Luyện nghe bài hát Bow To The Masta

That's right y'all, the K double-O L, (South Bronx)
I'm in here, I'm a let you (I started rappin')

I can tell you rap, look at your engineer:
A Japanese guy with glasses on with straight leg jeans and a
Got you on Hit Factory with four with acne
you recording a masterpiece, chewing peanuts in your session
I'm a you a lesson: all y'all can't write
You just a new group with an ordinary gimmick and radio and hype
Now that 3, 000 people their jobs, I'ma see how your record do
But you're stuttering out boo boo, can't give a decent interview
I was always wondering you
whole group evolving different images around me
Acting like they don't me when they see me
You've your whole life listening to "Critical Beatdown"
You's a secret fan; every time I create an A.K.A.
Most of you out there are so wack, looking at my shoes in my videos
The back of my album cover, and stealing my marketing
Like you something new to the company
And in you're clones of me
(Y'all can't wait for my to come 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 creativity is to steal duplicate
The clothes I wear, your promotional staff to get you out
Quick in the to perpetrate me on your Ampex reels
On most MC's draw sketches of me and watch what I'm wearing
I found out why rappers at me jealous and keep staring
Comparing me to themselves from a when I walk offstage
Your record label, your group, and fanbase giving me a standing ovation
In the Chicago Bull warmup suit and a bald like Michael Jordan
Six-time championship of the league, four groups in the industry
and Canibus is the only ones rapping pro speed
I 52 rappers per game, I put you to shame
Now you gonna sit in your used Expedition and act like you don't my name
I don't have to battle anybody nor
Half of your are written by rookies working Montreal Expos
I don't care if you act wild, bring your to the studio
get in your booty, yo
I'ma set up a bag of on the console
So you can do this, light up, and smoke, yo, I'm no joke yo
I might ride on the level 3, vomit when you go in the booth
Your manager is going to say, "Yo who is he?"
(Yo who is that, man?)

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

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

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

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