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Mine The Gap

by Mud Sun

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1.
Mine The Gap 04:20
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Mine the Gap Check the lyrical adventurism, travel writing with a sense of rhythm I'm as sensitive as vikings when inviting heads to listen To this abstract expressionist rap Like Jackson Pollock, When he spreads the pigment This is Baba Brinkman on the Underground in London, England Surrounded by the sound of competition causing constant friction A lot of guys probably tryin' to strive for the top positions in their offices And on this ride their eyes are mono vision Crawling on the bodies of the hottest vixens, probably thinkin' “Ima get my knob licked by all these women, once I've got the auspicious job description plus the cars and riches for the proper proposition” And I'm thinkin' "All these bankers and doctors and lawyers In training probably have a whole lot to offer you gorgeous And without the enormous wallet and other resources All I can offer is locked in my cortex Like the knowledge that this starving artist could rock your entire corpus Like wild horses that never let you settle for a child's portion But I ain't sittin' on the train stunned like James Blunt So I get off at the next stop to go try to record this Please mine the gap Please mine the gap Please don't disturb this man when he's trying to rap Please stand clear of the closing doors The closing doors determine my chosen course When I infiltrate the city like a Trojan horse The next stop is Marble Arch Please mine the gap Please mine the gap Please stand clear of the closing doors On this public transit labyrinth in London I'm standing on the subway crammed in With a bunch of other average companions When someone Islamic steps onto the carriage Clutching a lumpy package and everybody panics So we gotta stop the train and wait for the cops to come And confiscate his Double Club Sandwich I got my iPod on, watching, bumping Cut Chemist As they let him off with a warning And now he's got a suspended sentence And it's obvious to everybody now that he's innocent Like 99% of his religious and ethnic brethren But that never prevented these British citizens from letting their suspicions Get the better of their stiff upper lips And forgetting the principles of liberty and justice just this once To protect the parents of their kids And now I just missed my connection And I was on my way to meet up with this lady So that I could try to get some Feminine affection So instead I'm directionless Like the rest of my generation So instead of wastin' my free time chasin' a feline I spend the day at a demonstration at the train station Wavin' a Peace sign Please mine the gap Please mine the gap Please don't disturb this man when he's trying to rap Please stand clear of the closing doors The closing doors determine my chosen course When I infiltrate the city like a Trojan horse Please mine the gap Please mine the gap Please stand clear of the closing doors Underfoot, underground cultures cross-fertilize I stand under a dirty sign and watch bodies hurtle by Behind glass etched with the tags of graffitists Who see their works work the circuit of the circle line Bags are snatched Other bags hang under worker's eyes Bags full of blues, coffee and overtime We stare at each others shoes 'Cause shoes designate a person's tribe We've all bought the merchandise And when the train stops at Totteridge & Whetstone We all look up and watch a nervous guy get off his bench And get in line and step in Let's call him Kevin Blushing at the couple showing signs of affection Kevin sits and tries to hide his erection Behind a paperback entitled “Pride and Perfection” Hunched spine like a question, he wants to chat But people are unreachable across the gap The gap between the seats which allows passengers to read The Metro Without touching knees with the next bloke The gap between the twee with their legs closed And the pin striped white collar fiending to get coked Up in the gap between the office and the strip club Hopin' it ends in a cocktail and a dick rub It's the gap between the man that enters with a pimp strut And the lady reading “Heat” who wants a nip and tuck All citizens of the world just different hair-dos Step across the gap, bruv I dare you I double dare Yeah
2.
Fried Rice 05:04
