Luyện nghe bài hát Make'em Feel It

This is another jam F-o-x-x-x
Extra-special from the master, so jet
are pumpin, so it's hard to survive
But you need more than the just to save lives
Fasten your seatbelt, put on your gear
yourself for the single, Foxxx is here
Lyrically fit like a mack man, equipped
With a guard and a style that flip
I smooth, I never break stride
Keepin my man Kut Terror on the right
You got up to get down and got
to get paid with some old bullshit Saran (W)rap
I put the on, touched a nerve
And now outside, just a bum on the curb
Used to be the mack daddy of the
But you can't get nothin now (Freddie's home)
I don't care if you're worldwide and pride
Won't you to play the side
you're just a mere mortal, nothin extraordinary
Beats are under-average and your are ordinary
I'm hearin pros on their LP's
Soundin like a bunch of schoolyard
Man, I wish I'd catch a rapper tryin to play my
Tellin that we're cool with a grin and a smile
I his face, give him a smack
Then I him on his head and cut 'Foxxx' in his back
When I tell him all the real bad things I heard
I'ma squash him like a dead
And em feel it

( *DJ Kut Terrorist up* )
(Can you it)

I a rapper feel the pain, rap's my trade
To kick a ain't nothin, the key's to get paid
Before I made records you me to the left
But now you bought my jam and you run it to
Mellow was smooth, remember the name
I used to wax chump rappers like it was a
The that I've accumulated and lyrically created
I counted and amounted everyone I stated
Play fiddle to rappers, I hate it
But I it and made it to the top
Now I'm a lot of people's idol, it go to my head
Suckers can't be me, they rather be
Lotta do what I do, say what I said
But then you always hear that people wanna be Fred
I'm nice with mines and I'm much sweeter
Than any Tom, Dick, Bob, or Peter
Cause I'm a general generatin rhymes at a 1000
Simultaneously out knots
I'm a Foxxx rappin with class, I whip up ass
Take his cash and sit back and
And make him it

( *DJ Kut cuts up* )
(Can you it)

Now I'm a choir, takin rap higher
Ex-friends lost minds, saw me on the flyer
And was their eyes like neighborhood baseheads
to convince themselves, "That ain't Fred"
But my made you get down, you recognize my style
to smile and gave me a pound
When I broke it down ain't nobody wanna me mines
I came through a champ kickin behinds
and female, rappers as well
Know they just can't front cause their tell
Lotta rappers fall off but keep on
But they'll never survive cause they're dyin
has a posse and gases em up
Gets their braincells hype but ain't enough
Cause when it's rough and the too much to bear
That's when you notice - the ain't there
you're all alone with your microphone
Freddie Foxxx is in the vicinity your home
Take moms and your pops and your kids as prisoners
And they become my new listeners
Freeze, sucker, thought I'd ya
The x got to drop on ya
Now you're on the sidewalk, I dare you to talk
If you can kick the right you can get up and walk
But if you don't, you'll be a pitiful
I'll take your and take your mic
And you feel it

( *DJ Kut Terrorist up* )
(Can you it)

I you feel it

Kut
(Can you it)

(Can you it)
Make em it
(Can you it)