Luyện nghe bài hát 40 Acres and My Props

Showbiz got props, tell me who got the
A.G. got props, tell me who got the
me my props for '92
It's me and Showbiz and this is we gonna do
Give you now, save some for later
a portion, ayo Show, kick the flavor

Record try and juice me, for what? For my papers
The offer me a mule and else? And 40 acres
I'm dissing now, there's no time to catch the vapors
And I'm not a pup, for what? A Muppet

And all the ghetto groupies get free the quickness
And Show concentrate and only thinks business
I hate a sellout because he put me in a
I play KRS and throw ass off the stage

So give me my props because I always clever
And ain't nothing but the weather
Get your act together I got mines together
Please don't front on the brother with the Pelle Pelle

I'm B I Z, my partner's A.G.
with Greg N I C E or my brother D R E S
And what's up to Lord
And I'd to give shouts to my peeps Shorty and Wes
People say, I'm soup, cash, I recoup
Nowadays I just in my green Legend Coupe

Record try to juice me for my papers
They offer me a mule and 40 acres
try to gain from my royalties
Push me towards the dotted line but you know I didn't

Labels know up when we meet
Interfere with my career, then it's to the streets
Bang or the pow pow
I the beef the best way I know how

the savage beast if I'm not taking care
Rap is my career and it's my way outta here
Every I do damage
And I to use all the anger to my advantage

All that is cool but the brain is the
Gimme my props so we all can
Don't off my skills, I just sprinkle 'em
And now you're sleeping on my
Wake up you wrinkle 'em

Gimme my props, yo, more a cop, yo
I master hip hop, I won't stop, yo
Gimme my props yo, than a cop, yo
'Til I master hip hop, I stop, yo

my props, yo, more than a cop, yo
'Til I master hip hop, I stop, yo
Gimme my props, yo, than a cop, yo
'Til I master hip hop, I stop

say BMW's a black man's wish
I for an SP-1200 and some discs
Negativity the least, material's is
Saying peace to the brothers in the of the beast

saying, "Why Show wanna rhyme?"
I didn't wanna get back and do Fed
I wanna right and exact, I don't wanna be a fat cat
Off the and have the Feds down my back
If the stacked, take a step back, black
Or you'll be four four numbers like a quarterback

I was one deep by Mom dukes and no Dad
And now I a number, 2 pencil and a pad
Or Erasermate, if I mistakes I erase
And me and Diamond go in the crates

Where's my 40 acres? Not the of course
I asked for a mule, I got an iron
Shit goes on as the song
Can a fool a Muslim? Nah, not nowadays

On your mark, get set, pass the 40, jet
A fat rhyme is what you want, a fat rhyme is what get
It's from beginning to end
The beat is phat, what can I say? Show you did it

I got the hat on my head, on my behind
Fans on my back and money on my
I don't sweat the stress, take the with the sweet
Did I let you know I the Tims on my feet?

You my stats when I came around
Saying, "Damn, he's living fat", when I haven't even gained a
til the end, never will I diss ya
My people's R.I.P., you know I'm miss ya
40 and my props, the name of the song
A.G. is saying and I'm gone

Gimme my props, yo, than a cop, yo
'Til I master hip hop, I stop, yo
Gimme my props, yo, more a cop, yo
'Til I hip hop, I won't stop, yo

Gimme my props, yo, than a cop, yo
'Til I master hip hop, I stop, yo
Gimme my props, yo, more a cop, yo
'Til I master hip hop, I stop

Yeah, Showbiz, yeah, A.G,
Showbiz, yeah, A.G