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 can't rap, look at your
A Japanese guy glasses on with straight leg jeans and a beer
Got you on Hit Factory with four groupies with
Thinking you recording a masterpiece, peanuts in your session
I'm a learn you a 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 wondering about you
Your whole group evolving 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; every time I create an A.K.A.
Most of you groups out are so wack, looking at my shoes in my videos
The back of my album cover, and my marketing plan
you inventing something new to the company
And in reality you're of me
(Y'all can't for my album to come out to steal something new)

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

I pity the untalented, half of y'all creativity is to duplicate
The clothes I wear, call your promotional to get you out
in the magazines to perpetrate me on your Ampex reels
On tour most MC's draw of me and watch what I'm wearing
I found out why rappers look at me and keep staring
Comparing me to themselves from a distance when I walk
Your record label, your group, and your fanbase giving me a ovation
In the Chicago Bull warmup suit and a head like Michael Jordan
championship of the league, four million groups in the industry
Rakim and Canibus is the only ones pro speed
I average 52 rappers per game, I put you to
Now you gonna sit in used Expedition and act like you don't know my name
I don't have to battle nor freestyle
of your flows are written by rookies working Montreal Expos
I don't care if you act wild, bring your raps to the
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 might ride on the cycle 3, vomit when you go in the booth
Your product manager is 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 and the water head
after time you don't know what I'm thinking when I come
Into your studio professional with a white man a Continental Lincoln
Groupies look at me, don't pay me no mind
I'm to tear a new ass in this 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 shaped 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 styles change you can't see me
Believe that, light up 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, me, worship me, worship me) (Repeat 2x)

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