[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