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 time behind lines so

I got mine, I you (got yo'self a gun)
You from the hood I you (got yo'self a gun)
You want beef? I hope ya (got a gun)
And when I see you I'ma take what I
So, you to front, hope ya (got yo'self a gun)
You real, hope ya (got yo'self a gun)

My, first album had no famous guest
The outcome: I'm crowned the best
Many years on this professional
Why would you question who's better? The world is mine
Tattoos with "God's Son" across the belly
The boss of rap, you saw me in "Belly" thoughts like that
To it back to Africa, I did it with Biggie
Me and Tupac soldiers of the same struggle
You lames should huddle, your team's
Y'all feel the wrath of a killer, this is my football field
passes from a barrel, shoulder pads apparel
But the Q.B. don't for no quarterback
Every word is like a sawed-off blast, 'cause all soft
And I'm the black hearse that to haul y'all ass in
It's for the by the corner store
Many try, many die, 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 been
You know the kid got his tooth fixed
Hair parted with a preciseness, Bravehearted for life
It's the return of the Child, son of a blue's player
So who are you playa? Y'all awaited the true
that tropical, cups of that Vodka too
Papi chu', tore up, 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, of sambos
Call me "God's Son", with my low
I don't die slow, put rags up like Petey Pablo
This is Nasdaq dough, in my with this Nas flow
Flip the beat back, now all reppin'
Hit the sto', never let me go, get my whole collection, yo

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

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