Badminton Club

by Broke & Repeat Pattern

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    Limited edition 12inch Vinyl pressed on plain black vinyl .
    Screen printed covers with original sleeve and label art by 96.
    Limited to 300 copies.

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  • Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

    50 Combo Limited includes: Digital Album, Badminton Club 12" Vinyl, Choice of S to XXL Cotton "Cascade Logo Tee" + Handnumbered Poster with original Art by 96.

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    edition of 50  8 remaining
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  • Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

    Combo Limited includes: Digital Album, Badminton Club 12" Vinyl + Choice of Black or Grey "Cascade Hat" (Limited Edition of 50 Copies )

    Includes unlimited streaming of Badminton Club via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 2 days
    edition of 50  8 remaining
    Purchasable with gift card

      €19 EUR or more 

     

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1.
I was a fiend before I wrote my first sixteen Scratched on a tech, or even touched an MP Before I could chop breaks or spin wax on plates I put pen to page and wrote rhymes for days Never sleep in this state of mind, tapes that stayed on rewind Diggin' in the crates, life finds me entwined With those who knew the time I speak truthfully My top 3: Nas, Pharaohe Monch, and Kool G In reverse order, I first sought it to see me through A juggernaut in the game, Marvel and Capcom 2 Or Breeze Brewin I ease through it, fluid is my vision Many have skills but knowledge, respect, and intuition Is that shit you're missin', so you could call me Broke the gifted Think you know how I'm hitting', but I'll chop a beat and flip it Verse blue & cream like Tony Starks in Clarks Game's cold as ice water, stay slaughtering sharks Set it off Im raw like Kane, leave you in shards b Bring the motherfuckin' Ruck she I rock like Sean P None of these cats spittin' shit that could harm me Word life you need to come clean kid, you probably Lack the minerals and vitamins, don't test you luck, what? You need to put the mic down, make beats, & shut the fuck up Spittin' these madlibs when I got a jones for poems I could throw a stone, these rap cats be like oh no Follow the leader through my lyrics of fury Grave diggin' up the future yo the RZA couldn't cure me Like when the stakes is high, it's something; you feel I'm just a beastly boy with a license to ill Ninety percent of these dudes on the mic need to quit it You can hear it when I spit it that I ain't about gimmicks This Broke verse my pen mend together is surely The most beuatifullest thing in this world like Keith Murray Originate, cornbread and Taki do the math Destroy all lines when I bomb like graff Your whole style is trash, I perfect my craft Rock a mic stand like a hells wind staff Tame a sensei, leave 'em with L's Freeze my soul to ice, sell and press to 12's Askin' me what the secret is? Shit I can't believe it kid You got the recipe and can't find the main ingredient It's diamonds in the crates, beat mine displays Buck shots at the crowd 'til they enter my stage In showbiz, I'm buck wild with finesse on a page 9th Wonder I'm cool and slick in digable ways Outsider in the game but I'm one with my pace Turn a cipher to a fuckin' slaughterhouse like Ace I'll be placed with the greats it's from here to fame And keep shittin' these cats 'til they remember my name It's Broke
2.
Laced with raw taste see the shit I wrote Razor tongue and spit lines that'll spit your throat Call me Broke the gate keeper the light sleeper the night dreamer Blue notes that'll rival Aretha Truth crush the soul of a preacher I'm off of the meter Arrogant talk, Boondocks Saint your thoughts unbelieva Bullshit quiet down with that broken language ether smooth with a trigger that'll damage your features Bass bump so tough shit'll shatter your speakers Only built for blunt ciphers bumping' bangers and heaters & punks jump up, get beat down for Timb's and Adidas Sticky fingered onyx kid, for instrumentals I'm fiendin' Amazed at how I get it in, feeding heads the medicine Ink pen, I said it kid seroquel embedded in Lines your remembering, can it be so simple when The beat leave you shook and acapella got you trembling 4,3,2,1 times up on your swag Spit black flag at adolescents to leave they're brains bad While I maintain the rock, kick the real when I'm stylin' Sicker than G.G Allin or a Paid In Full medallion Mad dudes with masks, games full of fancy clowns Any critics tryna sweat it can catch a beat down Check how this heat sound, pattern repeat now you hostile Wanna battle him? No quieres ningun un pedazo To those who don't speak, you don't want a piece, boombox MC's out shoes and socks, BK to Boondocks 8, 7, 6, 5 lines to go For a 16 I spit clean through bars and notes Wonder where I'm goin' truly hard to know For every cut that I quote is a scar I wrote Trapped in these lines and my physical shell It was written I'm the future kid, it ain't hard to tell
3.
Exhale thoughts like hash smoke through my snot box And rock spots lifted, whatever I kick is top notch Inkwell sprinkle on the strings, a distinct smell Really how could he tell? Droppin' gems on the frail Please pardon this black hearted rap artist Get it in the hardest regardless of all the nonsense & trash authors, bothered by a lack of content Intent or offer defined by the context Truly I'm haunted by things that I wanted Half a wake and sleep, rhymes rise out of the darkness Really, I call it essence the heart battery charger Foggy like ganja, and every day it seems farther Sounds harder to hear this, trip for hours When it boils down the world and the choose is ours Endless we got cowards, plottin' wars for power While Broke walk the street worth a pocket full of flowers
4.
02:20
