Lyrics:

'I tote guns, I make number runs
I, I tote guns, I make number runs
I, I tote guns, I, I tote guns
I, I tote guns, I, I tote guns
I, I tote guns, I make number runs'

I shot ya
Arm & Hammer man got the hammer
Red bandana, get green, Bruce Banner (huh!)
Shakedown blocks, snapshots, no camera
Tote big guns, I'm a heavy metal handler
.38 Special, trey pound magnum
AK-47, run out of bullets, I stab 'em
Firearms, got 'em, who want a problem?
Hollows on the top, copper heads on the bottom
9 millimeter, gimme gun fever
Cold cold drink, Arm got it by the litre (what else?)
Holla at ya dog, realest hustler of all
Shoppin' with the Cafe is like shoppin' at the mall
I be the supplier for ambitious buyers
Ecstasy, rollin' like Michelin tires (huh!)
Nah, I ain't no multi-millionaire
But please believe, I'm the hardest nigga here

'I tote guns, I make number runs
I, I tote guns, I, I tote guns
I, I tote guns, I make number runs
I, I tote guns, I make number runs'

What I'm sayin' when it's done right
There's nothin' like Red Cafe
There's nothin' like Biggie
There's nothin' like Nas
There's nothin' like KRS-One, Rakim
There's nothin' like that

Huh, I shot ya
Now it's blood on my shoulder
Shakedown soldier, ten black Rovers
And the goons bite like poisonous Cobras (ahh!)
Inglewood niggas, I salute hood niggas (huh!)
Goons anywhere
Puttin' up at least seven numbers every year
Slappin' hoes, derriere
Strap in my waist yo' strap in the safe
If it wasn't for this rap, I'd be shootin' up the place
Guns I done bust 'em, dippin' through customs
With that uncut that'll tear ya nose up (what else?)
I flows through the city on my own nuts
See I'm layin' on bread, homie, that's cold cuts
Huh, more deals than Burger King
Big Bentley, what the Arm & Hammer swervin' in (yeah!)
And my block work like clock work
Familiar with Wall Street, I'll show you how the stocks work

'I tote guns, I make number runs
I, I tote guns, I, I tote guns
I, I tote guns, I make number runs
I, I tote guns, I make number runs...'