40 Acres And My Props

[Intro: Showbiz & A.G.]Showbiz got props, tell me who got the propsA.G. got props, tell me who got the propsGive me my props for '92It's me and Showbiz, and this is what we gonna doGive you some now, save some for laterHere's a portion, yo Show, kick the flavor[Showbiz]Record labels try and juice me (for what?) for my papersThe offer me a mule (and what else?) and 40 acresI'm dissing snakes now, there's no time to catch the vaporsI'm not a pup (for what?) a Muppet caperAnd all the ghetto groupies get free with the quicknessAnd Show concentrates and only thinks about businessI hate a sellout cause he puts me in a rageI play KRS and throw that ass off the stageSo give me my props cause I always stay cleverAnd ain't nothing changd but the weatherGet your act together, cause I got mines togetherDon't front on the brother with the Pelle Pelle leatherI'm Show B-I-Z, my partner's A.G.Chill with Greg N-I-C-E or my brother D-R-E-SAnd what's up to Lord FinesseAnd I'd like to give shouts to my peeps Shorty and WesPeople say I'm soup, crazy cash I recoupNowadays I just troop in my green Legend coupe[A.G.]Record companies try to juice me for my papersThey offer me a mule and about 40 acresThey try ot gain from my royaltiesPush me towards the dotted line but you know I didn't signLabels know straight up when we meetInterfere with my career and it's back to the streetsBang bang or the pow powI settle the beef the best way I know howRelease the savage beast if I'm not taking careRap is my career and it's my only way outta hereEvery chance I do damageAnd I manage to use all the anger to my advantageAll that is cool, but my brain is the toolGimme my props so we all can ruleDon't show off my skills, I just sprinkle emAnd you're sleeping on my props, wake up before you wrinkle themGimme my props yo, more than a cop yoTil I master hip-hop, I won't stop yo (Repeat 4x)[Showbiz]The say BMW's a Black Man's WishI wish for an SP-1200 and some discsNegativity the least, my material's is ceaseSaying peace to the brothers in the belly of the beastPeople saying "Why Show wanna rhyme?"I didn't wanna get back and do Fed timeI wanna live right and exact, I don't wanna be the fat catOff the crack and have the Feds down my backIf the money's stacked, take a step back, blackOr you'll be wearing four four numbers like a quarterbackI was raised one deep by mom dukes and no dadAnd now I grab a #2 pencil and a padOr Erasermate if I make mistakes I eraseAnd me a Diamond go diggin' in the crates(Where's my 40 acres?) Not the projects of courseI asked for a mule, I got an iron horseShit goes on as the song playsCan a devil fool a Muslim? Nah, not nowadays[A.G.]On your mark, get set, pass the 40, let's jetA fat rhyme is what you want, a fat rhyme is what you'll getIt's thorough, from begining to endThe beat is fat, what can I say? Show you did it againI got the hat on my head, Pepe's on my behindFans on my back, and money on my mindI don't sweat the stress, take the bitter with the sweetDid I let you know I have the Tims on my feet?You know my stats when I came aroundSaying "Damn he's living fat" when I haven't even gained a poundFriends til the end, never will I diss yaMy people's R.I.P., you know I'm gonna miss ya40 acres and my props, the name of the songA.G. is saying peace and I'm goneGimme my props yo, more than a cop yoTil I master hip-hop, I won't stop yo (Repeat 4x)