40 Acres And My Props

[Intro: Showbiz & A.G.]

Showbiz got props, tell me who got the props

A.G. got props, tell me who got the props

Give me my props for '92

It's me and Showbiz, and this is what we gonna do

Give you some now, save some for later

Here's a portion, yo Show, kick the flavor

[Showbiz]

Record labels try and juice me (for what?) for my papers

The offer me a mule (and what else?) and 40 acres

I'm dissing snakes now, there's no time to catch the vapors

I'm not a pup (for what?) a Muppet caper

And all the ghetto groupies get free with the quickness

And Show concentrates and only thinks about business

I hate a sellout cause he puts me in a rage

I play KRS and throw that ass off the stage

So give me my props cause I always stay clever

And ain't nothing changd but the weather

Get your act together, cause I got mines together

Don't front on the brother with the Pelle Pelle leather

I'm Show be -I-Z, my partner's A.G.

Chill with Greg N-I-see-E or my brother D-are-E-S

And what's up to Lord Finesse

And I'd like to give shouts to my peeps Shorty and Wes

People say I'm soup, crazy cash I recoup

Nowadays I just troop in my green Legend coupe

[A.G.]

Record companies try to juice me for my papers

They offer me a mule and about 40 acres

They try ot gain from my royalties

Push me towards the dotted line but you know I didn't sign

Labels know straight up when we meet

Interfere with my career and it's back to the streets

Bang bang or the pow pow

I settle the beef the best way I know how

Release the savage beast if I'm not taking care

Rap is my career and it's my only way outta here

Every chance I do damage

And I manage to use all the anger to my advantage

All that is cool, but my brain is the tool

Gimme my props so we all can rule

Don't show off my skills, I just sprinkle em

And you're sleeping on my props, wake up before you wrinkle them

Gimme my props yo, more than a cop yo

Til I master hip-hop, I won't stop yo (Repeat 4x)

[Showbiz]

The say BMW's a Black Man's Wish

I wish for an SP-1200 and some discs

Negativity the least, my material's is cease

Saying peace to the brothers in the belly of the beast

People saying "Why Show want to rhyme?"

I didn't want to get back and do Fed time

I want to live right and exact, I don't want to be the fat cat

Off the crack and have the Feds down my back

If the money's stacked, take a step back, black

Or you'll be wearing four four numbers like a quarterback

I was raised one deep by mom dukes and no dad

And now I grab a number two pencil and a pad

Or Erasermate if I make mistakes I erase

And me a Diamond go diggin' in the crates

(Where's my 40 acres?) Not the projects of course

I asked for a mule, I got an iron horse

Shit goes on as the song plays

Can a devil fool a Muslim? Nah, not nowadays

[A.G.]

On your mark, get set, pass the 40, let's jet

A fat rhyme is what you want, a fat rhyme is what you'll get

It's thorough, from beginning to end

The beat is fat, what can I say? Show you did it again

I got the hat on my head, Pepe's on my behind

Fans on my back, and money on my mind

I don't sweat the stress, take the bitter with the sweet

Did I let you know I have the Tims on my feet?

You know my stats when I came around

Saying "Damn he's living fat" when I haven't even gained a pound

Friends til the end, never will I diss ya

My people's R.I.P., you know I'm gonna miss ya

40 acres and my props, the name of the song

A.G. is saying peace and I'm gone

Gimme my props yo, more than a cop yo

Til I master hip-hop, I won't stop yo (Repeat 4x)