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)