The Speed​-​Bump Remixes

by Mr. Day Job

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about

"The music industry and new media have become offensively incestuous and corny. We need to define a new underground completely removed from the machine. I have never been to a studio. I recorded this EP in my Brooklyn bedroom using only a laptop, a Plantronics headset, and a freeware four-track recorder program developed in 1996 (which, coincidentally, was also one of the greatest years in terms of hip-hop's maturation and contribution to culture). This EP is pure and organic; no marketing or tricknology. I don't want any money. I don't want any accolades. This is for me, and for the culture. Share it if you feel it and are so inclined. Bless."

- Mr. Day Job

credits

released June 17, 2012

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Track Name: Grand Puba feat. Mr. Day Job & @SadatX - Play It Cool (Marcy Ave. Remix)
LYRICS:
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tanner than a kikuyu, dark like zulu, 'omar from the wire' black / no tan lines / whiskey in my belly, ate a bean pie to pad that shit / the sun got me sweating bullets / I ain't mad it / do the right thing type hot in this b*tch / still mad they killed radio raheem & sh*t / riding slow thru marcy just to floss my fixie / bright aquamarine green / you cant miss me / just lined my beard up / turned a beer up / im married to brooklyn ni**a / no pre-nup / holla at my babalawo / on some african flow / my crystals channeling ochún & chango / bruvaman fonky, yes indeed / my crib smell like frankencense, myrhh, & weed / grillin on the stoop, no meat for me, but if its halal girl I will eat that pu**y / let that boy cook like my college degree was culinary / I'm on some bill withers shit, girl use me / no shame in my game when you scream my name / I don't mind playing the fool, if you just play it cool / bismillah rahman, jah bless / a lil role play, I'm al capone, you eliot ness / I'll catch it if you throw it back at me / gatorade on the nightstand cause I'm an athlete, riding fixed gear to stay in shape so I stroke hard / stroked it so hard she tried to play the race card / girrl that ain't politically correct / but you know I came correct wit my hands around your neck / shit, you betta make it memorable so I can reflect upon it, next day at work, at my desk, but can't focus on it / sexy ass potty mouth b*tch! keep talking that sh*t! / you know I love it & I wanna hug it! / can't get enough of it, even when I'm done wit it... my lips is THICK because I'm BUILT for this shit! / dead tired still wanna have more fun wit' it / gimme me that sweet, that nasty stuff / I love brooklyn girls cause they love it rough / I love brooklyn weed cause the sh*t burn slow / I mix it wit some tobacco & roll it in an optimo / bedstuy, we be on that newport short sh*t / supreme 5 panel rocking polo sport sh*t / ask my ni*ga fresh daily, yea he know about it / ten years deep in the borough and I'm glad I found it / huh / word to 40oz van that's my ni*ga, ionno know him but he still my mans, f*ck it
Track Name: Long Time Coming (The Weight Remix)
LYRICS:
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maan I ain't never to been a studio, I'm rhymin' in bedroom, passin' a blunt 'round to myself like an heirloom / I don’t need no fancy equipment / all I need is my LAPTOP & my headset; it's plantronics / peep my phonics, word to noam chomsky / feel my intellect when i speak through my soliloquy / this is past life poetry / when I spit I channel reincarnated, ancient kemetic royalty / maan, yall ain't talented, just 'cause you GOT ON / and yall ain’t fly just because of what you GOT ON / my bars break paradigms / yall lyrics ain’t profound, they just F*CKIN RHYME / sh*t, that’s EASY / lemme step on couple of toes, take numbers / I'm woke! yall rip-van-winkle ass slumberers / and I ain’t doin' a whole album... why? / just so yall can FORGET about it, one week after I tweet about it / naw I'm on some different shit / I'm bout to jay elec-yarmulke the entire internet / place ya bet / do it on the humble / cause on the real the damn industry’s a jungle and I ain’t f*ckin TARZAN / average working black man... my great grand-daddy was a field hand / and on some real deal holyfield sh*t / I want my 40 & a mule man / the government got us beggin' rattlin' tin cans / I'm flowing straight from my soul & survival scroll / I'm in the pulpit, sit down to listen to it / chapter three verse one, the book of antoine / my voice is my instrument, my struggle my testament / umma said share this shit for my atonement / my day is coming, nig*a this is an omen

