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
you some now, save some for later
Here's a portion, ayo Show, kick the

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

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

So give me my because I always stay clever
And ain't nothing changed but the
Get your act 'cause I got mines together
Please don't front on the 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 what's up to Finesse
And I'd like to give shouts to my Shorty and Wes
People say, I'm soup, crazy cash, I
Nowadays I just troop in my green Coupe

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

Labels know straight up we meet
Interfere my career, then it's back to the streets
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
Every chance I do
And I manage to use all the to my advantage

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

Gimme my props, yo, 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, yo

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

They say BMW's a black wish
I for an SP-1200 and some discs
the least, material's is cease
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 wanna live and exact, I don't wanna be a fat cat
Off the crack and have the down my back
If the stacked, take a step back, black
Or you'll be wearing four four numbers a quarterback

I was raised one 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 Not the projects of course
I asked for a mule, I got an horse
Shit goes on as the song
Can a devil fool a Muslim? Nah, not

On your mark, get set, the 40, let's jet
A fat rhyme is what you want, a fat rhyme is you'll get
It's thorough 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
Fans on my back and money on my
I don't sweat the stress, take the bitter with the
Did I let you know I the Tims on my feet?

You knew my stats I came around
Saying, "Damn, he's living fat", when I haven't gained a pound
Friends til the end, will 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 saying peace and I'm

Gimme my props, yo, more 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, 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 hip hop, I won't stop

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