[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
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