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'ma 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)