Lyrics written by M^SK © 2025 M^SK. All rights reserved. “A master is not born… he is made through fire and time.” “Only through discipline can one reach the highest level.” Yo, it’s that Shaolin iron, the verbal leviathan, Fist break stone, I bend minds like a trident. They ain’t ready for this—nah, they ain’t ready! [Verse 1] I move like the Grandmaster, smoke like a rasta, Chamber doors locked, now behold The Master. Palm-strike rappers, leave they spirit in the rafters, Break ‘em down to decimals, they couldn’t count my chapters. Yo, I studied with the old heads, learned from the ghost, Taught to keep my blade sharp, never brag, never boast. Split a mic like a brick, then I flip it like O’s, I was raised where the hunger turns boys into pros. I don’t rap—I manifest, carve it in stone, Give sight to the blind with these scriptures I’ve honed. Ain’t no playin’ both sides when you stand in my dojo, Strike like a viper, lyrical death in slow-mo. “Only fools swing wild—precision is the way.” [Chorus] Bow to The Master—swift blade, mic blaster, Hand strike faster than your brain could react, son. Shaolin shadowbox, move with precision, I see through your lies like a monk with a vision. “Yo, we cut through the smoke like swords in the night! Hah!”) [Verse 2] Yo, I scribble thoughts in the air, make the pen levitate, Silk robe, dragon crest, gold teeth, heavy plate. I seen killers turn monks, seen gods lose faith, But I stayed in the temple, let my style marinate. Mink robes draggin’, holographic vision, Spit darts so sharp, make a mic need stitches. Fiends on the block treat my verse like a fix, Every syllable precise, every bar got a kick. I wrote this in a thunderstorm, ink made from python, Lessons from the shogun, taught to keep the lights on. Sat with old monks who deciphered the scrolls, Every gem from my lips worth a pyramid of gold. “One who knows himself… fears no enemy.” Knowledge in my veins, got the scrolls in my brain, Meditate ‘til my aura make the sky start to rain. Scribes of the ancients, born through the matrix, Touch the mic once—turn the booth to a spaceship. I step in the ring with the weight of my sins— The Master don’t fall, he just rise once again! Verbal assassin, I strike with the force— Any rapper want beef? Get folded like cloth. No chain, no ice, just a mind full of gems— Yo, I cut through the noise like a sword in the wind. Eyes sharp, hands quick, stay locked in position— Yo, they talk like kings but they lack the precision! “To master the art, one must master himself.”) [Chorus] Bow to The Master—swift blade, mic blaster, Hand strike faster than your brain could react, son. Shaolin shadowbox, move with precision, I see through your lies like a monk with a vision. “You have mastered”
