Luyện nghe bài hát Bow To The Masta

That's y'all, the K double-O L, K-E-I-T-H (South Bronx)
I'm in here, I'm a let you know (I rappin')

I can tell you can't rap, look at engineer:
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, chewing peanuts in session
I'm a learn you a lesson: all y'all write
You just a new group with an ordinary gimmick and 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, give a decent interview
I was always about you
Your whole group evolving different images me
Acting they don't copy me when they see me
You've spent your whole life to "Critical Beatdown"
You's a secret fan; every I create an A.K.A. character
Most of you groups out there are so wack, looking at my shoes in my
The back of my album cover, and stealing my plan
Like you inventing new to the company
And in reality clones of me
(Y'all can't for my album to come out to steal something new)

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

I pity the untalented, half of y'all creativity is to steal
The clothes I wear, call your promotional to get you out
Quick in the magazines to perpetrate me on your Ampex
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 when I offstage
Your record label, your group, and your fanbase giving me a standing
In the Chicago Bull warmup suit and a bald head like Michael
Six-time championship of the league, four million 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 Expedition and act like you know my name
I don't have to battle anybody nor
Half of your are written by rookies working Montreal Expos
I don't if you act wild, bring your raps to the studio
I'ma get in booty, yo
I'ma set up a bag of dust on the
So you can do this, light up, and smoke, yo, cause I'm no yo
I might ride on the cycle level 3, vomit when you go in the
Your product manager is to say, "Yo who is he?"
(Yo who is that, man?)

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

I don't play skinny legs and the water head
Time after time you don't know I'm thinking when I come
Into your studio professional with a man driving a Continental Lincoln
Groupies 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, order blunts
I'm to get up all in your 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 looking
I'm a let you how be, G
No matter how your styles change you can't see me
that, light up your ass souped up
Stand your backup, with your 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 sorry Magazine, I'm first
The 49 rappers are behind me, what?!