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Fried Rice You know We're comin' to get ya We're comin' to get fried rice You know It'll never be the same Never be the same Oh no no You know We're comin' to get ya We're comin' to get fried rice You know It'll never be the same Never be the same Oh no All the rain dogs have come to shake off the street sound Rave off the rain fog let the fools steam out Some of them beach bound some run for West St. Heads full of spare change wallets with confetti Pockets with the reddy's that keep the city pretty The spare cash that beats the sea back and keeps the police busy 'Cause if it weren't for drunk disorder Brighton would be surely drowning in salt water and budget board ordered As it is We're the mecca for letting hair down Come ride the carousel and join the fair ground A powder shot of soma in this candy floss city Where they say the drinkers come to practice animosity And a teenager dressed as a man can watch titties and talk totty Where a crotch costs a grand, it's not for free It's in the hand of gangsters who are expanding their monopoly From the strip club to the hippie cafe across the street It's all part of the fun, the fun has become a commodity Like the square full of sun and beach front properties “Honestly, Neil, it's so bohemian” But that type of freedom comes at a costly premium And Simon says that it's a hard logic He gets less for forty hour weeks and selling narcotics From his front room to kids from London 'Cause Brighton's where you go not where you come from No Your paper wings are faded man You're flying too close to the sun Hey when spring comes early I'll be there The way the night weighs upon my shoulders Oh no no 'Cause we're coming to get ya We're comin' to get fried rice You know It'll never be the same Never be the same Oh No I said we're comin' to get ya We're comin' to get fried rice You know It'll never be the same Never be the same I was soaring over a cultural desert of false pleasures On a pair of stolen wings made from beeswax and vulture feathers I could barely hold them together When I came to a baron ocean and entered this oasis of Arizona weather Alternating with rains wetter than Amazonian rivers And I found shelter there with the local rebels Who entertained themselves by experimenting with their serotonin levels On pebble beaches Before descending into the nether regions of the hills Dressed in leather breaches, necking pills like Skittles In the steamiest dens of sexual deviants Ready to pledge allegiance to nothing less than pleasure seeking Yes, a festive ethos infected them every weekend And this bohemian mecca needed a network Of creative musicians, MCs and Djs for entertainment The kind of place where the nightlife is just as vital as the fire brigade Where a guy can ply his trade live on stage In front of a bunch of primates with deep fried brains And Hey! I can relate to the desire to change your mindstate every night Wake up with a migraine and the next day try it again So I stayed in Brighton for quiet some time Mostly because I like the way the locals play this rhyme game But I was never quite native to this tribal oasis Just an honorary adopted member So I left them to the onslaught of winter Confident that liberty is something they will not surrender You Know We're comin' to get ya We're comin' to get fried rice You know It'll never be the same Never be the same Oh no no We're comin' to get ya We're comin' to get fried rice You know It'll never be the same Never be the same Oh no I am here So I hear But I feel I'm not near Then I'm gone So so long You know time just stumbles on And once I leave I can breath Tuck some cards under my sleeve And then Baby when I get back I'll let you know
3.
How It Is 03:31
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How It Is That's how it was But this is how it is That's how it was But this is how it was That's how it was But this is how it is I making fat prophets crossing Biggie Smalls with Nostradamus My catastrophic predictions are postally apocalyptic But I'm not as cryptic I'm pathologically optimistic I had the option to stop giving a crap But I passed on it Like gastronomical blockage I got the laxative product I'm flowing with massive volume Like the plasma you got in your arteries You can't stop it without stopping your heartbeat I'm droppin' cacophonic harmonies on tracks often My sixteen bars get adapted to rap sonnets And passed off as neoclassical knowledge That's real masterful like a National Geographic But I can be irrational 'cause I'm dealing with mad problems That seem to surpass logic Like a workaholic ant cursin' and misanthropic I'm building a colony and callin' on any rapper with skill To follow me and try to match topics And patterns and rhythmic trash talkin' And then when I'm finished I party with the grasshoppers That's how it was But this is how it is That's how it was But this is how it was That's how it was But this is how it is That's how it was I write barefoot ballads that bite bullets and fight bullshit Treatin' the mic booth as my pulpit Preachin' towards the force of five full clips Sharper than implements from a clever guy's tool kit I also write songs Veloci-raps with teeth of razors That chase kids through the streets for days Without pause for thinking With claws that sink in And choruses that disenslave a man like Abraham Lincoln Me and Baba are Captain Haddock and TinTin The two tongue talker touring Toon Town In a turbo teleporter with the roof down