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 B-I-Z, my partner's A.G.
 Chill with Greg N-I-C-E or my brother D-R-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 wanna rhyme?"
 I didn't wanna get back and do Fed time
 I wanna live right and exact, I don't wanna 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 #2 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 begining 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