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 Japanese guy with glasses on with straight leg and a beer
Got you on Hit Factory with four with acne
Thinking you recording a masterpiece, chewing peanuts in session
I'm a learn you a all y'all can't write
You just a new group an ordinary gimmick and radio and poster hype
Now that 3, 000 lost their jobs, I'ma see how your record do
But you're out your boo boo, can't give a decent interview
I was always wondering you
Your whole evolving different images around me
Acting like they don't me when they see me
You've spent your whole life to "Critical Beatdown"
You's a secret fan; time I create an A.K.A. character
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 inventing new to the company
And in reality 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, worship me, me) (Repeat 4x)

I pity the untalented, half of y'all is to steal duplicate
The clothes I wear, call promotional staff to get you out
Quick in the magazines to perpetrate me on Ampex reels
On tour most MC's draw sketches of me and watch what I'm
I found out why rappers at me jealous and keep staring
Comparing me to themselves a distance when I walk offstage
Your record label, your group, and your fanbase giving me a ovation
In the Chicago Bull warmup suit and a bald head like Jordan
Six-time championship of the league, four groups in the industry
Rakim and is the only ones rapping pro speed
I 52 rappers per game, I put you to shame
Now you gonna sit in your used and act like you don't know my name
I have to battle anybody nor freestyle
Half of your flows are by rookies working Montreal 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, I'm no joke yo
I ride on the cycle level 3, vomit when 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 with skinny legs and the water head
Time after time you don't know what I'm thinking I come
Into your studio with a white man driving a Continental Lincoln
look at me, y'all 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 about to get up all in fronts
With body shaped like Mitch Green and Tony Tubbs, you don't want this
Go in the corner with your stomach hanging, gold teeth looking
I'm a let you how be, G
No how much your styles change you can't see me
that, light up your ass souped up
Stand behind your backup, with your girlfriend
You're get a lot of feedback
Test the best, you're gonna have on your kneecap

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

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