Luyện nghe bài hát Bow To The Masta

That's right y'all, the K L, K-E-I-T-H (South Bronx)
I'm in here, I'm a let you (I started rappin')

I can tell you can't rap, at your engineer:
A Japanese guy with on with straight leg jeans and a beer
Got you on Hit Factory with groupies with acne
Thinking you recording a masterpiece, peanuts in your session
I'm a you a lesson: all y'all can't write
You just a new group with an ordinary and radio and poster hype
Now that 3, 000 lost their jobs, I'ma see how your record do
But you're stuttering out your boo boo, can't give a decent
I was always wondering you
Your whole group different images around me
Acting like don't copy me when they see me
spent your whole life listening to "Critical Beatdown"
You's a secret fan; every I create an A.K.A. character
Most of you groups out there are so wack, looking at my shoes in my
The back of my cover, and stealing my marketing plan
you inventing something new to the company
And in reality you're of me
(Y'all can't wait for my album to out to steal something new)

You bow to the master!
(Worship me, worship me, me, worship me) (Repeat 4x)

I pity the untalented, half of y'all creativity is to duplicate
The clothes I wear, call promotional staff to get you out
Quick in the magazines to me on your Ampex reels
On tour MC's draw sketches of me and watch what I'm wearing
I found out why rappers look at me jealous and staring
Comparing me to from a distance when I walk offstage
Your record label, your group, and your fanbase giving me a standing
In the Chicago Bull warmup suit and a bald head Michael Jordan
Six-time championship of the league, four million groups in the
Rakim and Canibus is the ones rapping pro speed
I average 52 per game, I put you to shame
Now you sit in your used Expedition and act like you don't know my name
I have to battle anybody nor freestyle
Half of your flows are written by rookies working Expos
I care if you act wild, bring your raps to the studio
I'ma get in booty, yo
I'ma set up a bag of on the console
So you can do this, light up, and smoke, yo, cause I'm no yo
I ride on the cycle level 3, vomit when you go in the booth
product manager is going to say, "Yo who is he?"
(Yo who is that, man?)

You bow to the master!
(Worship me, worship me, worship me, me) (Repeat 2x)

I don't play with skinny legs and the water
Time after time you know what I'm thinking when I come
Into studio professional with a white man driving a Continental Lincoln
Groupies look at me, y'all pay me no mind
I'm about to tear a new ass in kid, he'd better not let me rhyme
Yeah, take a break, some blunts
I'm to get up all in your fronts
With your body like Mitch Green and Tony Tubbs, you don't want this
Go in the corner your stomach hanging, gold teeth looking sneaky
I'm a let you how be, G
No matter how your styles change you can't see me
Believe that, up your ass souped up
Stand your backup, with your acne-faced girlfriend
You're gonna get a lot of
Test the best, you're gonna have water on kneecap

You bow to the master!
(Worship me, worship me, worship me, me) (Repeat 2x)

Yeah, I'm Blaze Magazine, I'm first
The other 49 are behind me, what?!