Song: Got Ur Self A... ~~ 2001 ~~ 3:49
Artist: Nas
LP/CD: Stillmatic ~~ Ill Will/Columbia ~~ 2001
Composers: N. Jones~Megahertz~C.
Burnett~S. Edwards~P. Marsh~R. Spragg~J.
Black
(Woke up this mornin) Yeah
(You got yourself a gun) Yeah, yeah, yeah
(Got yourself a gun)
Yo Im livin in this time behind enemy lines
So I got mine, I hope you (Got yourself a gun)
You from the hood, I hope you (Got yourself a gun)
You want beef, hope you (Got yourself a gun)
And when I see you Imma take what I want
So you try to front, hope you (Got yourself a gun)
You aint real, hope you (Got yourself a gun)
My first album had no famous guest appearances
The outcome, Im crowned the best lyricist
Many years on this professional level
Why would you question whos better, the world is still mine
Tattoos real, with Gods Son across the belly
The boss of rap, you saw me in Belly with thoughts like that
To take it back to Africa, I did it with Biggie
Me and 2Pac were soldiers of the same struggle
You lame still huddle, your teams shook, yall feel the wrath of a killer
Cause this is my football field
Throwin passes from a barrel, shoulder pads, apparel
But the QB dont stand for no quarterback
Every word is like a sawed-off blast
Cause yall now soft and Im the black hearse that came to haul yall
a** in
Its for the hood by the corner store
Many try, many die, come at Nas if you want a war
Get it blunted
I got mine, I hope you (Got yourself a gun)
You from the hood, I hope you (Got yourself a gun)
You want beef, hope you (Got yourself a gun)
And when I see you Imma take what I want
So you try to front, hope you (Got yourself a gun)
You aint real, hope you (Got yourself a gun)
Yo, Im the N, the A to the S-I-R
And If I wasnt, I mustve been Escobar
You know the kid got his chipped tooth fixed
Hair parted with a barbers preciseness
Bravehearted for life, its return of the Golden Child, son of a blues player
So who are you player, yall awaited the true savior
Puffin that tropical, cups of that Vodka too
Papi chus tore up, wake up in a hospital
Throw up, never, member I do this through righteous steps
You Judas thought I was gone, so in light of my death
Yall been all happy go lucky, bunch of samus
Call me Gods Son with my pants low
I dont die slow, put them rags up like Petey Pablo
This is Nasdaq dough in my Nascar with this Nas flow
Flip the beat that not a soul reppin
Hit the record store, never let me go, get my whole collection
I got mine, I hope you (Got yourself a gun)
You from the hood, I hope you (Got yourself a gun)
You want beef, hope you (Got yourself a gun)
And when I see you Imma take what I want
So you try to front, hope you (Got yourself a gun)
You aint real, hope you (Got yourself a gun)
Its the return of the Prince, the boss, this is real hardcore
Kid Rock and Limp Bizkits soft
Sip Cris, get chips, wrist gliss, I floss
Stick shift, look sick up in that boxed up Porsche
With the top cut off, rich kids go and cop The Source
They dont know about the blocks Im on
And everybody wanna know where the kid go
Where he rest at, where he shop at and dress at
Know he got dough, where does he live
Is he still in The Bridge
Does he really know how ill that he is
Got all of yall watchin my moves, my watch and my jewels
Hop in my Coupe, dodge interviews like that
Its not only my jewels, ice anything, plenty chains
Look at my tennis shoes, I iced that
Who am I, the back twister, lingerie ripper
Automatic leg spreader, quicker brain getter
Keepin it gangsta wit ya
I got mine, I hope you (Got yourself a gun)
You from the hood, I hope you (Got yourself a gun)
You want beef, hope you (Got yourself a gun)
And when I see you Imma take what I want
So you try to front, hope you (Got yourself a gun)
You aint real, hope you (Got yourself a gun)
(Got yourself a gun) Uh
I got mine, I hope you (Got yourself a gun)
You from the hood, I hope you (Got yourself a gun)
You want beef, hope you (Got yourself a gun)
And when I see you Imma take what I want
So you try to front, hope you (Got yourself a gun)
Transcribed by: Char Star
Uploaded on: December 22, 2001
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