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!