Gun Ho City

Lyrics

[Verse 1: Kool G Rap] I'm biggest lifetime combat when there's beef with a don cat You rhyme with your peoples, you get put up in their contract Two steps, rack a gat from the arm strap Wet up your North Face, severs like a swam bag NYPD, be careful where you place your palm at Rules to follow, a walking don like Diallo Body donated to science, lungs in a bottle Play and get laid flat as bums on a model No drive-by, connect your ear drum to the nozzle It's gunplay all day, I fiddle with clips Spray shot in the middle with clicks Get your brains popped to Kibbles 'N Bits Halfway shots are riddle, the risk Ain't no way pop griddle with this Don't call it New York, this is Gun-Ho City Leave your fuckin' head puffed up like done on Diddy Shit bag on your stomach like a fat ho's titties Everything around me ugly, it ain't no pretty Don't pause the green if the slain thrown is iffy Cock back the thing, drop the frame in a jiffy Nigga tipsy, holes in your bladder, drain out the whisky Fuck a fort, nigga, turn up the flames 'til it's crispy The flames on the side of your rings like whips in the 50's Separate a nigga head from the frame like a mystic [Chorus: Kool G. Rap] Don't call it New York, this is Gun Ho City! (Laugh that sounds like Vincent Price) Don't call it New York, this is Gun Ho City! Don't call it New York, this is Gun Ho City! [Verse 2: Canibus] I walk in the room in the Dr. Doom costume Optic zoom, the plot resumes Trust me you're the abductee My trigger finger touchy Try me, see if you lucky Blam, slam, desplam, motherfuckin' mayhem Stupid, you can't contain him 'cause you trained him Love the bad weather, freckle-faced lepers Can't go outside, gotta stay together Lodge members don't attempt to announce my name The brown sage one year away from my crown age Count the ways my sound waves been downplayed USA underground made, I live without fame Hard labor for the data reincarnator Rip your carborator out your car and chase ya, I hate ya I'm the Gun-Ho City mayor Who's in charge out here? Who's the fuckface, huh? Bang on you, dunk-slam on you, Cani get on you Watch who you talk to, my manager warned you Violatin,' you rhyme weak, you libate Put you behind the gate with the 5'8" primate I improvise, explode, synthesize flows Like your favorite MC with the wide nose Command shell is a PSP hand held In real time speed I could read fan mail Grip the pound, blitz the town with a two or three round You'll never want that to go down Spin around and shoot at you, 180 degree cupola Attacks to my van on Utica Next stop Gun Ho City, nigga, shoot 'em up G Rap and Canibus blew 'em up