Golden

by Yung Pacemaker

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01:11
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03:49
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01:05
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02:18
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04:49
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06:36

credits

released May 5, 2015

Produced and engineered by Chris Yeterian and Mitch Schneider

Mixed by Chris Yeterian

Mastered by Bill Henderson at Azimuth Mastering

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Yung Pacemaker Hartford, Connecticut

tothefuture.

LBDC // CWY

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Track Name: Hunting Party
Hunting Party

The teams dressed in all black/ bloody Supreme hoodies and George Bush masks/
"cause money's all I need" is the message that we got from rap/ on the run
Gunning for 52 million/
to spread amongst the rest of our hungry generation/ but schools pile on the pills to help increase our patience/
and doctors pile on the bills for worthless medication/
and all our sights aimed at's a measly 52 million?/
It is/
and I promise it's pragmatic/
giving it to kids who can't afford and education/
and these kids are buying in to major debt from education/ and the banks are raking in some billions from education/ we'll give it away/and of course it's tax free/ cause who else is gonna try and help the future of our nation/
and all we're gonna take is 52 million/
(who's got that kind of money?) oh you don't know man?/ just ask the Taliban/
that's how much they were given by the Bush administration/
I'm trying to bring these facts all they way to the streets/ giving Crack addicts/ C4 packets/ and Flak Jackets/ crackin' crooked cops in the face with bad minton rackets/
rapping and we're not even bad at it/
so much so that it sounds like we're back at it/
but this is probably the first time/ the little boys dollar club has been on your mind/ but not mine/
I've been sitting on this for months/
and I've been itching to show it to all the rest of you punks/
while they're out on the Yachts mixing drinks and having fun/ we'll creep in the back door with blades and silenced guns/
loaded clips with hollow tips and you better believe we'll come/
all we want is 52 million/
and we're taking every penny from Kennedy vacation funds
Track Name: Obsidian
OBSIDIAN

Two thousand sixteen and they want to be me now/
Roll up to the party in A.P.C. Chinos/
With bottles and bottles of San pelligrino/
I only sip that and a double ristretto/
Your boy's on the rocks like I'm Henri Rosseau/
I'm handsome and cunning like Nicholas Reo/
Bought too much supreme but I get it for free now/

Well,
Not yet but anyways I won't stop/
A C A B no friend to no cop/
Quick to dish tickets and even quicker to lock up/
Quick to crack kids and even quicker to pull Glocks/

Couldn't find a label when I wanted some help/
Tried to get it Golden got it put on a shelf/
Never asked for money I just earned it myself/
Eff Eff a kickstarter fund the record yourself/

That's why I'm/
Out here pinching pennies like I'm lavish Mitch/
It's lavish Mitch/
And you don't know the half of it/
I'll pay you with some chips and dip/
I'm looking for a sponsorship/
To keep on spittin' triplets/
For little kids/
Whose cigarettes/
Are burning fingertips/
Outside a house show/
stage dive off the kick drum/

fun in a bloody/
Givenchy hoodie/
Rottweiler Tiscci/
bangover queasy/
deals with A.P.C. like I wanna be Yeezy/ taught me /
Jesus bought me/
Bumpin' Watch The Throne like
Track Name: 20 Grams
20 Grams

BABY ANYTIME YOU NEED IT YOU KNOW I GOT 20 GRAMS/
FILTERS ON THE COUNTER AND THE KETTLES IN MY HANDS/ COFFEE GAME OKONKWO EATIN' BEANS GETTIN YAMS/ CAFFEINE IN YOUR SYSTEM GOT THE JITTERS GO AND DANCE/
I got coffee stains on everything I love/
got the choppas in the closet cause I'm tryin' to Pusha Ton/
stuffin' little brown bags in the backpack/
With 12 oz packs in the napsack/
It's usually jam packed/
With coffee and greenbacks/
Nothin' I don't lack/
Even a soundtrack/
I know jokes abound/
but I ain't horsing around/
this afternoon I'll move 40 pounds/
and you know that ain't pre ground/ yeah I said 40 pounds/ and that ain't boasting/
cause and while I'm roasting/
I got goons unloading/
sacks of raw/
product from Africa/
green from GUAT a Mala/
International trafficker/
(Waaaap)
it's a multi continental network/
of the world's largest export/
I'll prove myself an expert/
picking up notes of earth/
that you thought was a joke "it's dirt"/
observed only on a highly developed palate/
suns gone eclipsing crappy rappers with malice/
that means my tongue game royalty belongs in a palace/
simultaneously pickin' up subtleties/ and slappin' clown rappers crowns faster than I spit bars or cups of Green Mountain keurig brewed with dirty water/

