Lyrical Breakdown of Got Ur Self A Gun - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Got Ur Self A Gun" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.

• Lyric Overview: Witness how Nas weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Got Ur Self A Gun" is a testament to masterful songwriting.
• Rhyme and Rhythm Analysis: Our Lazyjot editor highlights the ingenious use of multi-syllabic rhymes and the rhythm pattern that Nas employs. Understand the construction of each verse and how it contributes to the song's overall impact.
• Syllable Pattern Insights: Dive deeper into the structural elements of the lyrics. See how the syllable count varies across the song, adding a unique rhythm and flow to Nas's narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "Got Ur Self A Gun" not only celebrates Nas's artistic prowess but also serves as an educational tool for aspiring songwriters. If this analysis inspires you and you'd like to see your own songs analyzed in this way, join the Lazyjot community. Register at Lazyjot and start exploring the full potential of your lyrical creativity. Turn your thoughts into rhymes and your rhymes into songs with Lazyjot!

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, I 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, I 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, I 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, I 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)