Go ahead rewind it, wait 'til the next line hits The bars coincided in combat designed shift Lotus crown burgundy absurdly worded the Prose move disturbingly close to how he turn the beat Seen who? Concrete dude, eyes is green jewels Can't think, clock strikes at least 2 Most folks won't take it there, when I get in it Choke hold kicks and snares at eighty five beats a minute Max Roach of rap quotes framed in letterbox Shoot the fiends the wide screen of my dreams and let 'em watch Fess up to being self absorbed, a poor mans escape -ism when I connect stiffened words straight to tape Mead composition the rhythm, turn and swerve Neither here or there, but each term reserved Hand picked what I ran with, test of stamina The sole Champion, the rest are no Alexander Something to ease the tension, or that's the word I went with For certain scenes are set in, scales of grey for entrance A season in hell, a labor of love and ink pen Primary colors filling flavors I could think in Hit the brink, pause, then print tones to the margin If I resent the present then tomorrows not a prospect i'm speaking honest, in the bars bury jewels strike hard without regard for queensberry rules Elements placed punching, hooks are crushing What I frames fucking filthy, dialogues disgusting Hats keep the beat from busting, mastered the craft Word to RZA on the drums and Premier on the stabs Need to call up Kesh & start another session Peace to Repeat for the ill shit I'm blessed with To cats who can't' spit fuck it, peep a lesson Spit a hot 16, EQ, mix, Compression
5.
Verse 1 Rockin' Repeat Pattern, leave MC's meat splattered From the bomb we planted, leave 'em in bits like Sega Saturn Time out the window, wonder where it went though Like lost hours on Nintendo, yo it's simple Shaolin style throw darts to your temple Caught dudes off balance, yeah you buggin' of the tempo Off the strength of one rhyme, fell in love with a nympho Hit you in the heart regardless of who it's meant for Requiem for loss opposite of Marciano Taste a lost break spread across a raw piano Sounding all dismantled but poems set pace Gem words, wise man, never trust a smiling face Like I lost the race before the judge could set his watch Before the photo finish or I could get the crowd to rock When you down and out, and ain't nobody helpin' you It's a tough break kid, but everybody's dealt a few Verse 2 Let's play a game of reversed roles, minus commercials All this pain still stuck to your heart, what's it worth though? Weigh you down heavy when it's time to move on, wait For every bitter song I wrote, this take the cake It's like truly a trip though, Broke but I'm spittin' it Past the next flannel or 5 panel fitted kid No pity to who I cross, coin toss yo who want it? Polish a beat to bass and drop a jewel on it Not the violent type but never caught an L once I fuck around and knock the next punk out his Nike dunks Batter hit the mound, never make it past strike one No D for three, asking what's your life like son? Not too unlike life for me to question my own King of the concrete, pull up a seat on my throne Take a moment for film, captured with a snap Flash, cut, print, and it's a wrap
6.
Verse 1 Run the rock with no clock, takin' buzzer shots Caught 'em on the spot, bomb blocks with the unorthodox Switch after 16 like he a different person But RP said never hit 'em with less than two verses My life at 33 and a 1/3, can'r relax for shit When he feel in' trapped in it, his medicine is practicing The method he be rappin' in resembles that of Kool Moe Met Keith and Ghostface in the era of steel toes On heels of a real pro, behind the wheels turning Raw, think he an addict how gee's got the bass burning Do the knowledge, learn 'em, old fashioned hand crafted it They Say the way he's rappin' bent is something like immaculate Shoe boxes of beats, peace to ETC Run with Onset and T, and split my bread in three's Damn if they ain't signing me, the rest is old news Give him a Tascam to rip, when he touch it it's Pro Tools The kid is type foolish, put his neck before his pride & when he said he had nothing to hide, he lied Verse 2 Got 'em like he born to lose, but that's what the horrors do Viewed and spoke to few, that'll bruise your aura blue Wish I had this rap shit in sides it's true But this light choose to move in waves and moods That's why I never held my tongue when life got me shook man I grabbed a pen and pad, hit the crates, and never looked back Ask indirect and they think that he's lost When anther mans mess is my own tour de force Different matter of course when Im scattering thoughts Old habits are gathered, what I'm traveling towards There's 2 sides two the sword that's how the story gets intricate Could only mean it's war and the score is type infinite For every rhyme written in, spittin' ever since a kid Love to get into shit, but the last page I'm missing it (Repeat)
7.
03:27
Verse 1 Can't catch his focus, too ill to explain Broke move on a track like Hakeem in the lane Deep seeded and strange, one would say disarray How he raise hi shoulders and just be on his way Nothing doing but rocking 'til slugs into 'em Metal or the grave, until then he'll one this music Higher praise, a toast to this ether style of mine Oddly gaze, My Bloody valentine on Ballantine Quarts like Walkmans, murk a track ruthless How he killed hours tying loose ends, nuisance Attention to the scene, take aseat or dream tight Buggin' type how he black out and bring light Reel to reel, wheels of steel, booths in awe Cats won't match his stats at all, DAT to DAW Drop the throne on clones, the prince and the pharaoh The man behind the beats dipped in Wallabee apparel Hook Take looseleaf sheets, let the blanks fill I came to Move you to a different place and my pain still Make my soul rain, kill tracks or crews All these wack motherfuckers is sub-tractable No weight or pull, it ain't debatable, I hold that You fold back, leave a vapor trail after I smoke cats Knock 'em out the box, golden glove earned his mitts Top 5 journalist, yearn to spit determined with Words learned to kick, Sonny Cheeba off the reefer To anyone who step in my chamber, prepare to meet the True Master, hazardous, fuck all that talking' fam Don't mention It, I'm meant to rip from here to Japan Hope you're keeping the score, Shayfiq to Main Source Not the word to play, so over break beats I claim war Maintain my mind frame, pen murder cassette Kids watch your step, don't sleep or get swept Verse 2 Scribble words sloppy like backwards from start All this searching for naught got my kicks fallin' apart Dismantle my ways, break the old routine Try to get my handle up with the heads like Skeme Trains and paint, skate throughout day to day Pray for something to claim, scratch my name in the pane Of the few whose the same, see him in the freezing rain Grape blunt in his face, dreaming how to seize his fate For tomorrows he could save, ain't nothing he could say Put on hold or ice, isn't something we could gauge With respect to acclaim, never sought to gain an ounce He just came to fuck up the game and bounce Tag 'em out, and watch the rest keep the bench warm & run the back court with my click that's like ten strong The original who rock so far with a swing Son he's all live, true, an all out king Hook repeat

