Luyện nghe bài hát Make'em Feel It

This is another jam F-o-x-x-x
Extra-special the master, so let's jet
Speakers are pumpin, so it's hard to
But you need than the cops just to save lives
your seatbelt, put on your crashing gear
Prepare yourself for the single, Foxxx is
Lyrically fit like a mack man, comes
With a and a style that won't flip
I step smooth, I break stride
Keepin my man Kut on the right side
You got up to get and got slapped
Tryin to get with some old bullshit Saran (W)rap
I put the pressure on, a nerve
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 don't care if you're worldwide and your
Won't you to play the side
Cause you're just a mortal, nothin extraordinary
Beats are under-average and your rhymes are
I'm pros on their third LP's
Soundin a bunch of schoolyard MC's
Man, I wish I'd catch a rapper to play my style
Tellin people that we're cool with a grin and a
I mush his face, him a smack
Then I slam him on his head and cut in his back
When I tell him all the real bad things I heard
squash him like a dead bird
And em feel it

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

I make a rapper feel the pain, rap's my
To kick a rhyme ain't nothin, the key's to get
Before I records you played me to the left
But now you my jam and you run it to death
rapper was smooth, remember the name
I to wax chump rappers like it was a game
The that I've accumulated and lyrically created
I counted and amounted I ever stated
second fiddle to rappers, I hate it
But I made it and it to the top
Now I'm a lot of people's idol, it don't go to my
Suckers can't be me, rather be dead
Lotta people do what I do, say what I
But then you hear that people wanna be like Fred
I'm super nice with and I'm much sweeter
any Tom, Dick, Bob, Harry or Peter
Cause I'm a general rhymes at a 1000 watts
Simultaneously out knots
I'm a Foxxx rappin with class, I up pantsless ass
Take his cash and sit back and
And make him it

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

Now I'm a one-man choir, takin rap
Ex-friends their minds, saw me on the flyer
And was buggin their eyes neighborhood baseheads
Tryin to themselves, "That ain't Fred"
But my made you get down, you recognize my style
Started to and gave me a pound
When I broke it ain't nobody wanna give me mines
I came through like a champ kickin
Male and female, as well
Know they just can't front their rhyme'll tell
Lotta rappers fall off but keep on
But they'll never cause they're slowly dyin
has a posse and gases em up
Gets their braincells hype but that ain't
Cause when it's rough and the too much to bear
That's when you - the posse ain't there
Then you're all alone with your
Freddie Foxxx is in the scopin your home
Take moms and your pops and your kids as prisoners
And they become my brand new
Freeze, sucker, thought I'd ya
The triple x got to on ya
Now you're layin on the sidewalk, I you to talk
If you can kick the right you can get up and walk
But if you don't, be a pitiful sight
take your heart 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)