna bring the ghetto gospel
You're print distrified, you're no longer desired
Who said I must of found Pun's rhyme book?
I got a hundred guns, a hundred clips, nigga I'm from New York

I might get my Brooklyn niggaz to run in your house
Nigga, I can see the coke in your nose
But when I let 'em know the dope is out, it's like America Online
Not me, I'm the truth homie, got the industry shook like

Back with the Gods you now, preferably the 4 pound
This ain't a movie, even he got his head blown on the globe

Tryin' to catch the ears of niggaz that's runnin' their mouths
So when you tell me I'm the best it's a compliment
And this is how we do
And you already know the X is where the team be at
And you can't take shit for granted, because life is too short
Got bitches on top of the Phantom
For maybe 2 or 3 hours, till they light their spliffs
And you can tell I get real ignorant, 'cause nigga, I'm from New York
But we know this investigatin', and they ain't spray shit
And I know

And you can tell the way the homie spit, that nigga, I'm from New York
I got a hundred guns, a hundred clips, nigga I'm from New York

But we're hunters, we take pride in airin' our prey out
Y'all niggaz is pussy, poonani, vagina

"Naw nigga, Joe gonna let 'em loose on me"
Your monologue's getting tired, now it's time to ride
I got a hundred guns, a hundred clips, nigga I'm from New York

Stick up kids, hoppin' out with them old rifles
I swear it couldn't be sweeter, life's a bitch
I got a semi automatic that spits next time if you talk
Just doin' shit for nothin, it's so spiteful
"You deserved it whenever you die with your eyes open"
And that coke will get you a long time
I got a hundred guns, a hundred clips, nigga I'm from New York
So take off them silly chains, put back on your wire
Wise has awoken, and you know they say that
Let each coast bang, let west coast bang

To every hood possible, pushin' through in the sky blue
Word that niggaz wanna murk you is in the air
'Cause we ain't playin' up here in New York
Slugs flyin' at the speed of sound
I don't really understand what the runnin's about
And I'm not cocky, I'm confident
Cook coke, crack, niggaz fiend for that

A double shot of yak and the purple is in the air
Even Roy Jones was forced to lean back
Now we killin' them Howard niggaz

Leavin' 'em layed out, dead, in just a sport
I'm on fire, holly dipped in octane
And everybody talkin' crazy how they're AK spit

I got a hundred ways to make a grip, yes, I'm from New York
I still hold a title, because I'm in the hood like them little motorcycles
I got a semi automatic that spits next time if you talk