Make 'Em Feel It

This is another jam from F-o-x-x-x Extra-special from the master, so let's jet Speakers are pumpin, so it's hard to survive But you need more than the cops just to save lives Fasten your seatbelt, put on your crashing gear Prepare yourself for the single, Foxxx is here Lyrically fit like a mack man, comes equipped With a guard and a style that won't flip I step smooth, I never break stride Keepin my man Kut Terror on the right side You got up to get down and got slapped Tryin to get paid with some old bullshit Saran (W)rap I put the pressure on, touched a nerve And now you're outside, just a bum on the curb Used to be the mack daddy of the microphone But you can't get nothin now cause (Freddie's home) I don't care if you're worldwide and your pride Won't allow you to play the side Cause you're just a mere mortal, nothin extraordinary Beats are under-average and your rhymes are ordinary I'm hearin pros on their third LP's Soundin like a bunch of schoolyard MC's Man, I wish I'd catch a rapper tryin to play my style Tellin people that we're cool with a grin and a smile I mush his face, give him a smack Then I slam him on his head and cut 'Foxxx' in his back When I tell him all the real bad things that I heard I'mma squash him like a dead bird And make em feel it ( *DJ Kut Terrorist cuts up* ) (Can you feel it) I make a rapper feel the pain, rap's my trade To kick a rhyme ain't nothin, the key's to get paid Before I made records you played me to the left But now you bought my jam and you run it to death Mellow rapper was smooth, remember the name I used to wax chump rappers like it was a game The rhymes that I've accumulated and lyrically created I counted and amounted everyone I ever stated Play second fiddle to rappers, I hate it But I made it and made it to the top Now I'm a lot of people's idol, it don't go to my head Suckers can't be me, they rather be dead Lotta people do what I do, say what I said But then you always hear that people wanna be like Fred I'm super nice with mines and I'm much sweeter Than any Tom, Dick, Bob, Harry or Peter Cause I'm a general generatin rhymes at a 1000 watts Simultaneously handin out knots I'm a Foxxx rappin with class, I whip up pantsless ass Take his cash and sit back and laugh And make him feel it ( *DJ Kut Terrorist cuts up* ) (Can you feel it) Now I'm a one-man choir, takin rap higher Ex-friends lost their minds, saw me on the flyer And was buggin their eyes like neighborhood baseheads Tryin to convince themselves, "That ain't Fred" But my sound made you get down, you recognize my style Started to smile and gave me a pound When I broke it down ain't nobody wanna give me mines I came through like a champ kickin behinds Male and female, rappers as well Know they just can't front cause their rhyme'll tell Lotta rappers fall off but keep on tryin But they'll never survive cause they're slowly dyin Everybody has a posse and gases em up Gets their braincells hype but that ain't enough Cause when it's rough and the pressure's too much to bear That's when you notice - the posse ain't there Then you're all alone with your microphone Freddie Foxxx is in the vicinity scopin your home Take your moms and your pops and your kids as prisoners And they become my brand new listeners Freeze, sucker, thought I'd warned ya The triple x got to drop on ya Now you're layin on the sidewalk, I dare you to talk If you can kick the right rhyme you can get up and walk But if you don't, you'll be a pitiful sight I'll take your heart and take your mic And make you feel it ( *DJ Kut Terrorist cuts up* ) (Can you feel it) I make you feel it Kut Terrorist (Can you feel it) Listen (Can you feel it) Make em feel it (Can you feel it)