I know y'all feeling that/
cause if you heard that/
you heard that/
My flow's on tap/
like it's cold brew/
Putting science to good use/
that nitro infused/
bubbling but it's smooth/
made in a toddy or tower/
quick to devour/
a cold brew in the shower/
pouring out shots of concentrate/
Knock em both back eyes start to dilate/
Stimulate/
Pulsate/
Accelerate/
permeate my brain/
As I fixate on a brisk 6/8
WHOO) BABY ANYTIME YOU NEED IT YOU KNOW I GOT 20 GRAMS/ CHEMEX ON THE COUNTER AND THE FILTERS IN MY HAND/ COFFEE GAME ESCOBAR I DO NOT GIVE A DAMN/ CAFFEINE IN YOUR SYSTEM WE'RE ALL WINNERS IN MY CAMP/
I always got a grinder and a fish scale/
Apple fritters and a couple fly females/
And a timer pay attention to the details/
Getting zooted off espresso never pale ales/
But the whole team's tryin' to get zipped/
Watch your mug cause Cuda will chug half of it/
and even when my hand was split/ I only put cold brew in the morphine drip
Always out on my hustle/
I'm brewing or doing vocals/
You gotta preheat your vessel/
With water left in your kettle/
That concentrated ristretto/
That black as New England Metal/
I'm always looking for "better"
I'm never going to settle/
Just stomp it out like a pedal/
I'm always rocking raw denim/
Never sweats/
Track Name: Albino (ft. Cuda Cooder & Don Yayo)
Albino


Pace:

Show up in a Chevy Impala/ 5 thousand dolla/
Rick Owens Bomba/
that I got from my momma/ for Christmas/ the missus/ is missing/ her Christmas gift/
on her big wish list/
so I guess that I'll get/ her a madewell vest/ with these rap game checks/
or something/
she said you know pacemaker/
it's funny cause I really only like white rappers/
And I said baaby/
you know I'm not an MC/
and I can't free style/
but the style are tips are free/
all you really got to do is study pictures of me/ and besides/
who else would you listen too?/
a bunch of those other goons?/
they don't even speak the truth/
and they you do then shoot/
I guess that means that I'm a gangster too/ no/

setting paces Doin' laps/
around the track/
I'm talking about raps/
running in circles with my lyrACS/

Wrote the whole album sober/
so these lines are more potent/
so my rhymes are more focused/
And no I don't smoke but my style's still dopest/
only kid in grey slacks and the black Nike Roche's/
on the toes/
how it goes/
but I want you to know/
when I rap about clothes/
man it's all trivial/
don't matter/
just a hobby/
or a habit at this point/
like sparking a tight joint/
but you don't really need it right?/
alright just keep telling yourself that/ and maybe you'll know that/
who influences you/
probably shouldn't be Wayne/
that kids gayer than Dwayne/
when he's look in' at the Rock's Johnson

Cuda:

Cuda Cooder in this mooda fooda/
nick told me not cuss I said fucker what the fooda/
saw your girlfriend and I smacked her in the boota/
kissed her on the mouth and I didn't knew her/

Gettin' tipsy sippin' raccoon blood/ I ain't saying I'm thug/
but I'll leave you slumped on the rug/
Get laid from time to time/
Im still a man dime/
Still doing crimes/
Still writing dope ass lines/
Drunk off simba/
Drunk off love/
Late for dinner ya call me young thug/
Call me a young man/ with this krink in my hand/
I love you Uncle Sam/


boy I fucked yo bitch and she claim she don't know me now/
I SWED everyday and I know it don't slow me down/
sky high on some Simba and that good kush/
cocaine rich like I'm mother fucking George bush/

Damn shawty heard that your a nympho/
Can I get your info/
I can be your pimp yo/
See her in a crop top/
Girl have you seen my argyle socks/
Shawty playing with my own cock/
In this drop top/
I got two now/
Which one should I choose now/
Try and guess like Blues Clues/
Wow
No food just espresso for breakfast/
Like Antwon, y'all grinding for Deathwish

Pace:

