Tekster: Freddie Foxxx. 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-and you hate it

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

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 everythin's clear
The mumblin? jumbo's a comical gimmick
That the devils make money off and suckers can mimic
When you run out of rhymes, gonna stand there sweaty
'Cause you wasn't ready, like Freddie the Foxxx
I'm ready

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