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 behind lines so

I got mine, I you (got yo'self a gun)
You from the hood I hope you (got a gun)
You beef? I hope ya (got yo'self a gun)
And I see you I'ma take what I want
So, you tried to front, hope ya (got a gun)
You ain't real, hope ya (got a gun)

My, first had no famous guest appearances
The outcome: I'm crowned the best
Many years on this level
Why would you who's better? The world is still mine
Tattoos real "God's Son" across the belly
The of rap, you saw me in "Belly" with thoughts like that
To take it to Africa, I did it with Biggie
Me and were 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 pads
But the Q.B. don't for no quarterback
Every word is like a blast, 'cause y'all all soft
And I'm the hearse that came to haul 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 must've Escobar
You the kid got his chipped tooth fixed
Hair with a barber's 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
that tropical, cups of that Vodka too
Papi chu', tore up, wake up in a
Throw up? Never, 'member I do this righteous steps
You Judists I was gone, so in light of my death
been all happy-go-lucky, bunch of sambos
Call me "God's Son", my pants low
I don't die slow, put them up like Petey Pablo
This is Nasdaq dough, in my Nascar with Nas flow
Flip the beat back, now all reppin'
Hit the record sto', let me go, get my whole collection, yo

It's, the, return of the Prince, the
This is real hardcore, Kid Rock and Limp 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 don't 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 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 tennis shoes, I iced
Who am I? The back-twister,
Automatic leg-spreader, brain-getter
Keepin' it gangsta ya, uh

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