Lyric I m Ready
(You) (you) (you) (you rappers can t be like Fred)
(You) (you) (you) (you rappers can t be like Fred
(You) (you) (you) (you rappers can t be like Fred
A-) (a-) (a-) (a-) (a-) (a-) (and you hate it)
[ VERSE 1 ]
This is a rap session
And I m the man at the podium speakin
Keepin you dancin and freakin
I came alive from the world of streets, baddest beats
And bashed up a lotta MC s to find my seat
So cover your chest, protect your head
If a rhyme catches your mind sleep, you fall dead
I kick it wicked like a wizard, rhymin every letter
To beat me, you got to have a army or better
Bum-rushin other rappers like Rhyme-O-Cop
This is a contact sport, it s called hip-hop
You suckers can t hang when I m rhymin fast
Cause your mic doesn t have enough power to last
But when I slow it down to a moderate speed
You catch a migraine headache and a nose bleed
Whenever I break wild, you call Jake
You try to slow me down, but your first mistake
Was to ever approach me with your primitive skills
Not a backyard party rapper tryin to get ill
I m a pro, professional rhymes leave my lips
My rhymes coinicde with your dancin hips
Kut Terror place his scratch wild, and hold the beat steady
Cause I m ready
[ VERSE 2 ]
When I hit the stage, pandemonium rises
Cause I delight the crowd with different surprises
Beatbreaks play, and the king has arisen
Chump rappers in the back start ploppin and fizzin
I always keep my eyes on a worthy opponent
Cause it ll really be a trick to see em lose, won t it?
I keep myself ready and prepared for all
I handle whatever call, too strong to fall
When you see Freddie Foxxx, you know you ll be entertained
When the show s all over and the sound remains
In your brain and you walk away sayin my rhyme
Feelin good like a man that don t eat swine
Fall asleep at night, and you start to dream
If you was a paid rapper on the hip-hop scene
You d be heavy on the neck, and your pockets are fat
But bein a rap star s a bit more than that
You have to have a listenin ear for new ideas
And speak your words fluent, so everything s clear
The mumblin jumbo s a comical gimmick
That the devils make money off and suckers can mimick
When you run out of rhymes, gonna stand there sweaty
Cause you wasn t ready
Like Freddie the Foxxx
I m ready
[ VERSE 3 ]
Street rappers hear a style that they like a lot
When they make that first record, their rhymes are hot
Not hot like you hear it on the radio all the time
But hot like stolen rhymes
Whatever s whispered in darkness, has to come to light
So imagine what would happen if I gave you the mic
One night, and you recite somethin you didn t write
If it belonged to Freddie Foxxx, you might have to fight
I throw jabs and rights, left hooks and hay-makers
Only luck can duck the bone-breaker
You re caught in a vice grip, tight and squeezin
Whinin and cryin, beggin and pleadin
I m lyrical and mystical, I want you to know
Cause when you gear up to come to a show
Don t wonder why thunder hit my stage
It s Freddie Foxxx on a rappin rage
I make rappers real nervous, give em the jitters
Give em e for effin and I beat up the quitter
Hold my hand around his neck and I grab him by the hair
Then Karate-kick him like Mataka Bear
Rappers boast and brag about their lyrical skills
But they all shut the fuck up when I break ill
Cause I take all races and house both sexes
They got a reason to sweat the three X s
I m ready
(You) (you) (you) (you rappers can t be like Fred
(You) (you) (you) (you rappers can t be like Fred
A-) (a-) (a-) (a-) (a-) (a-) (and you hate it)
[ VERSE 1 ]
This is a rap session
And I m the man at the podium speakin
Keepin you dancin and freakin
I came alive from the world of streets, baddest beats
And bashed up a lotta MC s to find my seat
So cover your chest, protect your head
If a rhyme catches your mind sleep, you fall dead
I kick it wicked like a wizard, rhymin every letter
To beat me, you got to have a army or better
Bum-rushin other rappers like Rhyme-O-Cop
This is a contact sport, it s called hip-hop
You suckers can t hang when I m rhymin fast
Cause your mic doesn t have enough power to last
But when I slow it down to a moderate speed
You catch a migraine headache and a nose bleed
Whenever I break wild, you call Jake
You try to slow me down, but your first mistake
Was to ever approach me with your primitive skills
Not a backyard party rapper tryin to get ill
I m a pro, professional rhymes leave my lips
My rhymes coinicde with your dancin hips
Kut Terror place his scratch wild, and hold the beat steady
Cause I m ready
[ VERSE 2 ]
When I hit the stage, pandemonium rises
Cause I delight the crowd with different surprises
Beatbreaks play, and the king has arisen
Chump rappers in the back start ploppin and fizzin
I always keep my eyes on a worthy opponent
Cause it ll really be a trick to see em lose, won t it?
I keep myself ready and prepared for all
I handle whatever call, too strong to fall
When you see Freddie Foxxx, you know you ll be entertained
When the show s all over and the sound remains
In your brain and you walk away sayin my rhyme
Feelin good like a man that don t eat swine
Fall asleep at night, and you start to dream
If you was a paid rapper on the hip-hop scene
You d be heavy on the neck, and your pockets are fat
But bein a rap star s a bit more than that
You have to have a listenin ear for new ideas
And speak your words fluent, so everything s clear
The mumblin jumbo s a comical gimmick
That the devils make money off and suckers can mimick
When you run out of rhymes, gonna stand there sweaty
Cause you wasn t ready
Like Freddie the Foxxx
I m ready
[ VERSE 3 ]
Street rappers hear a style that they like a lot
When they make that first record, their rhymes are hot
Not hot like you hear it on the radio all the time
But hot like stolen rhymes
Whatever s whispered in darkness, has to come to light
So imagine what would happen if I gave you the mic
One night, and you recite somethin you didn t write
If it belonged to Freddie Foxxx, you might have to fight
I throw jabs and rights, left hooks and hay-makers
Only luck can duck the bone-breaker
You re caught in a vice grip, tight and squeezin
Whinin and cryin, beggin and pleadin
I m lyrical and mystical, I want you to know
Cause when you gear up to come to a show
Don t wonder why thunder hit my stage
It s Freddie Foxxx on a rappin rage
I make rappers real nervous, give em the jitters
Give em e for effin and I beat up the quitter
Hold my hand around his neck and I grab him by the hair
Then Karate-kick him like Mataka Bear
Rappers boast and brag about their lyrical skills
But they all shut the fuck up when I break ill
Cause I take all races and house both sexes
They got a reason to sweat the three X s
I m ready
