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, at your engineer:
A Japanese guy with glasses on with leg jeans and a beer
Got you on Hit with four groupies with acne
Thinking you a masterpiece, chewing peanuts in your session
I'm a learn you a lesson: all y'all write
You just a new with an ordinary gimmick and radio and poster hype
Now that 3, 000 lost their jobs, I'ma see how your record do
But stuttering out your boo boo, can't give a decent interview
I was always about you
Your whole group evolving different 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 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 you're of me
(Y'all can't wait for my album to come out to something new)

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

I pity the untalented, of y'all creativity is to steal duplicate
The I wear, call your promotional staff to get you out
Quick in the magazines to me on your Ampex reels
On tour most draw sketches of me and watch what I'm wearing
I out why rappers look at me jealous and keep staring
Comparing me to from a distance when I walk offstage
Your record label, group, and your fanbase giving me a standing ovation
In the Chicago Bull warmup and a bald head like Michael Jordan
Six-time championship of the league, four million in the industry
and Canibus 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 don't know my
I don't have to battle nor freestyle
of your flows are written by rookies working Montreal Expos
I care if you act wild, bring your raps to the studio
I'ma get in booty, yo
set up a bag of dust on the console
So you can do this, up, and smoke, yo, cause I'm no joke yo
I might ride on the 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, me, worship me, worship me) (Repeat 2x)

I don't play with skinny legs and the head
Time time you don't know what I'm thinking when I come
Into your studio professional with a white man driving a Lincoln
Groupies look at me, y'all don't pay me no
I'm about to tear a new ass in kid, he'd better not let me rhyme
Yeah, take a break, order some
I'm about to get up all in fronts
With your body shaped like Mitch Green and Tony Tubbs, you 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, 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, worship me, worship me, me) (Repeat 2x)

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