amen... ashé... hamdulillah.
Track Name: We Still Here (Love/Loss Remix)
LYRICS:
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I loved that girl so much / I loved her touch / I even loved the way the she smelled & shit / imprinted on my mind and I can't forget / tattooed on my soul so I'm wearing it / put her in my mojo pouch, she a special one / sting like a scorpion, sweet like a cherubim / young yemaja / swimmin' in the ocean / under the moon bathing in her salt water potion / her voice was melodic like the chirpin' that the birds do / she had a good spirit and some good power U / put it in my face, girrl, you know I like it / you can hit me like a heavyweight wit it / I won't fight it / this song's about love & war, pleasure & pain / cause energetically it's all the same / the alchemist said "don't worry" / the daoist said "follow your path, walk tall but don't hurry" / they both right / I'm a king by birthright / african son of the sun / brotherhood of light / already died once, I'm not scared now / it's easier the second time around, cause you know how / I was living in a teepee, singing at a pow-wow / even in my past life, I could still freestyle / my world is a world of wonders / I live by the energy of planets and the science of numbers / black, asiatic, with wit a nicotine habit / here's a piece of my mind, for your pocket, you can have it / you can't box an air sign in so don't try / I'm an aquarian contrarian / no lie / feather 'round my next cause i know i can fly & sh*t / I'm anointed by obatala and I ain't hidin' it / ridin' on ursa minor, poppin'' wheelies in my chariot / threw my stress out cause it's no room to carry it / serendipity & synchronicity is friends wit me, I'll introduce yall, lets politic alchemy / love is the guiding force / and fear is a trojan horse, don't let it inside your city / walk with me / beside me but not behind me / we still here cause we still on our journey / god is my judge & jury / fu*k an attorney / i'm still growing, still learnin' & yearnin' / gotta keep it moving cause the world keep turnin / gotta play it cool, cause hell gon' keep burnin' / maan, this ain't rhetoric / it ain't posturing, peace to elegba, my words are my offering / and to my future offspring, I cant wait till you here, lets get it poppin'

amen... ashé... hamdulillah.
Track Name: @CrisFaust feat. Mr. Day Job - My Dreams (Speed-Bump Remix)
LYRICS:
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a brooklyn boy with a southern drawl / just hopin' you fixin' to listen to what I'm about to tell yall / was walking through my hood one day / saw cats fightin' who ain't from 'round my / GOT DAMB, MAN! / I guess I gotta break it up / took an elbow to the gut, fu*k it, suck it up / maan, it wasn't always like this / I think thats why I had to rap & write this / and make it my opus / iron bars on the windows / you cant saw through 'em / can't your neightbor nowadays even if you know him / I'm a poet like edgar allen, an urban griot / fuck a feature on your album / I'm coming out SOLO / I ain't competing with yall anyway / when I spit, I compete with baldwin & hemingway / what up von pea, donwill my man / what up fresh daily, specboogie, & che grand / brooklyn holding shit down proper / this bitch go hard and nig*a you cant stop her / dont try / this is profound prose / and yall just posers, I spit harder than the white yall snort up your noses / try and test me / oshun blesses me / she inspires my allegory & poetry / I teach akashic principles / chillin' with my saudi queen with wide hips & deep dimples / yea I'm brooklyn to the bone gristle / and I'm coming at your neck like you the gaza strip and I'm a scud missle / dammit if I hear another rapper say YOLO / I'm pull my hair out / and it's already shaved low / no thank you, based god / thank you, based day job / if yall keep retweetin', I'ma keep makin' your head nod / word to my aquarian bredren / word to the master teachers sending us lessons / ayo don said spit on this shit, so I gotta hawk a loogie all on it, I'm on it, got dammit / ain't no hooks on my shit / 'cause I'm a true poet not a rapper / and I aint trynna sell it, that's it / happy fathers day to the mothers who played that role / both parents still together and I'm 30 years / humduillah.
Track Name: @TheStuyvesants feat. Mr. Day Job - Brooklyn's Finest Remix (Bonus Track)
LYRICS:
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I'm from the stuyvesant / we go hard like a muslim with a half crescent / halal roti shops up and down every block / the A train is the vein in my hood it never stop / blue uniforms on the corner when it get hot / barbecuing out on the stoop, or on the rooftop / them ole school dreads they be quick to rush ya bumbaclot / posted on the corner like the king of fucking camelot / dirt bikes, late nights / 50 cent loosies / pet the cat in the bodega, cop a double-deucy / white people walking mad fast down nostrand / head down hoping that the bums won’t notice 'em / hustle man, DVDs, socks, and white tees / or an ice cold nutcracker, if u thirsty / kids at the ball court, hooping under street lights / dominicans is playing dominoes, sipping bud light/ girls in them short shorts, air jordans & bangles / they flag waving out here, but not the star spangled / B.I.G. blastin' out somebody second floor window / the bass sound horrible, fuck it we still jammin' tho / sneakers hang from telephone lines like it’s some mistletoe / ole heads rockin' stacy adams with a kangol / sharper than a tack, ice cold like an eskimo / them old cat daddies cool ass hell, nah really doe / nail shops, gold shops, barber shops, drop tops / every now & then you might hear a stray gunshot / I love my borough, it's so thorough / fulton to bedford, bedford down to myrtle / my heart beat to the rhythm, word to shirley chisolm / so many names, but crooklyn my favorite pseudonym / school of the hard knocks, new jacks we tutor 'dem / couple hipsters moving in, I guess the hood cool again / revitalization is just gentrification / and the hood ain't shit without west indians & haitians / 'bout five or six accents, everybody rep hard / grills gleaming like my american express corporate card / when I walk down the block, see at least four friends / weed smoke thicker than a jamaican family reunion / what you doin? man I'm going to the parkway / west indian day parade this morning is jouvet / the sunset at brooklyn bridge park looks like a bouquet / when I spit it off the top they call me emcee toupee / 11216 I rep my zip code / my crew get liver than when busta had flipmode / I'm takin' off like, 'on your mark, ready, set, get-go' / crew thicker than bulletproof glass at the liquor store