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 hood I you (got yo'self a gun)
You want beef? I 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 ain't real, ya (got yo'self a gun)

My, album had no famous guest appearances
The I'm crowned the best lyricist
years on this 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 take it back to Africa, I did it 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. 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
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 must've Escobar
You know the kid got his chipped tooth
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 Y'all awaited 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 Judists I was gone, so in light of my death
Y'all all happy-go-lucky, bunch of sambos
Call me "God's Son", with my low
I die slow, put them rags up like Petey Pablo
This is Nasdaq dough, in my Nascar with Nas flow
Flip the beat back, now it's all
Hit the record sto', never let me go, get my collection, yo

It's, the, return of the Prince, the
is real hardcore, Kid Rock and Limp Bizkit's soft
Sip Cris', get chips, gliss, I floss
Stick shift, look sick up in that Boxter
With the top cut off, rich kids go and cop The
They don't know the blocks I'm on
And everybody want to where the kid go? Where he rest at?
Where he shop at and at?
Know he got dough, where does he live? Is he in the bridge?
he really 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 only my jewels, ice anything, plenty
Look at my tennis shoes, I iced
Who am I? The back-twister,
Automatic leg-spreader, brain-getter
Keepin' it gangsta ya, uh

x2]