Luyện nghe bài hát 40 Acres and My Props

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

Record labels try and juice me, for what? For my
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 caper

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

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

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

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

Labels know straight up when we
Interfere with my career, then it's back to the
Bang or the pow pow
I settle the the best way I know how

the savage beast if I'm not taking care
Rap is my career and my only way outta here
chance I do damage
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 you're sleeping on my
up before you wrinkle 'em

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

They say BMW's a black wish
I wish for an SP-1200 and some
the least, material's is cease
Saying to the brothers in the belly of the beast

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

I was raised one deep by Mom 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 digging in the

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

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, can I say? Show you did it again

I got the hat on my head, Pepe's on my
on my back and money on my mind
I don't 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 around
Saying, "Damn, he's fat", when I haven't even gained a pound
Friends til the end, will I diss ya
My people's R.I.P., you know I'm miss ya
40 acres and my props, the name of the
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, than a cop, yo
I master hip hop, I won't stop, yo

Gimme my props, yo, more 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 won't

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