about

___________________________________________________

Ok guys, here is our testament for this end of year!
If you've followed Cascade Records since the beginning,
you certainly know our classic album, "Love Exposure," as well as
Broke and RP.Well they're together again with an incredible new
episode called "Badminton Club"!
In a sense, this is the result we all expected and were waiting for
from the beginning!This new album is finely tuned for the likes of
all big lovers of hiphop/rap/electronic.
With the promising Cascade debut of "Love Exposure", and their
solo releases,"Chasing Her" by Broke and "08-09" by Repeat Pattern, the bar has been set high but "Badminton Club" delivers so we urge you... DON'T SLEEP!!

Sal
___________________________________________________

Instant friends, starting three years ago from that first mail sent over MySpace, we've long talked about releasing something but without a solid plan or timeline in mind. Always trading everything, and often working together on projects, we've finally scraped together a couple things that seem to kind of make sense next to each other. Most of it older material, this release has been a long time coming, a lot of fun, a lot of headaches and a lot of learning. So we share it from here, in all it's glory and lack there of. Badminton Club is RepeatPattern and Broke. Thank you.

Broke & Repeat Pattern
___________________________________________________

credits

released December 18, 2012

All Music Written & Produced by Repeat Pattern
All lyrics Written by Broke
Mastering by Barry Gardner
Art Direction and Illustration by 96
A&R by Sal Martin

All Rigths of The Producers, Artworkers and Cascade Records
Of The Work Reproduced Reserved.

CRDNL014 [P]&[C] DECEMBER 2012 Cascade Records

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all rights reserved

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