Hyperaptive - High скачать в хорошем качестве

Hyperaptive - High

Facebook:   / hyperaptive   Instragram:   / hyperaptive   iTunes:   apple.co/3jgi8cv   Spotify:   spoti.fi/37ma8is   Soundcloud:   / hyperaptive   Official Music Video to Hyperaptive - High. Produced by Lenn Beats, co-produced by Hyperaptive. Lyrics: Verse 1: The fans are like “where you been at?”, I’ve been in the lab planning classics man relax, Cooking beats and bars to put my name on the map, Like I was doing for years before anyone even gave a crap! Now every time I rap, It’s a full throttle-banger, Couldn’t be my equal even if you was my doppelgänger, Nice guy in life but on the mic I drop-all-manners, Man I’m pissing on these rappers ’til I’ve emptied out my bladder, All I’m hearing is blabber, Tracks with no-variety, That’s why I wrote-maniacally, ’Til I built my notoriety, Still addicted to this game I’ve never known-sobriety, My psychiatry’s, what keeps me safe to roam-society! Been advancing every tick-of-the-clock, Now I’m bringing the kind of heat that made Icarus-drop, Fuck a door to the industry I’m picking-the-locks, And dashing a grenade inside man I’m sick-of-the-lot... Hook: They already know, Killing every beat, rhyme, lyric, every flow, In this for the art, could give a fuck if I blow, ‘Cause the sickness inside this mind is only gonna grow, And it’s just gonna keep spreading ’til the day I die, Aint a damn limit, that I won’t defy, Still fully addicted to my medicine supply, If you think I’m gonna quit now man you must be high... Verse 2: I spit like a genius, Magical-as-a-genie-is, Radical-as-Houdini-is, Tragical-and-just-tedious, That’s what your CD-is, Mechanical-as-the-media’s, List of fake rappers talking greeziest, See I’m just a simple rapper with pipe-dreams, Of one day having the opportunity to ignite-streams, Of Gasoline, Over the pussy rappers on my-screen, Hear them scream, And watch them burn as the light-gleams! I’ve been a mic-fiend, Since back in 01 as a kid with a pad and a pen-in-my-grasp, Addicted to killing the beats and the rhymes, to get an adrenaline-blast, A skill that I’d only go on to refine, always developing-fast, Ignoring the haters and people who said I would never excel-in-my-craft, The nerve-of-the-cunts, Used to chat behind my back, now they’re serving-me-lunch! Aint a fucking rapper here that I won’t verbally-crunch, And when I said I was here to the end it was never hyperbole-once… (Hook) Verse 3: This ain’t checkers this is chess, That’s why I stay 20 steps, Ahead of the rest, So while your shitty tunes’ll be here a year at best, I’ll still be remembered eons after I’m gone in the flesh, The skill that I possess, Aint something I need to validate, Soon as I touch a mic these motherfuckers salivate, If your top 10 rapper list ain’t where you allocate, Me, then that’s a list you need to fucking recalibrate! I’ll show you what it means to start-from-the-bottom, Coming from the streets of London where it’s dark-and-it’s-rotten, Another broke mum, another fatherless-tot-and, I’ve come a long way now, but I’ve far-from-forgotten, All the memories, the pain-and-the-stress, With music as my only real way-to-express, Never took a rest, Stayed chained-to-the-desk, And I’ll be here still as obsessed, 'Til the day I meet the angel-of-death… (Hook) All Rights Reserved 2015 ©