Turning the tweaker to ten That's the only way we'll put our tunes out BMI and Virgin won't touch 'em Fuck 'em We'll keep slurring sentences like stoned Dutchmen Yelling like our microphones don't function We find fucking with photogs more fulfilling than punchin' 'em That's how it was But this is how it is That's how it was But this is how it was That's how it was Oh Really? How was it? Once upon a time not long ago You can find me gobbling mind boggling flows like an alcoholic Swallowing fine bottles of wine Now try and follow me close As I expose most Hip Hop guys as lobotomized hoaxes Whoop Whoop! It's the sound of the policemen Filling my town with impetulant screeching A man shouted “Free Palestine!” They tried to arrest him for treason But we rushed 'em and they hid for the rest of the evening Who's world is this? It's now a superfluous search for pedicurers and perfect services I work the verbal superlatives And if you listen and think this verse is sick Don't purchase it, just burn this disc Don't push me 'cause I'm close to the edge Sick of my generation vegetating on sofa beds I'm standing on broken bus stops Throwing stones at the Feds Chuck your hands up to catch what I said 'Cause it's over your head That's how it was But this is how it is That's how it was But this is how it was That's how it was But this is how it was That's how it was But this is how it was
4.
Tongue N Groove 04:25
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Tongue N Groove I jump from the swings And catch jerks on the way down Takin' my mentality back to the playground Act like I'm eight now Mr. Mischievous me Stark bullock naked Giggling meaninglessly “What's he doin' mummy?” Lickin' an ice lolly Diggin' the way folks consider me quite ugly Just try and stop me I bet you can't lady I'm pass caring strolling down the pier half crazy With security giving me the dark loom Like, “Boss, who's this dude bathing in the log flume Dabblin' off at the ticket office with the oddest expression Honestly, somebody should coverhis modesty Come! Arrest him for his infractions For being naked on a tourist attraction Come on Slinging words like some sort of assassin I can't catch all that he chattin' But it's something like..” Fuck an orderly fashion I'm audibly passionate Only the mortuary would force me to abdicate Until my breaths cut by the claws of the hands of fate I'll keep keep screaming my thoughts to the crashing waves like Fuck It! I've got nothing to prove Nothing you do can stop me sticking my tongue in the groove It's wonderous! The unpredictable diction delivered by Dizzy and Baba Brinkman We're singing Fuck It! I've got nothing to prove Nothing you do can stop me sticking my tongue in the groove It's wonderous! The unpredictable diction delivered by Dizzy and Baba Brinkman I heard a call of enticement from the guys on the golf course They wanted me to chase balls for 'em But I couldn't fall for it 'Cause I gotta have a colorful life Like licorice all-sorts That's why I don't roll with unoriginal cyborgs This is my course And I'm trying to make some serious moves I tried to pick up a chick with the clearest blue eyes When I was passing through Syracuse But she refused Said she could only be with the man she felt nearest to And I was on the move And this was very true So I bid farewell to this incredible pair of boobs And carried through I'm only taking risks that I'm prepared to lose And occasional relationships I cherish too But really, what's a free spirit to do? Every few days I find myself in a new place And I can't fit a woman in my suitcase So I do what it takes in my own foolish way And it usually makes the souffle taste a little more gourmet So you might here some stories if I tour your way You can call me a whore But it's your mistake 'Cause I'm just in it for enjoyment I don't live to fornicate That was a bar late AHHH! Fuck It! I've got nothing to prove Nothing you do can stop me sticking my tongue in the groove It's wonderous! The unpredictable diction delivered by Dizzy and Baba Brinkman I'm like Fuck It! I've got nothing to prove Nothing you do can stop me sticking my tongue in the groove It's wonderous! The unpredictable diction delivered by Dizzy and Baba Brinkman I am the kind of man that militant blokes punch But I won't change my name like Cinnamon Toast Crunch I'm sicker than most punks getting slapped with injunctions For attracting sumptuous lasses with Smashing Pumpkins Manic street preacher screaming at Speaker's Corner Like a panicked bee keeper with an avid speech disorder Dramatically more delirious I flow so furiously My hormone overdoses are known to disorder periods Of course we're serious! Deep thinking philosopher lyricists With commentary as gritty as Pete Doherty's liver is And we keep flippin' scripts 'cause we're both show stoppers With more balls than a couple of Harlem Globetrotters These bros drop flows hotter than animal fetuses Ending cannibal thesis' with