Luyện nghe bài hát Make'em Feel It

This is another jam from
from the master, so let's 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 crashing
yourself for the single, Foxxx is here
Lyrically fit like a mack man, equipped
With a guard and a that won't flip
I smooth, I never break stride
Keepin my man Kut on the right side
You got up to get down and got
Tryin to get paid with some old bullshit (W)rap
I put the pressure on, touched a
And now you're outside, a bum on the curb
Used to be the daddy of the microphone
But you get nothin now cause (Freddie's home)
I care if you're worldwide and your pride
Won't allow you to play the
Cause you're just a mere mortal, extraordinary
Beats are under-average and your are ordinary
I'm hearin on their third LP's
like a bunch of schoolyard MC's
Man, I wish I'd a rapper tryin to play my style
people that we're cool with a grin and a smile
I mush his face, give him a
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 a dead bird
And make em it

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

I make a rapper the pain, rap's 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 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 rhymes that I've and lyrically created
I counted and amounted everyone I ever
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 don't go to my
Suckers be me, they rather be dead
people do what I do, say what I said
But then you always hear that wanna be like Fred
I'm super nice with mines and I'm sweeter
Than any Tom, Dick, Bob, or Peter
Cause I'm a generatin rhymes at a 1000 watts
Simultaneously out knots
I'm a Foxxx rappin with class, I whip up ass
Take his and sit back and laugh
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 buggin their eyes like baseheads
to convince themselves, "That ain't Fred"
But my sound you get down, you recognize my style
to smile and gave me a pound
When I broke it down ain't wanna give me mines
I through like a champ kickin behinds
Male and female, rappers as
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
Everybody has a posse and em up
Gets their braincells hype but that enough
when it's rough and the pressure's too much to bear
That's when you notice - the ain't there
Then you're all alone with your
Freddie is in the vicinity scopin your home
Take your and your pops and your kids as prisoners
And they become my new listeners
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 right rhyme you can get up and
But if you don't, be a pitiful sight
I'll take your heart and your mic
And make you 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)