[Transcription in Progress. Please don't edit]
[Hosts 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**ing 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 [?] confuse 'em
Like how there's mixtapes on CD, abuse 'em
Like stepdads drunk and just made redundant
And footsteps down your hallway thundering
[?]
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 [?] Golden cliche
[?] phone it in
[?] can't afford
[?] whatever the f** it is you askin' for
Mongrel, can't avoid the banana store
[?] can you pa** the sauce?
[Verse 3: Hons]
I got eight bars to get it deeper than a graveyard
[?] is how we make ours
[?]
[?] feel that
[?]
[?] front line
I'ma take what's mine, plus everything else
So lock up your daughters and [?]
[Verse 4: Sesta]
It's like [?]
[?]
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 [?]
[?], politician in the sink
Your beat mellow, uh, your deep sh** shallow
Intellectual property probably stink ([?])
[Verse 5: Vents]
Yeah, yeah, it's Golden Era
Till I'm dead fella, so get the f** 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 [?] train robbers
Then disappear like rainforests
Hate coppers with a pa**ion
Rip up the mic [?], Vents
[Verse 6: Pressure]
Y'all know my name by now, I motivate a crowd
[?] taking vows
[?]
[?] 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: Trails]
I take the mic and Donkey Kong [?]
[?] 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 motherf**er 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 incase Josef Fritzl under my bed
What the f**?
[Hosts 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!