Got Ur Self A...

Woke up this mornin' (Yeah)
 You got yourself a gun (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
 Got yourself a gun
 Yo, I'm 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, I'ma take what I want
 So you tried to front, hope you (Got yourself a gun)
 You ain't real, hope you (Got yourself a gun)
 My first album had no famous guest appearances
 The outcome, I'm crowned the best lyricist
 Many years on this professional level
 Why would you question who's better? The world is still mine
 Tattoo's real, with "God's 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 a huddle, your team's shook
 Y'all feel the wrath of a killer, 'cause this is my football field
 Throwin' passes from a barrel, shoulder pads, apparel
 But the QB don't stand for no quarterback
 Every word is like a sawed-off blast 'cause y'all all soft
 And I'm the black hearse that came to haul y'all ass in
 It's for the hood by the corner store
 Many try, many die, come at Nas if you want a war, get it bloody!
 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, I'ma take what I want
 So you tried to front, hope you (Got yourself a gun)
 You ain't real, hope you (Got yourself a gun)
 Yo, I'm the N, the A to the S-I-R
 And if I wasn't, I must've been Escobar
 You know the kid got his chipped tooth fixed
 Hair parted with a, barber's preciseness
 Bravehearted for life, it's
 The return of the Golden Child, son of a blues player
 So who are you, player? Y'all 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 Judas thought I was gone, so in light of my death
 Y'all been all happy-go-lucky, bunch of sambos
 Call me "God's Son" with my pants low
 I don't die slow, put them rags up like Petey Pablo
 This is NASDAQ though, in my Nascar, with this Nas flow
 What could beat that? Not a soul reppin'
 Hit the record store, never let me go, get my whole collection, yo
 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, I'ma take what I want
 So you tried to front, hope you (Got yourself a gun)
 You ain't real, hope you (Got yourself a gun)
 It's, the, return of the prince, the boss
 This is real hardcore, Kid Rock and Limp Bizkit soft
 Sip Cris', get chips, wrist glist', I floss
 Stick-shift look sick up in that Boxster Porsche
 With the top cut off, rich kids go and cop The Source
 They don't know about the blocks I'm 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 y'all watchin' my moves, my watch and my jewels
 Hop in my coupe, dodge interviews like that
 It's 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 with ya (Uhh)
 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, I'ma take what I want
 So you tried to front, hope you (Got yourself a gun)
 You ain't real, hope you (Got yourself a gun)
 (Got yourself a gun)
 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, I'ma take what I want
 So you tried to front, hope you (Got yourself a gun)