Bow To The Masta Lyrics - Kool Keith

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 beer 

Got you on Hit Factory with four groupies with acne 

Thinking you recording a masterpiece, chewing peanuts in your session 

I'm a learn you a lesson: all y'all can't write 

You just a new group with an ordinary gimmick and radio and poster hype 

Now that 3,000 people lost their jobs, I'm a see how your record do 

But you're stuttering out your boo boo, can't give a decent interview 

I was always wondering about you 

Your whole group evolving different images around me 

Acting like they don't copy me when they see me 

You've spent your whole life listening to "Critical Beatdown" 

You's a secret fan; every time I create an A.K.A. character 

Most of you groups out there are so wack, looking at my shoes in my videos 

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The back of my album cover, and stealing my marketing plan 

Like you inventing something new to the company 

and 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: x4] 

I pity the untalented, half of why'all creativity is to steal duplicate 

The clothes I wear, call your promotional staff to get you out 

Quick in the magazines to perpetrate me on your Ampex reels 

On tour most MC's draw sketches of me and watch what I'm wearing 

I found out why rappers look at me jealous and keep staring 

Comparing me to themselves from a distance when I walk offstage 

Your record label, your group, and your fanbase giving me a standing ovation 

In the Chicago Bull warmup suit and a bald head like Michael Jordan 

Six-time championship of the league, four million groups in the industry 

Rakim and Canibus is the only ones rapping pro speed 

I average 52 rappers per game, I put you to shame 

Now you gonna sit in your used Expedition and act like you don't know my name 

Photos 

I don't have to battle anybody nor freestyle 

Half of your flows are written by rookies working Montreal Expos 

I don't care if you act wild, bring your raps to the studio 

I'm a get in your booty, yo 

I'm a set up a bag of dust on the console 

So you can do this, light up, and smoke, yo, cause I'm no joke yo 

I might ride on the cycle level 3, vomit when you go in the booth 

Your 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 head 

Time after time you don't know what I'm thinking when I come 

Into your studio professional with a white man driving a Continental Lincoln 

Groupies look at me, y'all don't pay me no mind 

I'm about to tear a new ass in this kid, he'd better not let me rhyme 

Yeah, take a break, order some blunts 

I'm about to get up all in your fronts 

With your body shaped like Mitch Green and Tony Tubbs, you don't want this 

Go in the corner with your stomach hanging, gold teeth looking sneaky 

I'm a let you know how be, G 

No matter how much your styles change you can't see me 

Believe that, light up your ass souped up 

Stand behind your backup, with your acne-faced girlfriend 

You're gonna get a lot of feedback 

Test 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 first 

The other 49 rappers are behind me, what?!