Or Bronson/
keep a .45 tucked in the wasteband/
Swigging single origins while I'm rocking to Hot Damn/
No one like me in Connecticut grassland/
Everything is scarred like we're talking my right hand/
Pun on sacred/
Cuda's faded/
Mitch is basted/
Our fame's belated/
I only rhyme with my brothers/
I don't cuss so I know your moms love us/
I don't mess with verdé devils lettuce/
but I still spit on cops like I'm mister Paul Ference/
fast cars fast women and fast food/ the latter cause I spent all my money on the first two/
the laughter cause I saved all my stupid lines for verse two/
oh my bad/ is it verse three?/ probably/Still mé/ rhyme scheme/ cycle complete/
AND I STILL ROCK MY KAHKIS WITH A CUFF AND A CREASE

Yayo:

Put your lips around my brain/
and talk to me/

I'll leave some knowledge on your skin/
because the mood i'm in/
can't be satisfied/
and if you didn't want that spunk/
you should have hopped up off this junk/
girl I need to know it's love
Track Name: Mission
GOLDEN
Track Name: A Phrygian Inclination (ft. Walrus)
A Phrygian Inclination

Pace:

Nobody wants to hear you rhyme about how big your purse is/
or militant verses/
of puttin' rappers in hearses/
spraying shots and abundant curses/
Stuff your mouth with soap and go get the nurses/
linguistic filler vulgarity/
content with no content in those obscenities/ but anyways/
I got two piano men and I won't stop until I got a third/
a feature from Jason Beck or Butler/ but I heard one of them got murdered/
back in Canada/
found frozen in the cold/ killed by chilly/
so I guess I gotta fly to France/ and settle for Gonzo on the keys makin' ladies dance/
The next Einstein will write rhymes and yea I think that's true/
Sad musical genius man I think that's either you/ or Kanye/
they all say/
the 808's made/
my heartbreak/
cause now everybody uses those/ sounds like firing some Major Lazers/
I dip low/ duck/
man I still can't get down with techno/
nobody knows a MacBook ain't an instrument/
you can ask Fugazi/
if that was bossy/
I'm sorry/
just pardon me/
Stockholm and they lied to me/
just like Patty Hearst honestly/
my manners are better than this/
I'm trying to attract the type of folks that'll pay kids to spit/
so my momma don't gotta worry about how she'll live/
laid back getting checks from her oldest kid/
Pacemaker trick/
and I did all the percussion/ if you don't like my rhymes you still can't knock the production/

and oh yea Chilly/
I almost forgot to mention/
You should pay attention/
To this next chord progression


Walrus:

Sag my pants but I ain't a fool/
They Spend their money on nothing cool/
I got a crocodile in my swimming pool/
Got a winning complex and I hate to lose/
I love to win/
And if you ain't a lady then/
you can step off my land/
Or get rocked in the face with a tattooed hand/
I shouldn't have to say/
Get yo bitch ass out the way/
It's just me and fuckin' Pace/
Tryin' to weave between the snakes/
And 5-0 on the corner/
Like to see me a goner/
Keep a .45 in the wasteband/
man you wouldn't wanna/
try a fucker with a finger on the trigger/
Uh/
Talk a lot of shit but you keep your mouth shut/
When you see me sippin Hennessy in the strip club/
Tough guy but I heard that you swallow the nut/
Quick to rub it out like a parliament butt/
Fuck it/
Rappers keep talking about millions and shit/
Got enough wealth just look at my wrist/
My rhymes stay hotter than some grilled catfish/
So when it comes to rappin man I ain't goin quit/
I ain't goin stop till it makes me rich/
Like Bon Jovi's bitch/
And Billy Ray's kids/
18karat filter on me like I'm lavish Mitch/
Used to be a hard life but now it's golden bitch/
Track Name: Century Custom
WORST VERSE //

