Luyện nghe bài hát Make'em Feel It

This is jam from 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 cops just to save
Fasten your seatbelt, put on your gear
Prepare for the single, Foxxx is here
fit like a mack man, comes equipped
With a and a style that won't flip
I step smooth, I never break
Keepin my man Kut Terror on the right
You got up to get and got slapped
Tryin to get paid with old bullshit Saran (W)rap
I put the pressure on, a nerve
And now you're outside, a bum on the curb
to be the mack daddy of the microphone
But you can't get nothin now (Freddie's home)
I don't care if you're worldwide and your
allow 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 tryin to play my
Tellin people that we're cool with a grin and a
I mush his face, him a smack
Then I slam him on his and cut 'Foxxx' in his back
When I tell him all the bad things that I heard
I'ma squash him like a dead
And make em it

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

I make a feel the pain, rap's my trade
To kick a rhyme nothin, the key's to get paid
Before I records you played me to the left
But now you bought my jam and you run it to
Mellow rapper was smooth, the name
I used to wax chump rappers it was a game
The rhymes that I've 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 be me, they rather be dead
Lotta do what I do, say what I said
But then you always hear that 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 generatin rhymes at a 1000
Simultaneously handin out
I'm a Foxxx rappin class, I whip up pantsless ass
his cash and sit back and laugh
And him feel it

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

Now I'm a choir, takin rap higher
Ex-friends lost their minds, saw me on the
And was buggin their eyes neighborhood baseheads
to convince themselves, "That ain't Fred"
But my sound made you get down, you recognize my
Started to smile and me a pound
I broke it down ain't nobody wanna give me mines
I came through like a champ behinds
Male and female, rappers as
Know they just can't front cause rhyme'll tell
Lotta rappers off but keep on tryin
But they'll never survive cause slowly dyin
Everybody has a and gases em up
Gets their braincells but that ain't enough
Cause when it's rough and the pressure's too to bear
That's when you - the posse ain't there
Then you're all alone with microphone
Freddie Foxxx is in the vicinity scopin your
Take your moms and your pops and your as prisoners
And they become my brand new
Freeze, sucker, thought I'd ya
The triple x got to on ya
Now layin on the sidewalk, I dare you to talk
If you can kick the rhyme 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 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)