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Got Ur Self A
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Current song lyrics
[Intro:]<br />Woke up this mornin', (yeah)<br />You got yo'self a gun (yeah, yeah, yeah)<br />Got yo'self a gun<br /><br />[Nas]<br />Yo, I'm livin' in this time behind enemy lines<br />So...<br /><br />[Chorus:]<br />I got mine, I hope you (got yo'self a gun)<br />You from the hood I hope you (got yo'self a gun)<br />You want beef? I hope ya (got yo'self a gun)<br />And when I see you I'ma take what I want<br />So, you tried to front, hope ya (got yo'self a gun)<br />You ain't real, hope ya (got yo'self a gun)<br /><br />My, first album had no famous guest appearances<br />The outcome: I'm crowned the best lyricist<br />Many years on this professional level<br />Why would you question who's better? The world is still mine<br />Tattoos real with 'God's Son' across the belly<br />The boss of rap, you saw me in 'Belly' with thoughts like that<br />To take it back to Africa, I did it with Biggie<br />Me and Tupac were soldiers of the same struggle<br />You lames should huddle, your team's shook<br />Y'all feel the wrath of a killer, 'cause this is my football field<br />Throwin' passes from a barrel, shoulder pads apparel<br />But the Q.B. don't stand for no quarterback<br />Every word is like a sawed-off blast, 'cause y'all all soft<br />And I'm the black hearse that came to haul y'all ass in<br />It's for the hood by the corner store<br />Many try, many die, come at Nas if you want a war, get it bloody, uh<br /><br />[Chorus]<br /><br />Yo, I'm the N the A to the S-I-R<br />And If I wasn't, I must've been Escobar<br />You know the kid got his chipped tooth fixed<br />Hair parted with a barber's preciseness; Bravehearted for life<br />It's the return of the Golden Child, son of a blue's player<br />So who are you playa? Y'all awaited the true savior<br />Puffin' that tropical, cups of that Vodka too<br />Papi chu', tore up, wake up in a hospital<br />Throw up? Never, 'member I do this through righteous steps<br />You Judists thought I was gone, so in light of my death<br />Y'all been all happy-go-lucky, bunch of sambos<br />Call me "God's Son", with my pants low<br />I don't die slow, put them rags up like Petey Pablo<br />This is Nasdaq dough, in my Nascar with this Nas flow<br />Flip the beat back, now it's all reppin'<br />Hit the record sto', never let me go, get my whole collection, yo<br /><br />[Chorus]<br /><br />It's, the, return of the Prince, the boss<br />This is real hardcore, Kid Rock and Limp Bizkit's soft<br />Sip Cris', get chips, wrist gliss, I floss<br />Stick shift, look sick up in that Boxter Porsche<br />With the top cut off, rich kids go and cop The Source<br />They don't know about the blocks I'm on<br />And everybody wanna know where the kid go? Where he rest at?<br />Where he shop at and dress at?<br />Know he got dough, where does he live? Is he still in the bridge?<br />Does he really know how ill that he is?<br />Got all of y'all watchin' my moves, my watch and my jewels<br />Hop in my coupe, dodge interviews like that<br />It's not only my jewels, ice anything, plenty chains<br />Look at my tennis shoes, I iced that<br />Who am I? The back-twister, lingerie-ripper<br />Automatic leg-spreader, quicker brain-getter<br />Keepin' it gangsta wit' ya, uh<br /><br />[Chorus X2]
New song lyrics
[Intro:]<br />Woke up this mornin', (yeah)<br />You got yo'self a gun (yeah, yeah, yeah)<br />Got yo'self a gun<br /><br />[Nas]<br />Yo, I'm livin' in this time behind enemy lines<br />So...<br /><br />[Chorus:]<br />I got mine, I hope you (got yo'self a gun)<br />You from the hood I hope you (got yo'self a gun)<br />You want beef? I hope ya (got yo'self a gun)<br />And when I see you I'ma take what I want<br />So, you tried to front, hope ya (got yo'self a gun)<br />You ain't real, hope ya (got yo'self a gun)<br /><br />My, first album had no famous guest appearances<br />The outcome: I'm crowned the best lyricist<br />Many years on this professional level<br />Why would you question who's better? The world is still mine<br />Tattoos real with 'God's Son' across the belly<br />The boss of rap, you saw me in 'Belly' with thoughts like that<br />To take it back to Africa, I did it with Biggie<br />Me and Tupac were soldiers of the same struggle<br />You lames should huddle, your team's shook<br />Y'all feel the wrath of a killer, 'cause this is my football field<br />Throwin' passes from a barrel, shoulder pads apparel<br />But the Q.B. don't stand for no quarterback<br />Every word is like a sawed-off blast, 'cause y'all all soft<br />And I'm the black hearse that came to haul y'all ass in<br />It's for the hood by the corner store<br />Many try, many die, come at Nas if you want a war, get it bloody, uh<br /><br />[Chorus]<br /><br />Yo, I'm the N the A to the S-I-R<br />And If I wasn't, I must've been Escobar<br />You know the kid got his chipped tooth fixed<br />Hair parted with a barber's preciseness; Bravehearted for life<br />It's the return of the Golden Child, son of a blue's player<br />So who are you playa? Y'all awaited the true savior<br />Puffin' that tropical, cups of that Vodka too<br />Papi chu', tore up, wake up in a hospital<br />Throw up? Never, 'member I do this through righteous steps<br />You Judists thought I was gone, so in light of my death<br />Y'all been all happy-go-lucky, bunch of sambos<br />Call me "God's Son", with my pants low<br />I don't die slow, put them rags up like Petey Pablo<br />This is Nasdaq dough, in my Nascar with this Nas flow<br />Flip the beat back, now it's all reppin'<br />Hit the record sto', never let me go, get my whole collection, yo<br /><br />[Chorus]<br /><br />It's, the, return of the Prince, the boss<br />This is real hardcore, Kid Rock and Limp Bizkit's soft<br />Sip Cris', get chips, wrist gliss, I floss<br />Stick shift, look sick up in that Boxter Porsche<br />With the top cut off, rich kids go and cop The Source<br />They don't know about the blocks I'm on<br />And everybody wanna know where the kid go? Where he rest at?<br />Where he shop at and dress at?<br />Know he got dough, where does he live? Is he still in the bridge?<br />Does he really know how ill that he is?<br />Got all of y'all watchin' my moves, my watch and my jewels<br />Hop in my coupe, dodge interviews like that<br />It's not only my jewels, ice anything, plenty chains<br />Look at my tennis shoes, I iced that<br />Who am I? The back-twister, lingerie-ripper<br />Automatic leg-spreader, quicker brain-getter<br />Keepin' it gangsta wit' ya, uh<br /><br />[Chorus X2]
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