Grew up on songs and John/
Wayne was a nazi/
bumpin' millions of dead cops/
as we hop in Cuda's M series and take off/
to cruise around the block
I unlock the drop top/
and the wind picks up/
ruffling the fringed bottom of her little crop top/
and we're on our way/
on down to the park/
It's a beautiful day
And it's summer so there's always honeys buzzin round the spot/ like bees/
and they like me/ I think? they like me/ I pay their lawyer fees/
judge asked if they were guilty/
said "trick I might be"/
nose rings say "bite me"/
and I want to/
these girls look so cool/
rockin' septum piercings but don't take no bull/
They need a Yung Pacemaker like their hearts is stopped/
I rock a stupid haircut my head looks like a mop/
it's bald all around and I let the top flop/
it's either that or throw a box logo up top/
and yea spending money on a hat/
is foolish I know/
but I save enough cash passin' on theatrics/ club hits/ and backflips for major labels/
like I don't need the rap money/
I got better stable ways of putting bread up on the table/
climbin' stacks/ and I'm makin' em too/
while your friends are wastin' time getting faded with you/
and you're just not cool/
the tank tops in the winter showin' bad tattoos/
and yea we get big manly man "no homo" dude/
but your still kinda more of a fag than Nick Bentley's dad/
and that's saying a lot/
cause I hate that dude more than Stray hates cops/
copped some new come ups/ Givenchy over Louis V/
and they know I can't afford it so they just give it to me/ for free/ it's easy/ to be me/ spinning lyrical tornados a little more than breezy/ say you're flying high but I'm rapping a whirlwind/
clean mind sending words that will put your jet in a tailspin/
better grab a chute cause you're gonna be bailin'/
Out here pushing envelopes like ima U.S. mailmen/
going postal/
and I do hope you know I wrote/ every verse in this whole/
mixtape in a work week/
so I guess in a round about way you could say/
I got paid to rap before I even got paid to rap/
and while you wrap your mind around that last line/
I'll continue by telling you mine/
was occupied on the daily grind/
pressed for time/
Hungry and no sleep combined/
and I still slapped down material twice as good as what y'all usually hearin'/
and that's not even boastful/
that's just an anecdote/
that goes to show/ or say/ that rappers today/
are careless about what they put out/
seemingly only concerned with "if she puts out"/
or getting drunk of of stout/
giving into a bout/
with narcissism and drunkeness/
are y'all hearing this?/
It doesn't seem like it/
and I'm not convinced you aren't impressed/
with fraudulent lines of pieces and dimes/
overly simplified minds/
"making mine" and doin' time/
in the back of your minds/
it's cool to do time/
like a convict/
convicted in wasted time/
and not putting my own mind to good use/
using resources as a commodity/
on the commode flushing creativity and originality/
Track Name: Vox Humana / Vox Celeste
Vox Humana / Vox Celeste

Palm trees/
Flat broke disease/
And La Mirada has got me on my knees/
Now I sure ain't the truest of true/
But/
But every different day a different side of you

La Mirada my little merci/
How come you're the only one I let hurt me/
I want to be the last man to ever grace your lips/
I want my face to feel the heat up off your pretty hips/
I want to get my teeth caught up in your crucifix/
Betwixt your restful breasts/

But When distance is an issue/
there's nothing I do but miss you/
And think about how I wish you/
Were home in my bed/
But your only home's in my head/
And my heart is just pledged/
To the thought of you/
Or maybe even to the thought of us two/
But it wouldn't work and you knew/
So communication withdrew/
Feelings first to subdue/
And then you bid me adieu/
I wrote about you/
and then I tore out the pages/ automated exchanges/
makes us not lovers but feigners/
we are only strangers/
The only time we talk it's on the phone/
but she's right here and wants me to take her home/
so I guess she doesn't know/
that this young padawan's a vagabond/
and I'm not messing with these hoes/
and I'm not playing with this flow/ and I'm not sippin' on patron/
And you better believe I'm going home/
And when I do I'll be alone/

I'm not eating/
It's hard dealing with these four feelings/
One: stomach grumbling like I devoured a foul luncheon/
Two: every four minutes's when I think of you/
Three: wishing different it could be/
Four: it was never GOOD, and it hasn't been/
So why are you the only one I think of then?/
No matter what I'm being prematurely forced to think of something clever for the last word/
But I'm just blowing hot air like the Hindenburg/
Grab my jacket, walk it off
Get lost in the cold, and stranded/
On an ice. Berg
Track Name: Isreal
ISRAEL // Red sweater beat

Sun sinks into the evergreens/
Moonlight illuminates my face inhaling nicotine/
Chase it with the last couple drops from my canteen/
Soak a rag in kerosene/
Hunting party's waving lit torches/
Growing up in the forest /made a savage out of man/
so I creep into her den/
slash her throat and steal her babies/ you'll remember me for this/
praised in the mouths of Connecticut farmers/
fawned over by every single one of their daughters/
But I'm not even messing with em/
I'm only interested/ in a ride or die type chick/
Some Bonnie Clyde type shit/
A girl more forceful than a 30/06
Who carries more weight than two tons of red bricks/
A woman who'll hold my weapon/
But fire back real quick/
More bite than citric/
And for her I fashioned a cloak/
from the pelt from that wolf/
Cause my baby only wears furs/
And she says the bloodier the better/
I don't know nobody fresher/
And she thinks I look best with bullet holes in my sweater/

