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 hood I you (got yo'self a gun)
You want beef? I ya (got yo'self a gun)
And I see you I'ma take 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 appearances
The I'm crowned the best lyricist
Many years on this professional
Why would you question who's better? The is still mine
Tattoos real "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 with
Me and Tupac were soldiers of the struggle
You lames huddle, your team's shook
Y'all feel the wrath of a killer, 'cause this is my football
Throwin' passes from a barrel, shoulder pads
But the Q.B. don't stand for no
Every word is like a 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, 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 must've Escobar
You know the kid got his tooth fixed
Hair parted with a preciseness, Bravehearted for life
It's the of the Golden Child, son of a blue's player
So who are you playa? Y'all the true savior
Puffin' that tropical, cups of Vodka too
Papi chu', up, wake up in a hospital
Throw up? Never, 'member I do through righteous steps
You thought 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 die slow, put them rags 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', never let me go, get my collection, yo

It's, the, return of the Prince, the
This is real hardcore, Kid Rock and Limp 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 everybody want to know where the kid go? Where he at?
Where he shop at and at?
Know he got dough, where does he live? Is he still in the
Does he really how ill that he is?
Got all of y'all watchin' my moves, my and my jewels
Hop in my coupe, interviews like that
It's not only my jewels, ice anything, chains
Look at my tennis shoes, I that
Who am I? The back-twister,
Automatic leg-spreader, brain-getter
it gangsta wit' ya, uh

x2]