[Intro: Dre]
Uhhhh
Haah, haah, haah
This is, this is, this is, this is, this is
Uhhh
This is, this is
Hundred guns
Uh

[Chorus: Ja Rule]
I got a hundred guns, a hundred clips
N***a 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
N***a I'm from New York, New York
I got a semi-automatic that spits
Next time if you talk, you talk
And I know

[Verse 1: Ja Rule]
Y'all n***as 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 (Oohhhhhh!)
To every hood possiblе, pushin' through in the sky blue
Back with the God, you now, prеferably the four pound
Slugs flyin' at the speed of sound
Tryna catch the ears of n***as that's runnin' they mouths
I might get my Brooklyn n***as to run in your house
I don't really understand what the runnin'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
[Chorus: Fat Joe]
I got a hundred guns, a hundred clips
N***a I'm from New York, New York
And you can tell the way the homie spit (Woo!)
That n***a I'm from New York, New York (BX, BX)
I got a hundred ways to make a grip (Uh, uh)
Yes, (yes) I'm from New York, New York
And you can tell I get real ignorant (Blat, blat, blat, blat!)
'Cause n***a I'm from New York, New York
And this is how we do

[Verse 2: Fat Joe]
N***a I could 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, (ha ha) I think I'd much rather find a ménage
And e'eybody 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 n***a, 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 n***a Dre said, "grind, Cook", now we killin' them hard
N***as sayin' 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, n***as fiend for that
And you already know the X is where the team be at, uhh
[Chorus: Ja Rule]
I got a hundred guns, a hundred clips
N***a I'm from New York, New York
Where even bitches ain't havin' that shit right here in New York, New York
Where you from? n***a rep yo set
Let the guns pop off, pop off
I got a hundred guns, a hundred clips
N***a I'm from New York, New York
And you know

[Verse 3: Ja Rule]
New York's my fuckin' stompin' ground
Not from Atlanta but I'll A-Town stomp ya down
'Cause yo style is my style, don't make me get hostile or pistal and thunder clap that ass like dance [?]
Clap, ssss, clap
Baby 'cause I'm from New York
That don't mean I don't love L.A. (I love L.A.)
Or the M.I.A. 'cause every hoods the same
From Houston to Fort Green, from the Chi to Hollis Queens, things
Subject to change 'cause I'm livin' by any means (come on) necessary
One might even ask (you know) is it necessary
To bust guns (oh) but my behavior's hereditary (oh)
My two sons (oh) they emulate this behavior already (go)
Livin' in a big city
You know big guns, big cars, big willies (Ja, baby)
I don' rolled weed and two Phillies [?] [?]
And we don't we keep our cash and banks's in night boxes, ha ha
[Chorus: Ja Rule & Fat Joe]
I got a hundred guns, a hundred clips
N***a I'm from New York
New York
And you could tell the way the homie spit
That n***a I'm from New York
New York
I got a hundred guns, a hundred clips
N***a I'm from New York
New York
And you can tell I get real ignorant
'Cause n***a I'm from New York
New York
And this is how we do