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by Fuck Squad

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1.
04:06
2.
3.
4.
05:30

about

-Above all else, thanks is owed to Chris Krasnow for being so generous with his time, care and skill in recording and mixing this EP
-Thanks is owed to Erin Pellnat for being the first (and frequently only) person to come out to shows in the early days of the Fuck Squad, and for her enthusiasm and virtuosity in collaborating with us.
-Thanks to Nathan Campbell and Supe the Dude for giving shape, character and meaning to our songs that we couldn't have imagined on our own.
-Special-Extra Thanks to David and Rob Campbell for allowing their likenesses to be used as album art.
-Honorable Mention is owed to Arden Yonkers, from whom we stole the title of this EP

credits

released January 15, 2016

Fuck Squad is:

Dylan "Wild Bill" Maida- Keyboards
Eva Lawitts- Bass and Guitar
Bryan Framhein- Drum


Recorded, Mixed and Mastered by Chris Krasnow
Album Art by Eva Lawitts and David Lawitts

Dances
::Music by Dylan Maida
:::Lyrics written and performed by Supe The Dude

No Grand Designs
::Music by Eva Lawitts
:::Lyrics by Nathan J. Campbell
::::Featuring vocals by Erin Pellnat and Nathan J. Campbell

Real Nice Liar
::Music by Eva Lawitts

Beachcomber
::Music by Dylan Maida
:::Lyrics and Vocal Melodies by Nathan J. Campbell
::::Featuring vocals by Nathan J. Campbell

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Fuck Squad Brooklyn, New York

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Track Name: Dances
Slipping through these intervals
supe the dudes just a cynical spitter
so cut the chitter chatter when you see the batter up,
badder than two mick jaggers, mike jack and an rj bagger
what sadder is these lil naggers be thinking that they can hang
so i swang
Nothings changed but the change in my pocket.
Time spent Tryna blow like a defective rocket.
While men amass hard cash throwing blocks it into stock and tossing what they love most to the rocks for gold lockets

locks upon the head wrapped in a head band and im heading in the right direction flexing my fifth gate
pop in themic bump the track and then slay
they say im very scary so beware the forwarning before warring with the kid supe
coming though to give you a taste of what i call that great shit
take it don't fake it
life is what you make It
for now im just an "aint shit" brother with bigger dreams
than the seams holding my life together
but despite the weather y
ou catch me dancing underneath a holy umbrella swiss cheesed by hella hail

sippin from the holy grail smoking from the chalice
i only roll another L to get away from violence,
coping with reality, look how my brothers dying,
how could you be mad at me with bombs and bullets flying

in the words of the infamous Brooklyn-ite fuhgeddahboutit
in the words of the infamous Brooklyn-ite fuhgeddahboutit
fuhgeddahboutit
fuhgeddahboutit
fuhgeddahboutit
fuhgeddahboutit
in the words of the infamous Brooklyn-ite fuhgeddahboutit


you're always putting it off until the morning sun comes
sometimes you need to be about it now, move ya body now,
turn about and look around

you're always putting it off until the morning sun comes
sometimes you need to be about it now, move ya body now,
turn about and look around

I'm so fly when i die i'll be buried 6 feet lower than cruising altitude in this sky i've made my home
so when you look up you see me right next to the sun
i'm the 1, 2, 3,
filled with knowledge and wisdom understand the man
anything you want i can deliver quick with the snapbacks
not hats
retorts of all sorts it's hard to take a loss from me let's hope that you're a good sport, shake hands no funny business but if is i hit you with the born cypher,
(the type to mike tys ya, or entice ya, make you wanna try to get down with the get down, if not please just sit down)
Track Name: No Grand Designs
Waiting.
Listening.
Stranger.
Just visiting.

(Silent in Savannah,
sleepless in America.)

Sometimes I take a great notion
To my mind.
No grand designs

Play the
places.
Face the
blank faces.
Playing gigs can be fun sometimes;
Strum drum whine,
no grand designs.

(Bebop cowboy,
he got that sound toy,
Tricky Dick and Bryan Fireheim,
Sounds and time:
no grand designs)
Track Name: Beachcomber
after a while the beach always begins to drive my body crazy

battered with and brined in the heaviness of salt water

ten thousand grains of sand and i can feel them all individually

sand between my toes

i remember once

on the sea of Japan

a surfer's beach

white-hot
white sun
white sand
white skin

and the next morning I could hardly move

Full fathom five your father lies
These are pearls that were his eyes
Seagulls sourly sing his knell
[Sea shells, she sells seashells]
By the sea shore

So in the sun that I failed to see it
I sift the sand and I fail to find it

one time at coney island

within the sweet ugly smell of summer garbage

the seagulls circling screaming hungry impatient beaks

hovering around the trash can stinging yellowjacket wasps, one of them landed in my face and crawled right over my eye and i thought

i'll never see again
too much to look at, anyway

Comb the beach for empty shells
Sun sets, sea swells

Full fathom five and I fail to find it