Luyện nghe bài hát Got Ur Self A...

Woke up mornin', (yeah)
You got a gun (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Got a gun

Yo, I'm livin' in this behind enemy lines so

I got mine, I you (got yo'self a gun)
You from the I hope you (got yo'self a gun)
You beef? I hope ya (got yo'self a gun)
And I see you I'ma take what I want
So, you tried to front, ya (got yo'self a gun)
You ain't real, hope ya (got a gun)

My, first album had no famous appearances
The outcome: I'm the best lyricist
Many on this professional level
Why would you question who's better? The world is still
Tattoos real "God's Son" across the belly
The of rap, you saw me in "Belly" with thoughts like that
To take it back to Africa, I did it with
Me and were soldiers of the same struggle
You lames should huddle, your shook
Y'all feel the wrath of a killer, 'cause is my football field
Throwin' from a barrel, shoulder pads apparel
But the Q.B. stand for no quarterback
word is like a sawed-off blast, 'cause y'all all soft
And I'm the black hearse that to haul y'all ass in
It's for the hood by the corner
try, many die, come at Nas if you want a war, get it bloody, uh

Yo, I'm the N the A to the
And If I wasn't, I must've Escobar
You know the kid got his chipped tooth
Hair parted with a preciseness, Bravehearted for life
It's the return of the Golden Child, son of a player
So who are you Y'all awaited the true savior
Puffin' that tropical, of that Vodka too
chu', tore up, wake up in a hospital
Throw up? Never, 'member I do this righteous steps
You thought I was gone, so in light of my death
Y'all been all happy-go-lucky, bunch of
Call me "God's Son", with my low
I don't die slow, put them rags up like Petey
This is Nasdaq dough, in my Nascar with this Nas
the beat back, now it's all reppin'
Hit the record sto', let me go, get my whole collection, yo

It's, the, return of the Prince, the
This is real hardcore, Kid Rock and Bizkit's soft
Sip Cris', get chips, gliss, I floss
Stick shift, sick up in that Boxter Porsche
the top cut off, rich kids go and cop The Source
They don't about the blocks I'm on
And everybody want to know where the kid go? he rest at?
Where he shop at and at?
Know he got dough, where does he live? Is he in the bridge?
Does he really know how ill he is?
Got all of watchin' my moves, my watch and my jewels
Hop in my coupe, dodge interviews that
It's not only my jewels, ice anything, plenty
Look at my shoes, I iced that
Who am I? The back-twister,
leg-spreader, quicker brain-getter
Keepin' it gangsta ya, uh

x2]