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, look at engineer:
A guy with glasses on with straight leg jeans and a beer
Got you on Hit Factory four groupies with acne
you recording a masterpiece, chewing peanuts in your session
I'm a learn you a lesson: all can't write
You just a new group with an ordinary gimmick and radio and poster
Now that 3, 000 people lost their jobs, see how your record do
But you're stuttering out your boo boo, can't a decent interview
I was always wondering you
Your whole group different images around me
Acting like they don't me when they see me
You've spent whole life listening to "Critical Beatdown"
You's a secret fan; time I create an A.K.A. character
Most of you groups out there are so wack, looking at my in my videos
The back of my album cover, and stealing my marketing
you inventing something new to the company
And in you're clones of me
(Y'all can't wait for my album to come out to 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 steal
The clothes I wear, call your staff to get you out
Quick in the to perpetrate me on your Ampex reels
On tour most MC's sketches of me and watch what I'm wearing
I found out why rappers look at me jealous and staring
Comparing me to themselves from a distance I walk offstage
Your record label, your group, and fanbase giving me a standing ovation
In the Bull warmup suit and a bald head like Michael Jordan
Six-time championship of the league, four million in the industry
Rakim and is the only ones rapping pro speed
I average 52 per game, I put you to shame
Now you gonna sit in your used Expedition and act like you know my name
I don't have to battle nor freestyle
Half of your flows are written by rookies Montreal Expos
I don't care if you act wild, bring your to the studio
I'ma get in booty, yo
I'ma set up a bag of on the console
So you can do this, up, and smoke, yo, cause I'm no joke yo
I might ride on the cycle level 3, vomit you go in the booth
Your product 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 legs and the water head
Time after time you don't know what I'm thinking when I
Into your studio professional a white man driving a Continental Lincoln
Groupies look at me, y'all don't pay me no
I'm about to tear a new ass in this kid, better not let me rhyme
Yeah, take a break, order some
I'm to get up all in your fronts
With your body shaped like Mitch and Tony Tubbs, you don't want this
Go in the corner with your stomach hanging, teeth looking sneaky
I'm a let you how be, G
No matter how much your styles change you see me
Believe that, light up your ass up
Stand behind your backup, with acne-faced girlfriend
You're get a lot of feedback
Test the best, you're gonna have water on your

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

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