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 hope you (got a gun)
You want I hope ya (got yo'self a gun)
And when I see you I'ma take what I
So, you tried to front, hope ya (got a gun)
You ain't real, ya (got yo'self a gun)

My, first had no famous guest appearances
The outcome: I'm crowned the lyricist
years on this professional level
Why would you who's better? The world is still mine
Tattoos with "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 Biggie
Me and Tupac were soldiers of the struggle
You lames huddle, your 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. stand for no quarterback
Every word is a sawed-off blast, 'cause y'all all soft
And I'm the black hearse 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 been Escobar
You know the kid got his chipped 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 playa? Y'all awaited the true
Puffin' that tropical, of that Vodka too
Papi chu', up, wake up in a hospital
Throw up? Never, I do this through righteous steps
You Judists thought I was gone, so in of my death
Y'all been all happy-go-lucky, bunch of
Call me "God's Son", with my low
I don't die slow, put them rags up like Pablo
This is Nasdaq dough, in my Nascar this Nas flow
Flip the back, now it's all reppin'
Hit the record sto', let me go, get my whole collection, yo

It's, the, of the Prince, the boss
This is real hardcore, Kid 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 to know where the kid go? Where he rest at?
Where he at and dress at?
Know he got dough, does he live? Is he still in the bridge?
he really know how ill that 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, plenty
Look at my tennis shoes, I iced
Who am I? The back-twister,
Automatic leg-spreader, quicker
it gangsta wit' ya, uh

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