Once upon a time in a place called rhyme, Lived a certain kind of freestyle individual with only hip hop as a guide, I’d confide and tell it my life like a shrink, Empty my think tank and stoat out for a drink, Until I heard a rumble coming over the horizon, Sobered up in 40 seconds master plans be devising, Or a marriage of sort’s news report: Mix the syncopated beats of samba with out retorts.

Brace yourself ladies and gentlemen SYB take the stage again We gladly present with affection Brazilian beats with Celtic connection

Weapon of choice chosen I ready my voice for poem Percussionist poised, waiting Eardrums moist with anticipation

Crowd rejoice when silence broken, Don’t stop encore go again Beat drop, go run, tell a friend SYB from Glasgow smoking

Blow the carnival wide open We pack mind rap, vocals flowing Hands clap, feet tap, body jacking Fall back, we rap, samba heaven

S – Soul sweet samba, steadily seeping sounds Surprised spectators scramble and surround Y – yelling yelps yodelling yesterday to yonder Using more force than Yoda B – Bass body blows, berating beats And battle tactics breaking bandstands into matchsticks You gotta catch this Glasgow madness Turning frowns round to a state of gladness

SYB unite till the end Diversify the sound when we blend We don’t follow, we set trends Baterias from the Valleys to the Glens SYB unite till the end Diversify the sound when we blend We don’t follow, we set trends Baterias from the Valleys to the Glens

I grab my bags, tickets and my passport, Lock up the fort, time to report 30 miles south of a proper airport Ten Stella poured down my neck and as I recollect The anticipation in all is rather prevalent And as we touch-up what we’re leaving behind seems irrelavent Wondering where the fuck my Stella went Then slip into a coma cos it’s not even eleven yet! Check out – to check in The next page in this chapter A couple of bevvy’s, a smoke, a bit of banter Stoatin about Stansted spending Queen’s heads Plus my empty light came on so I’m away to get fed Another drink – I slip into a little daydream Til I’m disturbed by half-man half-machine 30 Miles per Hour skirting our way thru And cos of Lenny’s gammy leg we got to skip the lengthy queue And when we’re thru, a couple more bevvy’s for good measure It’s not like we’re alcoholics we’re just doing it for the pleasure Knock back the brewski, play another song and it’s not long Til we’re playin Bodega’s near Carcassonne

Weekday, weeknight, weekend Fanatically the faith we defend Sound minded sambista’s we befriend Spread the spirit, religious like zen

SYB unite till the end Diversify the sound when we blend We don’t follow, we set trends Baterias from the Valleys to the Glens’

Representing all Celtic regions Resurrecting our foundations Reinventing Brazilian rhythms Achievement like certification

Rejuvenating like medication Dissect beats like an operation Appreciate Gratification Exceeding previous estimations

S – Soul sweet samba, steadily seeping sounds Surprised spectators scramble and surround Y – yelling yelps yodelling yesterday to yonder Using more force than Yoda B – Bass body blows, berating beats And battle tactics breaking bandstands into matchsticks You gotta catch this Glasgow madness Turning frowns round to a state of gladness

SYB unite till the end Diversify the sound when we blend We don’t follow, we set trends Baterias from the Valleys to the Glens SYB unite till the end Diversify the sound when we blend We don’t follow, we set trends Baterias from the Valleys to the Glens

From the north of the Clyde, To across the Irish Sea, To south of the border and deep in the south of France, Hebrides down to Cardiff lemme see you dance Like you’ve got kerosene on you jeans, We’ve got swing funk flavour bursting out of the seams Everyone wants a piece of this samba pie Choice ingredients and beats supplied by SYB This is the place to be This style is expensive we rock charities for free Opening doors of music cos we’ve got the key Like the one to the city where the wine is free, The percussion is rushing no hushing, others can’t be touching Surdos cause concussion like when I stick the mush in Drink vodka like we’re Russian, rivers of Bucky be gushing When we’re on the premises get the plugs in Or listen to your ears ringing due to malfunction Bass hitting hard to make you throw up your luncheon Aye, we’re fae Glasgow and if that wasn’t your assumption Then you need to listen to the style; subtle as a truncheon Caixa’s crunching, Tam’s perforating eardrums Dynamic style never sounding like the humdrum, Eleven letters in this Countdown conundrum Sambayabamba rockin with precise function

S – Soul sweet samba, steadily seeping sounds Surprised spectators scramble and surround Y – yelling yelps yodelling yesterday to yonder Using more force than Yoda B – Bass body blows, berating beats And battle tactics breaking bandstands into matchsticks You gotta catch this Glasgow madness Turning frowns round to a state of gladness

