lirik lagu golden era records – wsup
[commentary: briggs]
yo, check it out. what do you get when you put the whole g.e. camp in the one place, in the one time, on the one beat? you get a motherf-cking problem, that’s what you get.
[verse 1: suffa]
check
you’re in session with them boys from g.e.
we can’t even pretend to be some toys like e.t., we lose ’em
when we mix breaks won’t see me, confuse ’em
like how there’s mixtapes on cd, abuse ’em
like stepdads drunk and just made redundant
and you hear footsteps down your hallway thundering
we got trials [?]
you can’t find a better man, just go ask any [?]
[verse 2: briggs]
i’m an animal with a catapult and a bone to pick (son)
the chip on my shoulder is as big as this boulder is (son)
the squad is back with the golden cliche
like the one and only briggs, i’m not e.t., i never phone it in
so hold your horses or your holden ’cause you can’t afford
to catch an elbow for whatever the f-ck it is you asking for
mongrel, can’t avoid the banana store
chewing on the carc-ss of an artist, can you p-ss the sauce?
[verse 3: hons]
i got eight bars to get it deeper than a graveyard
six-foot trench is how we make ours
this is real rap, hard hitting like a steel cap
kick [?] make you feel that
yeah, i poke at beats, f-cking k!lled that [?]
for the g.e. squad holding down the front line
i’ma take what’s mine, plus everything else
so lock up your daughters and hide your [?], i’m coming
[verse 4: sesta]
it’s like [?] night, you inviting ’em in
they [?]
my advice is “don’t let ’em win,” if they try, let ’em think
they can swim but they can’t, when they dive, let ’em sink
i’m on the brink [?]
wallet near the body, politician in the sink
your beat mellow, uh, your deep sh-t shallow
intellectual property probably stink ([?])
[verse 5: vents]
yeah, yeah, it’s golden era
till i’m dead fella, so get the f-ck in the body bag
you and your mates are half-naked, draped in an aussie flag
i’m not the type to be proud of my race
i’m proud of the way my right hand pounding your face
spark the l, vents ain’t well-raised [?] like train robbers
then disappear like rainforests
hate coppers with a p-ssion
rip up the mic in a proper [?] fashion, vents
[verse 6: pressure]
y’all know my name by now, i motivate a crowd
[?] sacred so they taking vows
but i’m a devil in disguise, peddle h-ll and all [?]
think there’ll be a golden era when i die
me and my apostles gonna have a feast of flies
breathing life into the dead, underground like jesus christ
now we the ones speaking tongues to the lost
tag my verse upon your church just to get my point across
[verse 7: trials]
i take the mic and donkey kong [?]
stick ’em in the ring, they both rappers, much different
alarm bells from h-ll when i escape
quick as the depression that sets in as i awake
hit the motherf-cker out of the shop (whoa)
beat-boxing to the sound of the cops (no)
i got this loaded pistol under my head
i can’t sleep in case josef fritzl under my bed
what the f-ck?
[commentary: briggs]
golden era mixtape two-thousand-and-twelve. pssh. that’s done. it’s done, it’s over. finished. pssh. get your hands off ’em. stop it! just stop it, he’s already dead!
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