Mass Appeal

by Hub City Stompers

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HCS' second album, released in 2005, featuring what would become some of the most popular HCS songs.


released July 1, 2005

Produced by King Django and Hub City Stompers. Recorded and mixed at Version City Studios, New Brunswick, NJ. Mastered by Alan Douches and Kim Dumas at West West Side Music.



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Hub City Stompers New Brunswick, New Jersey

Formed and founded in 2002 and hailing from the "hub city" of New Brunswick, NJ, Hub City Stompers embraces various styles of ska from the 60's thru the 80's, and adds reggae, punk, oi!, hardcore, hip-hop, jazz and even classical influences, managing to avoid a typical, formulaic ska sound and steer clear of cliche poppy ska lyrics.
4 CD's, national/international tours down, and ready for more.
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Track Name: Trojan Night
See a shiny silver keg, it’s as big as a whale!
And it’s full of Bass Ale!
Some sorority girls, yeah, I count about 20!
So come on! And don’t bring any beer money!

Well 5:00 and the weekend’s in sight.
But what’s to do on a Thursday night?
16 skins and a broken down car.
No booze, no girls, no money for the bar.
When down the street walk a couple of chaps,
with little Greek letters on their baseball caps.
Yappin’ and flappin’ ‘bout the party going down.
Oh that’s right, this is a college town!

An end to our frustration!
Don’t need an invitation!

So with street under boot, we’re hot in pursuit,
and set upon the village set to pillage and loot.
Big, Greek letters hanging over the door.
Fools behind it don’t know what’s in store.
We roll through the door, and ain’t that a bitch:
A forest full of Gap and Abercrombie & Fitch!
But noone says a thing to us, perhaps out of fear.
So half of us go for the girls, the rest go for the beer.

Don’t mind the staring faces!
We’ve found our beer oasis!

Just look the other way...
...when we enter the door and empty your keg!
...when my hand is sliding up your girlfriend’s leg!
...your beer or your life, we’re not too demanding!
...and at the end of the night you’ll still be standing!

As the night moves along, the beer flows strong.
There’s low-cut jeans and high-jacked thongs.
Street battle stories told loud and proud,
from sloppy, drunken mouths to a captive crowd.
Frat boys challenge us to drinking games.
We rise to the occasion and we put ‘em all to shame.
No “chug! chug! chug!” for the neighborhood thugs.
So put away your dixie cup, we brought our gallon jugs!

A thaw in our relations!
Made through inebriation!

We came! We saw! We drank! We flirted!
Now the beer is gone the place will be deserted!
Thanks from the bottom of our beer guts.
We’re going back to Welton Street to sit on our butts.
And if a few Theta girls come with us,
no need to make a fight, no need to make a fuss.
You’ll know where to find ‘em at half-past-two:
on the walk-of-shame home from the neighborhood crew!

Got just what we were needing!
And until our next meeting...
Track Name: Latina Rose
One Saturday on A & St. Marks,
What caught my eye west side of the park,
Was a fiery spark with eyes so dark.
Skin glazed to gold from equator’s sun light,
And hair as black as my darkest of nights,
And her 10-eye boots and A-1 Flight...oh that’s so right.

Words from her mouth flew in rapid fire.
What could I do to ground this live wire?
Binaca’d my doggie breath, tucked in my spare tire.
Dare I approach this Latina Rose?
My heart ablaze, my gaze of lust froze,
Watching her put those steel toes to some ho’s nose...that’s how it goes.

Dropped to my knees, wiped the blood from her Doc’s.
Gave compliments to her sweet knuckle knocks.
Gave her my phone number shaking in my socks.
A smile and “gracias” was her reply.
“Hasta luego”, that was goodbye.
Will I ever see her again? I’ll sure as hell try!
Track Name: Mass Appeal
I’m the one that’s out of step, I guess I’m the freak,
Living in a nation where the chic all look like junkies.
I find your skin & bones funky.
I want a girl with something in the trunky.
But if dimensions ain’t flat,
The narrow hips & minds declare you “fat”.
Skip a meal for the ideal of the skindustry.
Think they’re visionaries but I call them all assassins,
With the judgements they’re passin’,
Tell a girl of 13 what she has to fit her ass in.
Silicone on a stick
Ain’t nothing next to natural and thick.

You take the stem I’ll take the bloom.
Outside that Torrid dressing room,
That’s where you’ll find me chillin’,
So take Kate Moss ‘cause I want Kate Dillon.

