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

My, first album had no famous appearances
The outcome: I'm crowned the best
years on this professional level
Why would you question who's better? The world is mine
Tattoos real with "God's Son" the belly
The boss of rap, you saw me in "Belly" with thoughts that
To take it back to Africa, I did it with
Me and Tupac were soldiers of the struggle
You lames should huddle, your shook
Y'all the wrath of a killer, 'cause this is my football field
Throwin' from a barrel, shoulder pads apparel
But the Q.B. stand for no quarterback
Every word is like a sawed-off blast, y'all all soft
And I'm the black hearse that to haul y'all ass in
It's for the by the corner store
Many try, many die, 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 been
You the kid got his chipped tooth fixed
Hair parted with a barber's preciseness, Bravehearted for
It's the return of the Child, son of a blue's player
So who are you Y'all awaited the true savior
Puffin' tropical, cups 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, of sambos
me "God's Son", with my pants low
I die slow, put them rags up like Petey Pablo
This is Nasdaq dough, in my Nascar this 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
This is real hardcore, Kid and Limp Bizkit's soft
Sip Cris', get chips, gliss, I floss
Stick shift, look sick up in Boxter Porsche
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?
he shop at and dress at?
Know he got dough, where does he live? Is he still in the
he really know how ill that he is?
Got all of y'all watchin' my moves, my and my jewels
Hop in my coupe, dodge like that
not only my jewels, ice anything, plenty chains
Look at my tennis shoes, I that
Who am I? The back-twister,
Automatic leg-spreader, brain-getter
Keepin' it wit' ya, uh

x2]