Kool Keith - Bow To The Masta Lyrics
That's right 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 started rappin')I can tell you can't rap, look at your engineer:A Japanese guy with glasses on with straight leg jeans and a beerGot you on Hit Factory with four groupies with acneThinking you recording a masterpiece, chewing peanuts in your sessionI'm a learn you a lesson: all y'all can't writeYou just a new group with an ordinary gimmick and radio and poster hypeNow that 3,000 people lost their jobs, I'ma see how your record doBut you're stuttering out your boo boo, can't give a decent interviewI was always wondering about youYour whole group evolving different images around meActing like they don't copy me when they see meYou've spent your whole life listening to "Critical Beatdown"You's a secret fan; every time I create an A.K.A. characterMost of you groups out there are so wack, looking at my shoes in my videosThe back of my album cover, and stealing my marketing planLike you inventing something new to the companyand in reality you're clones of me(Y'all can't wait for my album to come out to steal something new) You should bow to the master!(Worship me, worship me, worship me, worship me) (Repeat 4x)I pity the untalented, half of y'all creativity is to steal duplicateThe clothes I wear, call your promotional staff to get you outQuick in the magazines to perpetrate me on your Ampex reelsOn tour most MC's draw sketches of me and watch what I'm wearingI found out why rappers look at me jealous and keep staringComparing me to themselves from a distance when I walk offstageYour record label, your group, and your fanbase giving me a standing ovationIn the Chicago Bull warmup suit and a bald head like Michael JordanSix-time championship of the league, four million groups in the industryRakim and Canibus is the only ones rapping pro speedI average 52 rappers per game, I put you to shameNow you gonna sit in your used Expedition and act like you don't know my nameI don't have to battle anybody nor freestyleHalf of your flows are written by rookies working Montreal ExposI don't care if you act wild, bring your raps to the studioI'ma get in your booty, yoI'ma set up a bag of dust on the consoleSo you can do this, light up, and smoke, yo, cause I'm no joke yoI might ride on the cycle level 3, vomit when you go in the boothYour product manager is going to say, "Yo who is he?"(Yo who is that, man?) You should bow to the master!(Worship me, worship me, worship me, worship me) (Repeat 2x)I don't play with skinny legs and the water headTime after time you don't know what I'm thinking when I comeInto your studio professional with a white man driving a Continental LincolnGroupies look at me, y'all don't pay me no mindI'm about to tear a new ass in this kid, he'd better not let me rhymeYeah, take a break, order some bluntsI'm about to get up all in your frontsWith your body shaped like Mitch Green and Tony Tubbs, you don't want thisGo in the corner with your stomach hanging, gold teeth looking sneakyI'm a let you know how be, GNo matter how much your styles change you can't see meBelieve that, light up your ass souped upStand behind your backup, with your acne-faced girlfriendYou're gonna get a lot of feedbackTest the best, you're gonna have water on your kneecap You should bow to the master!(Worship me, worship me, worship me, worship me) (Repeat 2x)Yeah, I'm sorry Blaze Magazine, I'm firstThe other 49 rappers are behind me, what?!
