Lyrics2

Got Ur Self A...

[Intro]
Woke up this mornin', (yeah)
You got yo'self a gun (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Got yo'self a gun

[Nas]
Yo, I'm livin' in this time behind enemy lines
So...

[Chorus]
I got mine, I hope you (got yo'self a gun)
You from the hood I hope you (got yo'self a gun)
You want beef? I hope ya (got yo'self a gun)
And when I see you I'ma take what I want
So, you tried to front, hope ya (got yo'self a gun)
You ain't real, hope ya (got yo'self a gun)

[Verse 1]
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
Tattoos 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 Tupac were soldiers of the same struggle
You lames should 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 Q.B. 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, uh

[Chorus]

[Verse 2]
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 blue's player
So who are you playa? 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 Judists 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 dough, in my Nascar with this Nas flow
Flip the beat back, now it's all reppin'
Hit the record sto', never let me go, get my whole collection, yo

[Chorus]

[Verse 3]
It's, the, return of the Prince, the boss
This is real hardcore, Kid Rock and Limp Bizkit's soft
Sip Cris', get chips, wrist gliss, I floss
Stick shift, look sick up in that Boxter 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 wit' ya, uh

[Chorus 2x]

Smokin'

Bis-Mi-Allah A-Rahman A-Rahim
(To the Gods.. to the Gods.. to the Earths)
Pass that shit homey

[Intro/Chorus]
Now tell me what y'all smokin
What kinda heat y'll holdin
Well is your creep move potent
I got a bunch of bullets and a bag of guns I pass 'em to my niggaz c'mon
We bi-coastin, keepin our po-ckets bulgin
We got the plan in motion
I got a bunch of bullets and a bag of guns I pass 'em to my niggaz c'mon

[Verse One]
Zoom, from outer space he comes
Blunt in his mouth with his hand on his gun
Bitches flappin they gums, do he be clappin and shootin guys
Actor or a movie star, rapper revolutionized
What is his race nation or creed?
Is he arabic, black, latin, asian they read
Magazines say I walked on water, talked to the heavens
Spit at judges, stepped on peasants
But in reality, I just entered your galaxy
September '73, up in these wild streets
Fuckin these wild freaks, a harem of hoes (God damn)
And my mystique got 'em tearin my clothes

[Chorus]

[Verse Two]
My nigga smoke with one lung
If he cough he might die, passin me trees
The liquor bottle's almost empty
We about to collide, with the enemy
Only way you die if it's meant to be
You fuckin with a general
No discussion is the principle we bustin it's the end of you
Now we knockin on your mama door
Like we cam to fix the sink; my kind of war
Death, angels comin for you
Spirit horse runnin from your body like Young Guns 1 and 2
Paramedics fightin for you, who's gon' win?
The hands of time, or the hands of medicine
Don't cry, witness your fate, this is your wake
Walk by your casket, spit in your face
Enter the fog dog, the light is your guide
And when you're gone all your niggaz gon' light it with Nas

[Chorus]

[Verse Three]
Pardon but I gotta question of life now
Look at the nigga next to you right now
Is he real, fake or scared
Do it like this niggaz right hands in the air
Ball it to a fist and put it over your heart
Now let's say it all together let the ceremony start
I shall - stay real stay true stay holdin figures
Never put a bitch over my niggaz
I shall never, cooperate with the law
Never snake me I always hold you down in war
If they take one of mine, I take one of theirs
I never break the oath to the death I swear
I swear that's how we pledge alegiance, to the alliance
of underworld's killers and thugs, though the science
of a nigga still yet to be found
So light up some green, and pass it around (just pass it around)

[Chorus]

[repeat until fade]
Wanna get high, come smoke with me
Smoke with me, light it up