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 in this time behind enemy lines so

I got mine, I hope you (got a gun)
You from the I hope you (got yo'self a gun)
You want 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 famous appearances
The outcome: I'm crowned the best
Many years on professional level
Why would you question who's better? The world is mine
real 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
Y'all feel the wrath of a killer, 'cause this is my football
Throwin' passes from a barrel, shoulder apparel
But the Q.B. don't stand for no
word is like a sawed-off blast, 'cause y'all all soft
And I'm the black hearse came to haul y'all ass in
It's for the hood by the store
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 been
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
that tropical, cups of that Vodka too
Papi chu', tore up, up in a hospital
Throw up? Never, 'member I do through righteous steps
You Judists I was gone, so in light of my death
Y'all all happy-go-lucky, bunch of sambos
Call me "God's Son", my pants low
I don't die slow, put them up like Petey Pablo
This is Nasdaq dough, in my Nascar with Nas flow
the beat back, now it's all reppin'
Hit the sto', never 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
shift, look sick up in that Boxter Porsche
With the top cut off, kids go and cop The Source
They don't know about the I'm on
And everybody to know where the kid go? Where 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, interviews 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
Keepin' it gangsta ya, uh

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