Wsup

Lyrics

[Interlude: 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 motherfucking problem, that's what you get Hahaha [Verse 1: Suffa] Cheah 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 (Uh-oh) And you hear footsteps down the hallway thunderin' We got Trials [?] You can't find a better man, just go ask Eddie Vedder [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 fuck it is you asking for Mongrel, carnivore in a banana store Chewing on the carcass of an artist, can you pass 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-hittin' like a Steel Cap Kick [?] make you feel that Yeah, I poke at beats, fucking killed 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 invited 'em in They [?] bison [?] crushin' the chin My advice is "Don't let 'em win," if they try, let 'em think They can swim when they can't, when they dive, let 'em sink I'm on the brink, uh, rotten in the [?], uh Wallet near the body, politician in the sink Your beat mellow, uh, your deep shit shallow Intellectual property probably stink ([?]) [Verse 5: Vents] Yeah, yeah, it's Golden Era till I'm dead fella So get the fuck in the body bag (Come on) You and your mates is 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 pound in your face Spark the L, Vents ain't well, raise hell Like train robbers (Ha) that disappear like rainforests Hate coppers with a passion Rip up the mic in a proper type fashion, Vents [Verse 6: Pressure, Trials] Y'all know my name by now, I motivate a crowd [?] sacred so they taking vows But I'm a devil in disguise, peddle Hell 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 (Yeah) [Verse 7: Trials] I take the mic and Donkey Kong [?] Stick 'em in the ring, they both rappers, much different Alarm bells from Hell when I escape Quick as the depression that sets in as I awake Hit the motherfucker out of the shop (Woah) Beat-boxing to the sound of the cops (No) I got this loaded pistol under my head (Ha, bam, bam, bam) I can't sleep in case of Josef Fritzl under my bed What the fuck? [Commentary: Briggs] Golden Era Mixtape 2012 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!