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)