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 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 beef? I hope ya (got yo'self a gun)
And when I see you I'ma take what I
So, you tried to front, ya (got yo'self a gun)
You ain't real, hope ya (got a gun)

My, first had no famous guest appearances
The outcome: I'm crowned the lyricist
Many years on professional level
Why would you who's better? The world is still mine
Tattoos real "God's Son" across the belly
The boss of rap, you saw me in "Belly" with thoughts that
To it back to Africa, I did it with Biggie
Me and Tupac soldiers of the same struggle
You lames should huddle, your shook
Y'all feel the wrath of a killer, 'cause this is my football
passes from a barrel, shoulder pads apparel
But the Q.B. stand for no quarterback
Every word is like a sawed-off blast, y'all all soft
And I'm the black that came to haul y'all ass in
It's for the by the corner store
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 been Escobar
You know the kid got his chipped fixed
parted with a barber's preciseness, Bravehearted for life
It's the of the Golden Child, son of a blue's player
So who are you playa? Y'all awaited the true
Puffin' that tropical, cups of Vodka too
Papi chu', tore up, wake up in a
Throw up? Never, 'member I do this through steps
You Judists thought I was gone, so in 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 this Nas
Flip the back, now it's all reppin'
Hit the record sto', let me go, get my whole collection, yo

It's, the, of the Prince, the boss
This is hardcore, Kid Rock and Limp Bizkit's soft
Sip Cris', get chips, wrist gliss, I
Stick shift, look sick up in that Porsche
With the top cut off, kids go and cop The Source
They know about the blocks I'm on
And everybody want to know where the kid go? Where he at?
Where he at and dress at?
Know he got dough, does he live? 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
It's not my jewels, ice anything, plenty chains
Look at my tennis shoes, I that
Who am I? The back-twister,
leg-spreader, quicker brain-getter
Keepin' it wit' ya, uh

x2]