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 and this is what we gonna do
Give you some now, save for later
Here's a portion, ayo Show, kick the

labels 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 A Muppet caper

And all the ghetto get free with the quickness
And Show and only thinks about business
I hate a sellout he put me in a rage
I play KRS and throw that ass off the

So give me my props I always stay clever
And nothing changed but the weather
Get your act 'cause I got mines together
don't front on the brother with the Pelle Pelle leather

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

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

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

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

All that is cool but the brain is the
Gimme my props so we all can
show off my skills, I just sprinkle 'em
And now sleeping on my props
Wake up before you 'em

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

Gimme my props, yo, more 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 wish for an SP-1200 and some
Negativity the least, material's is
Saying to the brothers in the belly of the beast

People saying, "Why Show rhyme?"
I didn't wanna get and do Fed time
I live right and exact, I don't wanna be a fat cat
Off the crack and the Feds down my back
If the money's stacked, take a back, black
Or you'll be wearing four four numbers like a

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

Where's my 40 acres? Not the projects of
I asked for a mule, I got an iron
Shit on as the song plays
Can a devil 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 you'll get
It's from beginning to end
The beat is phat, what can I say? you did it again

I got the hat on my head, Pepe's on my
Fans on my and money on my mind
I sweat the stress, take the bitter with the sweet
Did I let you know I have the Tims on my

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

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

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 won't

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