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New York Lyrics - Artist : Ja Rule
This is, this is
This is, this is I got a hundred guns, a hundred clips 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're fired, you're no longer desired So take off them silly chains, put back on your wire I'm on fire; Harley 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 gods, you now, preferably the four pound Slugs flying at the speed of sound Trying to 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, in just a sport 'Cause we ain't playing up here in New York 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 ways to make a grip Yes, I'm from New York (New York) And you can tell I get real ignorant '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 menage And everybody talking crazy how they're AK spit But we done did some investigating, 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 My nigga Dre said, "Grind, Cook" Now we killing 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, uh I got a hundred guns, a hundred clips Nigga, I'm from New York (New York) Ruff Ryde, and D-Block and shit Nigga, fuck what you thought (you thought) And you can't take shit for granted 'Cause life is too short (too short) I got a hundred guns, a hundred clips Nigga, I'm from New York (Ha-haaaeeh! And this is how we do) 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 'gac 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-haaaeeh! 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, you talk (And this is how we do) |
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