SYB unite till the end Diversify the sound when we blend We don’t follow, we set trends Baterias from the Valleys to the Glens SYB unite till the end Diversify the sound when we blend We don’t follow, we set trends Baterias from the Valleys to the Glens


Shatner's Bassoon

Avoiding beats that’s repetitive and sedative Derivative of lifes hum-drum monotony embedded I prefer it primitive, Strictly limited to skin over Madera Little use of DSP – crisp and clear into yer cochlea/ Rhythm steady and concise like breath control Roots go deeper than a shole of nocturnal sole Moulds – are being broken 2nd Nature never outspoken Ya Bamba promoting friction heat until the drums start smokin’ Or the polis come and stick they’re nose in B.O.P, fifty pound fine is what they’re supposing Opposing freedoms of expression? The session begins and you know why we’ve been chosen and impressing;Genre defying – first lesson I’ll press on like ariston, I’m deaf by the break of dawn, The ringing in my ears is gone But the beat goes on and on and on……. Where we’re at’s not where we’re from – Diversity runs strong..

Strong like unibond, fond of a little percussion When I wave my magic wand over the crown they start rushing The stage, cos this thing they call samba sounds like carnival Takes your body and soul to a place that feels wonderful You need to hear it live, aint no justice on a turntable Rumbling of the drums making foundations unstable Tams ring like guns making bodies unable To sit still, while 2nd nature spit our fables

The shear scale, the magnitude The spectacle, we’re in the mood Not a person left sitting in the venue at all Sambayabamba, its time for carnival!

Underground, undercover, feel smothered by my own thoughts, Rather buy shit off the net than bother ma arse wi the shops, Been compus-mentus since ma balls dropped harvestin ideas, Concepts in arrears so time to gather ma crop and pull out the stops, Sometimes I don’t know where to start Fartin around with enough loose ends – enough to fill five flipcharts One rotten apple comes along and ruins the whole damn cart But its easy to stay focussed and in control when you do it for arts sake My body parts ache with times fatigue Another two members of the gentlemens extraordinary league Although memberships exclusive and time is a factor Dukes of hazard style – clear angles unmeasurable by protractors Yeeehaaaaa – cowboys minus the rednecks, Vexed cos ma spare time suffers minimal sex Recollect past encounters re-establish contact by text Give the old one-two to a beauty queen, vision sponsored by becks, Next, fuck out wi production rapping an a spot on the decks, Exercising my index instead of the forearm flex, Pecks need some attention if only time was counted in hex – adecimal Catch a couple of spare decibels in between pay cheques, Perplexed as the days fly by, Faster than a speed ned in a vauxhal;l nova in a driveby, And I don’t skive – why? Cos of a guilt complex, Sands of time slippin thru ma fingers like plankton thru fishing nets Catch a moment for a second, after 2 seconds its gone I cant abscond from big bens dong time ticks on an on an on etc

Sambayabamba, name couldn’t be more fitting Like signs in the stars or a prophesy that’s written Fate composed these bars and the rhymes that we are spitting I think the beats from mars and the lyrics straight from heaven Just let down your guard and give in to the rhythm Of the drums guitars and percussion steady hitting When the beat bumps hard aint a person left sitting From Glasgow to afar with influences Brazilian

The shear scale, the magnitude The spectical, we’re in the mood Not a person left sitting in the venue at all Sambayabamba, its time for carnival!

Resiliant of the mainstream Enter daydreams on the daily Hailing comets into orbit drinking aftershock and baileys Caelidhs have to clear up While we rear up Set the gear up, Appear up – Performance is enough to make the dourest cunts cheer up And peer up To observe the bateria, Perfection like a metronome –Surdos sound crystal clear Knocking out some frequencies indistinguishable to the ear But you can feel it through your body like a premonition’s near And all those cheap imitations always quick to disappear Riding on another concept – Someone elses idea, And jeers in your direction steers for you to change selection of career to refuse collection Our intention – to bring a deeper fuller flavour Aquire the taste and savour The fruits of our labour, Delivery first class, So don’t waiver or dither Rhyme givers, come hither and feel the unforgiving bateria! Like onomatapia, Cruise control from starting up into 6th gear Chill with j’s and beer From the front to the rear – Thunderous rumble in the distance To up close – the answer’s clear!

As we bustle to the front so the crowd can see our face 2nd nature MCs stepping up up take there place At stage left and stage right We have tantrum and LGEE guaranteed to keep it tight As the samba drums pound rapping hard to keep pace Feel the rumble through the ground and the pressure on your face The air all around resonates with base Sambayabamba moves you from the waist

The shear scale, the magnitude The spectacle, we’re in the mood Not a person left sitting in the venue at all Sambayabamba, its time for carnival!