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 I hope 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 tried to front, hope ya (got a gun)
You ain't real, ya (got yo'self a gun)

My, first album had no famous appearances
The I'm crowned the best lyricist
Many on this professional level
Why would you who's better? The world is still mine
Tattoos with "God's Son" across the belly
The boss of rap, you saw me in "Belly" with like that
To take it back to Africa, I did it with
Me and Tupac were soldiers of the struggle
You lames should huddle, your team's
feel the wrath of a killer, 'cause this is my football field
Throwin' passes a barrel, shoulder pads apparel
But the Q.B. stand for no quarterback
Every word is like a sawed-off blast, 'cause all soft
And I'm the hearse that came to haul y'all ass in
It's for the hood by the corner
Many try, many die, come at Nas if you 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 chipped fixed
Hair parted with a barber's preciseness, Bravehearted for
It's the return of the Golden Child, son of a blue's
So who are you playa? Y'all awaited the true
Puffin' that tropical, cups of that too
chu', tore up, wake up in a hospital
Throw up? Never, I do this through righteous steps
You Judists thought I was gone, so in 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
is Nasdaq dough, in my Nascar with this Nas flow
Flip the beat back, now it's all
Hit the record sto', let me go, get my whole collection, yo

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

x2]