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 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 I want
So, you to front, hope ya (got yo'self a gun)
You ain't real, hope ya (got a gun)

My, album had no famous guest appearances
The outcome: I'm the best lyricist
Many on this professional level
Why you question who's better? The world is still mine
Tattoos real with "God's Son" across the
The boss of rap, you saw me in "Belly" thoughts like that
To it back to Africa, I did it with Biggie
Me and Tupac were soldiers of the struggle
You lames should huddle, team's 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
word is like a sawed-off blast, 'cause y'all all soft
And I'm the black hearse that came to 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 been Escobar
You the kid got his chipped tooth 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? awaited the true savior
Puffin' that tropical, cups of Vodka too
Papi chu', tore up, up in a hospital
up? Never, 'member I do this through righteous steps
You Judists thought I was gone, so in of my death
Y'all been all happy-go-lucky, of sambos
Call me "God's Son", my pants low
I don't die slow, put them rags up Petey Pablo
This is dough, in my Nascar with this Nas flow
Flip the beat back, now it's all
Hit the sto', never let me go, get my whole collection, yo

It's, the, of the Prince, the boss
This is real hardcore, Kid Rock and Bizkit's soft
Sip Cris', get chips, gliss, I floss
Stick shift, look sick up in Boxter Porsche
With the top cut off, kids go and cop The Source
They know about the blocks I'm on
And want 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 how ill that he is?
Got all of y'all my moves, my watch and my jewels
Hop in my coupe, dodge like that
not only my jewels, ice anything, plenty chains
Look at my tennis shoes, I iced
Who am I? The back-twister,
Automatic leg-spreader, brain-getter
Keepin' it wit' ya, uh

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