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 time behind enemy lines so

I got mine, I you (got yo'self a gun)
You from the hood I hope you (got 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 ain't real, ya (got yo'self a gun)

My, first album had no guest appearances
The outcome: I'm the best lyricist
Many years on professional level
Why would you question who's The world is still mine
Tattoos real with "God's Son" across the
The boss of rap, you saw me in "Belly" thoughts like that
To take it back to Africa, I did it with
Me and Tupac soldiers of the same struggle
You lames should huddle, your shook
Y'all the wrath of a killer, 'cause this is my football field
passes from a barrel, shoulder pads apparel
But the Q.B. don't stand for no
Every is like a sawed-off blast, 'cause y'all all soft
And I'm the hearse that came to haul y'all ass in
It's for the hood by the store
Many try, 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 tooth fixed
parted with a barber's preciseness, Bravehearted for life
It's the return of the Child, son of a blue's player
So who are you playa? Y'all the true savior
Puffin' that tropical, cups of that too
Papi chu', up, wake up in a hospital
Throw up? Never, 'member I do this through righteous
You Judists thought I was gone, so in light of my
Y'all all happy-go-lucky, bunch of sambos
me "God's Son", with my pants low
I don't die slow, put rags up like Petey Pablo
This is Nasdaq dough, in my Nascar with Nas flow
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 Limp soft
Sip Cris', get chips, wrist gliss, I
Stick shift, look sick up in that Boxter
With the top cut off, rich go and cop The Source
don't know 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, does he live? 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, chains
Look at my tennis shoes, I iced
Who am I? The back-twister,
Automatic leg-spreader, brain-getter
it gangsta wit' ya, uh

x2]