[Intro: Hyperaptive]

Yo

Who the fuck wants to beef with me? seriously

Torrano, Hyper-raptive

Let's go

[Verse 1: Hyperaptive]

Rap to me, it's just like it's meant to be

Fuck the year I'm the rhymer of the century

Got this rap locked and guarded like a sentry

And I'm on top the focus like a centerpiece

But I could give a shit, if I get on MTV

So rich your house is looking like a tent to me

I'll still do this sensibly

Fuck all this commercialism selling out and sensory

I'm on a big boy flex you're elementary

So open your ears and listen attentively

You should look and hard before you mention me

Cos once I go into this I go in it mentally

Dementedly, like the devil sent for me

You're gonna regret stepping to me eventually

Once I'm ten to three inches from potentially

Having everybody who knows you ascend to me

[Verse 2: Torrano]

Wanna be a soulja G?

You're on a level that never comes close to me

You're hope to compete with a great lyricist

That is ripping hits, but you never blown a beat to bits

That's me, I blow the street with hits

I'm neat, you're so not beating this

Two minutes, put ink to sheet

That's you, gone, history

Mr.T's here, watch me mechanically fix the beat

With a rhyme that can release the beast

I don't give a fuck about the name that you rep

Or your phony team, i'll take it in steps

First it's you, then your phony group

Then your whole fucking fanbase'll tear to shreds

Drastik and Stryder, nothing but the coldest

Fuck you's both, we got it locked and loaded

[Hook: Hyperaptive]

We keep this locked and loaded, anyone who tries to take

My fucking spot's eroded, and soon exposed as fake

That's when you drop from showbiz, and I just take your place

But you can have lots of roses, on your career's funeral case

[Verse 3: Hyperaptive]

Just cos I ain't a gangsta, and I don't act like I'm hard

Don't ever think that I won't smash you to shards

The fact is, simply that Hyperaptive is far

Ahead of your level so go home and practice your bars

It takes more than average to capture the throne

I got the bars that hit your skull and fracture your dome

Yeah it's true, now that my stature has grown

That i've got a couple little fake actors and clones

Trying to beg beef, when you really ain't got the fibre

Lil Nik, Slim Grim, Drastik Man, Stryder

Temper Man, yeah the list just gets wider

But on a level you must've downed too much Cider

You ain't getting attention, no extra fame

You're nothing to me or anyone, you're specs of grain

Couldn't even get on my nerves of affect the veins

Should quit while you're ahead and just less the pain

But one thing, on this little Drastik Man

Trying to clash to beef, you're plastic fam

The definition of wigger little spastic standing

Like a lanky stretched out elastic band

[Verse 4: Torrano]

That's a fact, come on how you gonna stop the greatest?

When I got 'em bowed down polishing my trainers

You're an actor, chatting like you're violent kid

You better wave the white flag like Dido did

I've got no time for pricks

Fake little brehs trying to get signed and shit

Now you know I don't chat about firing clips

But i'll fire a fact and that's Stryder's shit

Don't hate, cos you know I'm rhyming with

Sick rhymes and bars that combine a kid

To give up the game, and decide to quit

You can hate man, but I know the fact is

[Hook: Hyperaptive] (x2)

We keep this locked and loaded, anyone who tries to take

My fucking spot's eroded, and soon exposed as fake

That's when you drop from showbiz, and I just take your place

But you can have lots of roses, on your career's funeral case