This is another jam from Foxxx Extraspecial from the master, so lets jet Speakers are pumpin, so its 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 wont 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 Wrap I put the pressure on, touched a nerve And now youre outside, just a bum on the curb Used to be the mack daddy of the microphone But you cant get nothin now cause Freddies home I dont care if youre worldwide and your pride Wont allow you to play the side Cause youre just a mere mortal, nothin extraordinary Beats are underaverage and your rhymes are ordinary Im hearin pros on their third LPs Soundin like a bunch of schoolyard MCs Man, I wish Id catch a rapper tryin to play my style Tellin people that were 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 Imma 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, raps my trade To kick a rhyme aint nothin, the keys 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 Ive 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 Im a lot of peoples idol, it dont go to my head Suckers cant 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 Im super nice with mines and Im much sweeter Than any Tom, Dick, Bob, Harry or Peter Cause Im a general generatin rhymes at a 1000 watts Simultaneously handin out knots Im 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 Im a oneman choir, takin rap higher Exfriends lost their minds, saw me on the flyer And was buggin their eyes like neighborhood baseheads Tryin to convince themselves, That aint 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 aint nobody wanna give me mines I came through like a champ kickin behinds Male and female, rappers as well Know they just cant front cause their rhymell tell Lotta rappers fall off but keep on tryin But theyll never survive cause theyre slowly dyin Everybody has a posse and gases em up Gets their braincells hype but that aint enough Cause when its rough and the pressures too much to bear Thats when you notice the posse aint there Then youre 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 Id warned ya The triple x got to drop on ya Now youre 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 dont, youll be a pitiful sight Ill 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
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