Wsup

[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!