Avril Lavigne disses This necrophiliac rap molested a brilliant classic I could serve you the head of Sylvia Plath on a silver platter and still be in fashion This is the line that Rowan is supposed to say But he's got nothin' 'ere cause he never says anything anyway Yo they call me Baba 'cause I'm babbling some bullshit To get your girlfriend gathering in to suckle on my massive dink Here's the Dizraeli line that's just funky But I'm crap at these accents from the west country Yo it's your host Dizraeli and I'm the verbose Canadian Cramming so many literary references into my dense shit that no ones quite getting my sentences and it doesn't quite fit into this shit... Fuck It! I've got nothing to prove Nothing you do can stop me sticking my tongue in the groove It's wonderous! The unpredictable diction delivered by Dizzy and Baba Brinkman We're singing Fuck it! Nothing you do can stop me I've got nothing to prove It's wonderous! Nothing you do can stop me sticking my tongue in the Unpredictable diction By Dizzy and Baba Brinkman We're singing Fuck it! I've got nothing to Stop me sticking my tongue in the Wonderous Unpredictable diction Delivered by Dizzy and Baba Dizzy Dizzy and Baba Dizzy Dizzy and Baba Brinkman We're singing Fuck It! I've got nothing to prove Nothing you do can stop me sticking my tongue in the groove It's wonderous! The unpredictable diction delivered by Dizzy and Baba Brinkman
5.
Louder 03:29
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Louder All the way from UK without an ID number To flip syntax with the impact of a funk drummer Spin back the revolution I hunt the hunter From the slums of London To where winter becomes summer An old liberator is neo-nazi I am not too happy To watch Mugabe Drainin' the coins in the peoples pockets Breakin' the pavement for a poxy prophet The stink's so heavy in the heart of where the bosses rot And it spreads over the globe and the world watches Democratic murder Bullets pepper ballot boxes Single party politics Are filing off his blocks It's reminiscent of the television horror The demolition of a country for a quick dollar Politician men are sipping from the city's coffers No amount of rhetoric can hide their dishonor But this globe trotter's not afraid To blow the xenophobe off it's Office with a phrase So call me the prose bomber The grenade pin puller Show stopper Got to chase the cock away Raise your flame Stake your claim Say your name out Louder! Louder! Louder! Louder! If you're in the crowd Stick your fists out Get Loud Louder! Louder! Louder! Louder! I've got these southern neighbors who've been causing problems lately They got people locked in cages on their property It's crazy Guantanamo Bay is basically a concentration camp Where the inmates are trapped in cages by the patriot act They're trying to get some information fast but it's unreliable And where the hell did a man's right to trial go? There's no defenses when your file is closed behind those green fences And there's no reason to even mention the Geneva Convention 'Cause your special classification doesn't seem to be listed as a need of protection So they can keep you in prison With chains on your feet And squeeze you into a fetal position Until they're finished with their whole Middle Eastern freedom mission If this doesn't breach the constitution then it needs revision But it's practically tradition Witch hunts, Macarthyism And abuse of power Their lives are whispers But they might start to listen if the truth is louder Raise your flame Stake your claim Say your name out Louder! Louder! Louder! Louder! If you're in the crowd Stick your fists out Get Loud Louder! Louder! Louder! Louder! How about this then Mr. President? The bubble that you're livin' in Is about to blow like glycerin And you tried to tie my hands But I unfettered them I know the lie of the land Now I'm layin' down the evidence Yeah it's Mud Sun, lyrical gadflies Two voices of dissent Exposing mad lies left and right Unmasking poisonous men We live in a gap full of landmines Where most political stories are spin But the louder we speak truth to power The sooner this bullshit is going to end Raise your flame Stake your claim Say your name out Louder! Louder! Louder! Louder! If you're in the crowd Stick your fists out Get Loud Louder! Louder! Louder! Louder!

about

Baba Brinkman & MC Dizraeli team up to create uptempo intercontinental hip-hop of the first order.

Exclaim Magazine Album Review:
"The beginning of a strong voice in revolutionary rap music."
exclaim.ca/Reviews/HipHop/mud_sun-mud_sun

credits

released February 15, 2008

Produced by Tom Caruana and Soulful Spider
Engineered, Mixed, and Mastered by Lin Gardiner
Cover Art by Bryan Talbot

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Baba Brinkman New York, New York

Canadian hip-hop with an intellectual bent, nothing but sexy beats and sumptuous brain food.

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