a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

golden era records - posse cut (2013 golden era records cypher) lyrics

[host commentary: vents (trials)]
yeah, yeah, w-ssup trials (coolin’) coolin’? (coolin’) next up we got the whole crew on the one song with the newest member of the team, (k21.) w-ssup man, welcome aboard. we gon’ do it like this one time for mind. in the house: golden era!

[verse 1: briggs]
not even jesus crossed the g.e. squad
sacrifice ma’f-ckers to appease the gods
couple brothers on the screen, not a scene from cops
get punched in your face when the peace is off: lebron
carry the heat, gimme a beat that knocks
embarr-ssing defeat, in the street with crocs
i’m off everything, that’s no weed or grog
i’m not dmx (what?!), i’ll feed your dogs
you’re not fit to kick the tires on my ride, but
here’s the keys, now park it when i arrive
it’s a shake down like parkinson’s on the mind
i’ma break down the barriers when i’m inside
smack the actor [?] on sight
just a matter of fact, just a matter of time
maybe better than him, you’re not better than i
better batten the hatch ‘fore i batter your eyes

[scratches: adfu]
“ask your friends who’s the illest
who’s—who’s—who’s—who’s the illest
ask your friends who’s the—who’s the illest”
“who—who the illest? we all know the answer to that”

[verse 2: vents]
yo
i’ve been living in the circus with clowns in the fast-food service
i’m ’bout to drop from my last two burgers
every man alive on the earth need a purpose
’cause without that we hopeless, concerned with that
which lack depth, that which lack virtue
the plastic, the cosmetic, that which’a hurt you
that which you turn to in times of need
to forget about the fact we designed to bleed
blow weed from the seeds in the sheep manure
ask yourself, “what’s the reason you breathin’ for?”
we both the same, no time for emotional pain
soak the plant in disposable flame
i’m like an animal that travel on the toughest terrain
f-cking insane is what i became, nuttin’ to gain
but the lot and nuttin’ to lose but the plot
golden era in the place, getting loose in the spot, what?

[scratches: dj reflux]
“ask your friends who’s the illest”
“who the illest? we all know the answer to that”

[verse 3: trials]
hey
it’s the golden era, you couldn’t fold a feather
tough guy, i’ll punch you in the face when my shoulder’s better
that’s never, yet i still burn the sucker down to ashes
before you pour your first water buckets out ([?])
we are cl-ssic like newman in jur-ssic
running back to his jeep with his face full of acid
two-thousand-three when the step-daddy entered (h-llo)
top on my bucket list is ‘met larry emdur’ (h-llo)
storm boy drunk off that pelican blood
screaming “amitriptyline’s a f-ckin’ h-ll of a drug”
i’m gettin’ live in the foyer, trials the destroyer
said “it’s all good” like i’m heisenburg’s lawyer
yo, yeah, they want that h-ll level impact?
my rhymes are heavyweight like putting bricks in the bin bag
trigger, gumby even catching the ball
third rapper on the track, but least fashionable, woah

[verse 4: hons]
so it’s two-thousand-thirteen, unlucky for some
unless you run with golden era then you doubling up
you see, the rap game change, you get punished for your laziness
when album cycles life’s too short like warwick davis’
never here to make a mint (no)
sh-t, the only one i prolly see is on my pillow when i go vacationin’
oar’s been patient, over ten years into rap
long time comin’ like you double strapped the jimmy hat
gimme that beat, let me get in the mood
i scribble down some dumb sh-t like a drunk tattoo
see we got reflux and adfu, dj debris
add seven deadly sins, one for each mc
golden era motherf-cker, we the cream of the crop
but x and t smoked past so i’ma finish it off
now that’s cl-ssic, you wanna bring it with that rap sh-t?
man, you goin’ down like the hat went backwards

[verse 5: sesta]
it goes one for the money, n0body for the love it
and your only friend want a cut of it, man
you’re not the problem, just a part of it and
it’s very obvious like making love for the f-ck of it
they say that imitation greatest form of flattery
but actually it’s not (no?), i’m just taking the p-ss
but when i’m seventy i bet i’m living all my dreams:
in the day getting faded playin’ fallout 3
see, i’m here to show you suck on the beats
and deconstruct your f-cking beliefs
before i’m leavin’ i’ll be needin’ to be teachin’ the kids
that religion not bad, but belief in it is, uh
golden era, give you the golden shower
you cower, it’s how you’re dealing with real power
turn the tower of babel to rubble f-ckin’ with me
see ya, anybody is never trouble to me, f-ck ’em

