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  • Letra Got Yourself A Gun de Nas Ranking:
  • [sample singing]
    Woke up this mornin, you got yourself a gun, you got yourself a gun..

    [chorus]
    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 I hope ya (got yourself a gun)
    And when I see you ima take what I want
    So you tried to front, hope ya (got yourself a gun)
    You aint real, hope ya (got yourself a gun)

    [verse 1]
    My first album had no famous guest appearances
    The outcome, Im was 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 lames should 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 q.b. dont stand for no quarterback
    Every word is like a sawed-off blast
    cause yall all soft and Im the black hearse
    That came to haul yall ass in
    Its for the hood by the corner store
    Many try, many die, come at nas if you want a war.

    [chorus]

    [verse 2]
    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 -

  • The return of the golden child, son of a blues player
    So who are you playa? yall awaited the true savior
    Puffin that tropical, cups of that vodka too
    Papi chu, tore up, wake up in a hospital
    Throw up? never, member I do this through righteous steps
    You judists thought I was gone, so in light of my death
    Yall been all happy go lucky, bunch of sambos
    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, reppin
    Hit the record sto, never let me go, get my whole collection.

    [chorus]

    [verse 3]
    Its - the - return of the prince, the boss
    This is real hardcore, kid rock and limp bizkits soft
    Sip criss, 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 live, 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

    [chorus] Puntuación:
    1 (0) 2 (0) 3 (0) 4 (0) 5 (0)

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