Hyperaptive - Locked & Loaded (Beef Track) lyrics

[Intro: Hyperaptive] Yo Who the f** 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 f** 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 sh**, if I get on MTV So rich your house is looking like a tent to me I'll still do this sensibly f** 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 f** 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 f**ing fanbase'll tear to shreds Drastik and Stryder, nothing but the coldest f** you's both, we got it locked and loaded [Hook: Hyperaptive] We keep this locked and loaded, anyone who tries to take My f**ing 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 sh** Now you know I don't chat about firing clips But i'll fire a fact and that's Stryder's sh** 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 f**ing 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