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 the hood 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 tried to front, ya (got yo'self a gun)
You real, hope ya (got yo'self a gun)

My, first album had no famous guest
The outcome: I'm the best lyricist
Many years on professional level
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" with like that
To take it back to Africa, I did it with
Me and Tupac soldiers of the same struggle
You should huddle, your team's shook
Y'all feel the wrath of a killer, 'cause this is my football
Throwin' passes from a barrel, shoulder apparel
But the Q.B. stand for no quarterback
Every is like a sawed-off blast, 'cause y'all all soft
And I'm the black hearse came to haul y'all ass in
for the hood 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 the kid got his chipped tooth fixed
Hair parted with a preciseness, Bravehearted for life
It's the return of the Golden Child, son of a blue's
So who are you playa? Y'all the true savior
Puffin' that tropical, of that Vodka too
chu', tore up, wake up in a hospital
Throw up? Never, 'member I do through righteous steps
You Judists thought I was gone, so in of my death
Y'all been all happy-go-lucky, bunch of
me "God's Son", with my pants low
I don't die slow, put them rags up Petey Pablo
This is Nasdaq dough, in my Nascar this Nas flow
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 real hardcore, Kid Rock and Limp soft
Sip Cris', get chips, wrist gliss, I
Stick shift, look up in that Boxter Porsche
the top cut off, rich kids go and cop The Source
They don't know the blocks I'm on
And everybody want to know where the kid go? Where he at?
he shop at and dress at?
Know he got dough, where does he live? Is he in the bridge?
Does he know how ill that he is?
Got all of y'all watchin' my moves, my watch and my
Hop in my coupe, dodge like that
It's not my jewels, ice anything, plenty chains
at my tennis shoes, I iced that
Who am I? The back-twister,
leg-spreader, quicker brain-getter
Keepin' it gangsta ya, uh

x2]