1st Verse:
Commusication, raisin' the level of MC, elevation. I know you been
waitin' for this, salivatin', it's aggrivating. They ain't saying nothing now
days and they focus is off center. Radio stations playin' shit that
shouldn't even be contenders. Mind benders like myself are few and far
to find. Labels goin' for no talent and rappers goin' for shine. I'm goin'
outta my mind. It's getting harder to find the art. I'm communicating
through music trampelining a jump start. Lookin' to spark memories of
the past of the industry 'cause I'm trapped in the present when all these
rappers should envy me. Knowing I'm literally better than 90% of these
cats but A&Rs turning their backs seeing where my lyrics at.
Underground they knowin' Mac, showin' love in different places. But my
phonics is wasted. They listenin' with blank faces. Makin' me sick but
I'm taking this shit on despite location, communicating my heart through
music, Commusication.

2nd Verse:
I'm trapped in an area where they ain't tryin' to be hearin' ya. They
say, "You East Coast" or over the heads of the f'n stereotype. But it
might be that when I'm writing, I'm sighting higher than just two f'n
states. My mindstate's in the state of fighting the residing, pirana biting,
continual, identical rappers. See, I'm an MC, not a rapper.
MACROPHONIC you f'n bastards. Captured behind enemy lines but
I'm hopin' to eye a chopper flyin' over the horizon findin' my camp and I
hope they drop a f'n monster napalmer!! Bomb this bitch, leave nothin'
standin'. Then maybe, the real lyricist can reclaim the throne as the
champion. Stampin' the weak out of existence, this survival of the
fittest. In the true spirit of "F the Foundation", I'm gonna rip it. With a
vengance 'cause I'm in it. Deep in the trenches, bustin' teeth. 'Cause
y'all got me on some shit I've been wantin' to talk about since 93!! And I
know some mufukas still ain't even gon' understand what I be sayin',
but let me ask you this, if you knew you sucked, wouldn't you say it was
playa hatin'?