The “F” in F-A-T reads “PH” to me!

Skinny Minny get the fuck out’ my face!
You look like you’re about to waste away to nothin’.
I want a girl with some stuffin’,
A couple extra pads of butter on that muffin.
It ain’t a fetish, it’s taste,
For those with hips and waist and body graced.
And “Mr. Perfect” with your insecurities,
You point and tease but, nigga please, you’re all ‘bout jookin’!
Big Mama’s got something cookin’.
Won’t admit it but you’d hit it when your boys ain’t lookin’,
But in the end it’s your loss,
Allowing shepherd’s flock to be the boss.

Your true desires, they shine through,
When others’ eyes are not on you.
So you can fake and you can front,
You can take Liv Tyler ‘cause it’s Mia that I want.

The “F” in F-A-T reads “PH” to me!

Deny the beauty that I see.
That’s less for them and more for me.
To your stick-figure-standard I remain defiant,
So keep your Vicki’s Secret while I peep Lane Bryant.

The “F” in F-A-T reads “PH” to me!

So when I take you out you’d better eat-it-up, eat-it-up.
When I get you home I’m gonna beat-it-up, beat-it-up.
‘Cause on that body I wanna pounce
And there’d better be alot-ee ‘cause skeletons don’t bounce.
I want my bed frame to shake,
So put away that salad, have a steak!

Don’t play the game, don’t try to hide.
Turn tears of shame to tears of pride.
It’s all in the eye of the beholder,
So put away your Barbie Doll, a real man didn’t mold her.

The “F” in F-A-T reads “PH” to me!
Track Name: Sum Of 3
Such a tricky equation, my girl, between us 2.
But I see a solution in the way she looks at you.
So the fact I'm taken need not leave us disgraced.
And this moment won't be forsaken and thrown to waste.
2 for 1, my yummy one, you get a package deal.
Come along, my yummy one, it's time to make it real.
'Cause when you see the fruit you grab it when it's ripe.
And it seems as luck would have it you're just our type.

You and me and my girl makes 3.
3 times 1 means fun gets done and everybody's happy.
You and me and my girl makes 3.
A 300% satisfaction guarantee.

If you take this offer we won't be hard to find.
Come and knock 3 times on room 369.
Two's good company but 3 is so much more.
Leave your clothes and inhibitions at the bedroom door.
There's no competition so everybody wins.
You're a nice addition, step up and jump right in.
Because 3 of a kind, it always beats a pair.
And didn't Mommy teach us it's always nice to share.

You and me and my girl makes 3.
On the mission for position possibilities.
You and me and my girl makes 3.
A 300% satisfaction guarantee.


You and me and my girl makes 3.
So much pleasure for your measure when your mind's set free.
You and me and my girl makes 3.
A 300% satisfaction guarantee.
Track Name: Suffer The Children
He was their precious. He was their prodigal son.
He grew up hearing “You’re such a fortunate one.
No need to think or wonder what you’re all about.
Your mommy and your daddy have it all planned out.”
Then came the one day when he was conscious and grown,
He came to realize he had no life of his own,
And when he dared to try to walk down his own road
What he thought was home, he saw it all explode.

(So where’d he go?)
Every time they run from you there’s someone else they’re running to.
Where they running to?

Rattle your saber and watch them flee.
Smother them with your hypocrisy.
Rattle their cages til they break free.
Suffer your children come unto me.

She was his princess. She was his one shining light.
He was her hero. Daddy had everything right.
The fairest of the fair, so cultured and refined,
til she brought home a young man of “another kind”.
He wouldn’t have it. “Abomination”, he said.
She said “I love him!”. He said “I’d rather be dead!”
And as she turned away in burning tears said he:
“No dirty nigger lover could have come from me!”

She was their angel. She was their number one love.
A gift from Jesus, sent down from heaven above.
Sent off to Catholic school and always earned straight A’s,
And by the will of God not set in sinful ways.
Then came the day she came home with something inside.
The gates of vengeance unlocked and flew open wide,
And running from their anger she could hear them yell:
“You filthy, little whore! You both will burn in hell!”

Rattle your saber and watch them flee.
Smother them with your hypocrisy.
Rattle their cages til they break free.
Suffer your children come unto me.
Suppress their nature until they see.
That you've become the real enemy.
Pass down your rage at what they can't be.
Suffer your children come unto me.