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 enemy so

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

My, first album had no guest appearances
The outcome: I'm crowned the best
Many years on this professional
Why would you question better? The world is still mine
Tattoos with "God's Son" across the belly
The boss of rap, you saw me in "Belly" thoughts like that
To take it back to Africa, I did it Biggie
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 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 corner
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 chipped 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 the true savior
Puffin' that tropical, of that Vodka too
Papi chu', tore up, wake up in a
Throw up? Never, 'member I do this through righteous
You Judists thought I was gone, so in light of my
been all happy-go-lucky, bunch of sambos
Call me "God's Son", my pants low
I don't die slow, put rags up like Petey Pablo
This is dough, in my Nascar with this Nas flow
Flip the back, now it's all reppin'
Hit the record sto', never let me go, get my 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
Stick shift, sick up in that Boxter Porsche
With the top cut off, kids go and cop The Source
don't know about the blocks I'm on
And want to know where the kid go? Where he rest at?
Where he shop at and at?
Know he got dough, where does he Is he still in the bridge?
he really know how ill that he is?
Got all of y'all watchin' my moves, my and my jewels
Hop in my coupe, dodge interviews like
not only my jewels, ice anything, plenty chains
Look at my shoes, I iced that
Who am I? The back-twister,
leg-spreader, quicker brain-getter
Keepin' it gangsta ya, uh

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