Luyện nghe bài hát Make'em Feel It

This is jam from F-o-x-x-x
Extra-special from the master, so jet
Speakers are pumpin, so it's to survive
But you need more than the cops just to 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 won't flip
I step smooth, I break stride
Keepin my man Kut on the right side
You got up to get down and got
Tryin to get paid some old bullshit Saran (W)rap
I put the pressure on, touched a
And now you're outside, just a bum on the
Used to be the mack of the microphone
But you can't get now cause (Freddie's home)
I care if you're worldwide and your pride
allow you to play the side
Cause you're just a mere mortal, nothin
Beats are under-average and rhymes are ordinary
I'm hearin pros on third LP's
like a bunch of schoolyard MC's
Man, I I'd catch a rapper tryin to play my style
Tellin that we're cool with a grin and a smile
I mush his face, him a smack
Then I him on his head and cut 'Foxxx' in his back
I tell him all the real bad things that I heard
I'ma him like a dead bird
And make em it

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

I make a rapper feel the pain, my trade
To kick a rhyme ain't nothin, the to get paid
Before I made records you played me to the
But now you my jam and you run it to death
Mellow was smooth, remember the name
I used to wax rappers like it was a game
The that I've accumulated and lyrically created
I counted and amounted everyone I ever
second fiddle to rappers, I hate it
But I it and made it to the top
Now I'm a lot of idol, it don't go to my head
Suckers can't be me, they rather be
people do what I do, say what I said
But then you always hear that wanna be like Fred
I'm super 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 handin out
I'm a Foxxx rappin with class, I up pantsless ass
Take his cash and sit and laugh
And him feel it

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

Now I'm a one-man choir, takin rap
Ex-friends lost minds, saw me on the flyer
And was buggin their eyes neighborhood baseheads
to convince themselves, "That ain't Fred"
But my sound made you get down, you my style
Started to smile and me a pound
When I broke it down ain't nobody wanna give me
I came through a champ kickin behinds
Male and female, as well
Know just can't front cause their rhyme'll tell
Lotta rappers off but keep on tryin
But they'll survive cause they're slowly dyin
Everybody has a and gases em up
Gets their braincells hype but that enough
Cause it's rough and the pressure's too much to bear
That's when you - the posse ain't there
Then you're all alone your microphone
Freddie is in the vicinity scopin your home
Take your and your pops and your kids as prisoners
And they my brand new listeners
Freeze, sucker, I'd warned 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 heart and take mic
And make you it

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

I you feel it

Kut
(Can you it)

(Can you it)
em feel it
(Can you it)