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 enemy lines so

I got mine, I you (got yo'self a gun)
You from the I hope you (got yo'self a gun)
You want beef? I hope ya (got 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, ya (got yo'self a gun)

My, first album had no famous guest
The outcome: I'm the best lyricist
Many on this professional level
Why would you question who's better? The world is still
Tattoos real with "God's Son" the belly
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, team's shook
feel the wrath of a killer, 'cause this is my football field
Throwin' passes from a barrel, pads apparel
But the Q.B. don't stand for no
Every word is like a sawed-off blast, 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, 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 Golden Child, son of a blue's
So who are you playa? Y'all awaited the true
that tropical, cups of that Vodka too
Papi chu', tore up, up in a hospital
Throw up? Never, 'member I do this righteous steps
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 them up like Petey Pablo
This is Nasdaq dough, in my with this 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 hardcore, Kid Rock and Limp Bizkit's soft
Sip Cris', get chips, wrist gliss, I
Stick shift, look sick up in that Boxter
With the top cut off, rich kids go and cop The
They know about the blocks I'm on
And everybody want to know the kid go? Where he rest at?
he shop at and dress 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 watchin' my moves, my watch and my jewels
Hop in my coupe, dodge interviews like
It's not only my jewels, ice anything, chains
Look at my shoes, I iced that
Who am I? The back-twister,
Automatic leg-spreader, brain-getter
Keepin' it gangsta ya, uh

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