Chorus:
This is a lyrical fasting from whackness
If you ain't blesssing the mic, fam, then please pass it
Your tongue's a two edge sword that keeps slashing
If all you got is garbage to spit, then please trash it

Look fam, do the mic a favor
Just back off with your misbehavior
You don't need to front
Who you think you're playing?
If all you got is lies, don't even bother to say it


Verse 1:
This is that "I'm dead serious, I hope you get the drift" track
I am over the edge hanging right where the cliff's at
This' that "I can't be nobody else but me" song
Anybody other than I spitting, it would be wrong
This is Twisted Optiks, I don't spit nonsense
I put knowledge in hiphop to hit your conscience
You're saturated by what Souljah Boy told you
If I ain't fit your definition of swagger, I must be old school
Oh I ain't hip hop 'cause I ain't copping some hot stuff?
Half the things them rappers be claiming is just a hot bluff
Man I ain't brand new, I been around the way
I kept my lips shut for so long, sorry but not today
So much I observed, rappers having the nerve
To spit a 16 bar hook with 4 bars for a verse
Dropping simple catchy rhymes, tryin' to get your paper
Let the tv show tell it, you ain't smarter than a 5th grader


Chorus:
This is a lyrical fasting from whackness
If you ain't blesssing the mic, fam, then please pass it
Your tongue's a two edge sword that keeps slashing
If all you got is garbage to spit, then please trash it

Look fam, do the mic a favor
Just back off with your misbehavior
You don't need to front
Who you think you're playing?
If all you got is lies, don't even bother to say it


Verse 2:
It's said that many are called but few are chosen
Just 'cause you got a thought don't mean it need to be spoken
See, some rappers don't even belong on the mic
Dropping some garbage on a beat and they swear they are tight
Saying whatever comes to mind, they don't bother to write
Their song sound like a freestyle they dropped while they're high
And their freestyles sound like a first grader wrote 'em
Oh yea, that explains why first graders quote 'em
Kids believe every word like it's all reality
Sad to see, some get caught up and become a casualty
Actually, national radio promote their album
Whatever makes the income, ignoring the sad outcome
There's gotta be a better way to reach the youth
If people ain't feeling you when you're trying to speak the truth
If you ain't feeling me then hit the stop button
Word to Lupe Fiasco, I will dumb down nothing


Chorus:
This is a lyrical fasting from whackness
If you ain't blesssing the mic, fam, then please pass it
Your tongue's a two edge sword that keeps slashing
If all you got is garbage to spit, then please trash it

Look fam, do the mic a favor
Just back off with your misbehavior
You don't need to front
Who you think you're playing?
If all you got is lies, don't even bother to say it


Verse 3:
I asked a friend once, what she thinks of hip hop
She told me, as long as the beat's banging, it gets props
She said the lyrics really don't matter... yeah right
Soon as the radio plays it, she starts to recite
Getting excited like they're playing her song
Ain't even bothered that the lines portray the women as dogs
Until she stops to think about it, how the lyrics are wrong
But still bump the track, thinking she ain't part of the problem
She don't really understand how she's supporting the cause
Radio sees a high demand and starts getting involved
Promoters throw a big concert and she's planning to go
Other rappers see the shine and they mimic the glow
And everybody drop the same song in various ways
The Radio picks them up and give them various plays
Society demoralized, while the problem grows
So to all the trash rap fans, you're the main ones responsible


Chorus:
This is a lyrical fasting from whackness
If you ain't blesssing the mic, fam, then please pass it
Your tongue's a two edge sword that keeps slashing
If all you got is garbage to spit, then please trash it

Look fam, do the mic a favor
Just back off with your misbehavior
You don't need to front
Who you think you're playing?