Four snares playing paradidles and murderous rhythms/ when we ride/
Live free or die/
Forget a piece we're out to take the entire pie/
Crush your allies/
Self aggrandize/
Whatever/
Saying "never better"/
While pigs raid my cellar/
And my neighbors wonder why I'm grabbing for irons like I am Tiger Woods/
Come here and take this land
Man I wish a tiger would/
Militia run through and torch ya whole tiger hood/

That rip through the thick dark cloud/
Gunpowder/
Black as my heart/
Black as these murderous thoughts/
That creep though the dark/
And solidify as my rifle barks/
Setting fire to the Union Jack/
Taking cracks at lobster backs/
Quick to duck/
Hit the deck/
Shots spraying over head/
Shrapnel hit their target/
Make a martyr/
leave a soldier dead/
Caught one in the jugular/
Lead rip though ya neck/

(Pulled out my beretta)

And at point blank range that shot will spin you around/ dick/
shoulder full of pellets as you fall the ground/ pick/
up another weapon loaded rifles abound/
Lobbing shots off as shots rock/
And rip through your crew/
Troop Cut down in twos/
With blood splatter and brain matter on the heel of your boots/
I can deal death with my saber too/
Savage as a saber tooth/
I turned your British brothers to bodies my crew is gonna loot/

Yea/

First Thirteen over everything/
I'll split the spleen of any man that comes between/
My native country thee/
Land of the noble free/
Whose name I love/
Celebrate with rum/
And a fat Cuban/
Out here I'm a legend like Rick Rubin/
Young Americans and no one thought we could do it/
So bring your empires like mountains we're here to move em/



I ain't sure if God's by my side/
But I know that Britain wants me either dead or alive/
And I have a feeling hell will have me if God's good graces I defy/
Baby's letters and clenched rosaries while I ride/
And regardless in spite of all this I'm not dying tonight/

And I'll be damned if I let any King take that from me/
Take the stillness out back and put it on it's shaking knees/
Put a bullet in my head if in this land I won't be free/
Leave the bowing to the saints I'll go die on my feet/
Track Name: Morning
Muther/
Thank you/
I need you to know that I don't blame you/
And for the rest/
You did your best/
I've never thought anything less/
Your actions were always what you thought was right/
Took a ring and signed on to a life/
Of fear and threats/
Every other drunken night/
Of beer and debts/
Pain and petty brainless fights/
It's just what we get/
But in the early morning light/
It's all alright/
Cause an "I don't remember" works just as well as an apology/
And to the kids/
Talking to them we just won't bother see/
Please/
Please don't go back to that/


Misguided but you did it for us/
If no one else I know you I could trust/
You stuck it out/
Cause you thought it was best for your children/
We never questioned your intentions/
But please/
Please don't go back to that/
Angels don't lie with rats/
They don't make their beds in the midst of combat/
How can you rest in that?/
I'm exhausted/

I love you/

And that's just not an option to go back to/
I'm not sure I could go through/
Seeing him rip into the drive on a Harley/
Inebriated violent & angry/
Stumble to the door as your family flees/
Breath reeks of greasy biker dick and whiskey/
Enter the house only home out of cruelty/
Home

terrorizing my beautiful mother/
Fists clenched screaming as he stumbles closer/
bash his brains in like he tried to do to my kid brother/
but no no. See I'd charge right into him/ closing up space/
Jam my blade between his ribs and then I'd spit in his face/
(Pause)
but I'm not going to/
cause everyone that knows him knows he sure as hell ain't worth the jail time/
and he's already tried to ruin too many years of mine/
but what the hell is that anyways?/ why do so many young men in my generation fantasize about killing their own fathers/
Have they earned it?/
Do they deserve it?/
Do we just lash out when our world flips?/
Cause I'd rather bleed out in a ditch/ than see your face again you piece of rat (ah)/
And if you end up hearing this/
the only thing I have to say/
is don't you ever think about coming near my family/
I started cutting you off years ago and you were just too foolish and self absorbed to see/
and now I'm finally in a position to sever every single tie/
no father of mine/
and God knows you aren't a man/ cause men don't spend their nights trying to fight women and children/ you don't have the right to ever utter my name again/
you are dead to me/
and for everyone else's sake I hope the alcohol poisoning kills you way sooner than later/