[scratches: dj debris]
“ask your friends who’s—who’s—who’s the illest
ask your friends who’s—who’s the illest
who’s the—who’s the—who’s the—who’s the illest”

[verse 6: pressure]
you’re rollin’ with the most dangerous squad
with the mic and turntable on lock
’cause man, we lacin’ our creations like there’s traces of rock
if i had a day for every hater that tried takin’ my spot
i’d have more time on my hands than the face of a clock
golden era’s like a rush to the brain, a runaway train
we cut the breaks, run astray, hunger and pain
don’t f-ck with the game if you too afraid of touchin’ the flame
24 carat pure, sucker, what’s in a name?
if heaven is a place on this earth then i been on the wrong
highway to h-ll and [?] the stage is my church
only thing they hold sacred’s what i say in a verse
until suffa gets ’em naked as the day of my birth
i make it home, another wonder unravels
debris surfin’ p-rn channels, suffa’s huntin’ for samples
i got more kids tying me down than f-cking gulliver’s travels
so tie it up, i put my nuts in a landfill

[verse 7: suffa]
check, ayy
tell vents, “take the backpack off”
it’s time to smack these wack rappers’ snapbacks off
you better ba—back off, j-ck–ff (f-ck off), i’m a jack of
all trades and when i blaze i crack black off
the vinyl, find all the platinum hidden under it
god is in the building, spitting from the mothership
hovering and k!lling all these bothersome civilians
when we drop in from the ceiling, man, they’re hollering and squealing (come on)
hilltop hoods for the children like ol’ dirty at the grammy’s
haters take a seat, see i prefer that they can’t stand me
see we show ’em sk!ll, son
don’t get your nose outta joint like owen wilson
go at the hill’s, son, i laugh at ya
i got lines like debris in the bathrooms at the aria’s
we wacky, yes, we said it, so it’s never said and done
now let me get it to the newest g.e. member, 21

[verse 8: k21]
freshest to death, son, and [?] until the record’s spun
let ’em run from these infected lungs and a propeller tongue
wish ’em the best of luck before i shred ’em up
’cause in a second i send ’em nuts, so you better be ready when i come
and wreck the function, i’m a beast with a curse
next to bless the drum, yet another sheep in the herd
demon since birth, speaking, i’m thirty-three-and-a-third
the evilest, don’t believe this? then repeat in reverse
i got venom like a katipo, deadlier than krokodil
smash a show, never will i stop until i top the bill
mister mussolini’s here to x ’em with the tantrum
an ugly motherf-cker, but abuela said he handsome
not rampant on the b-ssline, owe it to the late nights
call the kid, sinatra, how i put your dreams away right
from daylight, they try take my throne
but we’re the golden era, there’s no better place like home
and we out

[host commentary: vents (trials)]
you know what the f-ck this is (go on, tell ’em). yeah, that’s it ladies and gents for the golden era mixtape two-thousand-and-thirteen. we’ll be back next year. thanks for rocking with us. we hope you had fun, i had a lot of fun. big shoutouts to jaytee for putting this whole thing together. shoutouts to suffa. shoutouts to ben martin down at the golden era offices. shoutouts to unity sound & visual for all their hard work. shoutouts to dj debris takeaway studios. shoutouts to trials on the floor ([?]!) {laughs} my name is vents, peace!

[commentary: decisive]
yo, what’s up? my name is decisive, transmitting live from canada. freezing canada! where it’s always cold and freezing. australians wouldn’t know anything about that because it’s always warm in australia. and don’t talk to me about “oh, it’s our winter now, so it’s kind of cold.” no. i don’t know why you guys sell sweaters or hooded sweatshirts. what you call winter, we call summer. i don’t know why i’m talking about weather. i should be talking about the golden era records mixtape. i should be talking about the hilltop hoods. i should be talking about the funkoars. i should be talking about vents, briggs and k21. that’s what i should be doing. but i won’t because i’m against the grain, like hip-hop. that’s the noise i make on hip-hop songs because being against the grain means you have your own noise and mine is-. it’s like a dying hobo being woken up as he’s dying. golden era, doing it big for 2013, y’all. decisive out!

- golden era records lyrics

Random Lyrics

HOT LYRICS