i spent quarantine alone locked inside a tiny guest house in beverlywood, los angeles.  the space was cramped, but the saving grace of the place was a private little outdoor patio which i begrudgingly shared with the worlds largest population of crickets, or, as i like to call them, croquets.

i woke up everyday and spent my daylight hours grinding online poker - playing 3-4 tables at a time nonstop.  i’d eat breakfast while playing poker.  workout while playing poker.  call my family while playing poker.  the sun would set, and i’d close out the tables and walk down the tiny hall into my tiny bedroom studio, where i’d write and record until the sun came up, and then do it all over again.  for 8 months.  just me and the croquets. 

when i started working on this album, my life was a mess.  i was navigating a potential breakup with my girlfriend of 9 years.  i was on the verge of quitting poker after an extended brutal stretch.  i hadn’t written a song, or even stepped into the studio in ages. i was an irritable, miserable, downtrodden shell of myself.

things have changed a lot since i moved out of that little house.  my (then) girlfriend came out to los angeles with me.  we moved together into a (less tiny) house.  poker provided me with a level of stability and comfort for the first time in my adult life.  oh, and my (then) girlfriend?  we’re engaged.

i don’t really have much in common with the person who started this journey in music more than a dozen years ago.  my tastes have evolved.  my priorities have shifted.  while i’ll always be writing, recording or creating in some form or fashion - this feels like the end of the road for “marc goone”.

still - it seemed fitting to put this album out into the world before turning the page on a new chapter.  this album that saved my life.  this album that i worked on every night for 8 months in that tiny house in beverlywood, all while my little co-inhabitants caused quite the ruckus on that wonderful little patio.    this one is called, “croquet”.  it’s out now everywhere.  i hope you enjoy <3

old af

lizjoangoone

lea elui

ghost

squeamish (interlude)

stepback

insincerely urs

all ur friends

poker in la

mike matheny (prod. kyle schlienger)

all i hoped (prod. judge)

goat (prod. judge)

lemon party

produced by judge

lil wayne carter 2 medley

carter 2 medley

mcgwire & sosa

cups

drug dealer boy (yung walter white part 2)

a plethora of pleasant sounds by marc goone

nothing 2 lose (prod. zuckswithit)

american product (prod. james jones)

mistake (prod. judge)

numb (prod. judge)

LYRICS:

(verse)

yeah, im takin hits out the bong
hopin i hit on one song
never in bed before dawn
they wanna know what im on
still tryna cope that she gone
dad done showed us he strong, he strong
do what i got just to make it
fuck all these blogs and tastemakers
prolly wont spot me in fader
oh no do not need no favors
cant get my mind right, my mind right mind right
chase the limelight, the limelight, limelight yeah
need this shit to pop off soon
i swear i spent the last 2 years my life in a cocoon
some days i wake up ask myself like what the fuck you doin
aint no goddamn money in this game that im pursuin

(hook)

i take it straight to the head
my eyes be glazed and they red
2 days since i been in bed been on a roll
i just been rollin the ls
hopin the money develops
so i can smoke it not sell and get this dough
cant work no odd job forever
gotta get my shit together
promise her itll get better but it been slow
bottle my pain hope it sell
only thang i can do well
try to explain to myself i know i know
ill be alright

(verse 2)

i smoke that strong, strong, strong, strong
til my mind gone, gone, gone, gone, gone
hit the stage and i feel
like im right at home
dont like people for real
need my time alone
overthink shit a lil
need to let it go
why you think im always stoned
im awkward as shit never popular no
i got all these hits but no pop star oh no
i wanna get rich but ill not sell my soul
i aint changing me for them
im fillin up these venues but i still cant get no press
these fuckboys gettin put on oh no no im not impressed
you wont hear me on the radio cuz i aint got no bread
but fuck em all i got the internet

alright (prod. judge)

produced by judge

LYRICS:

[hook]
money, money, money all i know
spend it, spend it cannot take it when i'm gone
if happiness elude me after all my years...
i'll have lamborghini leather just to wipe my tears

[verse 1]:
lamborghini leather just to wipe my tears
sip on ‘46 macallan just to drown my fears
i dont run away from problems i just board my leer
all i ever wanted was to be a billionare
if i get low
bet my money dont
got guala to blow
they like whoa
black aventador
take off here i go
golden plated bong to smoke my weed out
michelin 3 starrin when i eat out
rollin out red carpet for my feet now
em rajatakowskis get with me now
butler got a butler motherfucker
dont cuff her i just i fuck her motherfucker
got fluffers ‘fore i fuck her motherfucker
truffles on the duck i had for supper
spend and spend and spend whatever i well please
cry myself to sleep at night on charlotte thomas sheets

[hook]

[verse 2]:
ill pour that moet lets have a party
then do blow yep off of her body
she dream of corvettes i got ferraris
her bucket list look like my normal monday hobbies
ima give the key note at the avns
livin like a cheat code when you play the sims
said she gon give me deep throat with like all her friends
my pockets fat as cee lo after 80 wings (got plenty tings)
think you stuntin in your hemi whoa
til i pull up in the venemo
then i pull up the bentley whoa
i got many many many more
got a jet that i could show her got a yacht that i could boat her
you aint even in my motherfuckin sphere
im just revvin up the motor when i feel a little lower
let the lamborghini leather dry my tear

[hook]

[outro]:
i let that lamborghini leather dry my tear
i do 110 im on the highway watch me veer
im doing pulls of louis 13 aint no reason i should steer
and got no plan but i be headed outta here
you know im shinin check my wrist and check my ear
and all my diamonds look like water cuz they clear
im doing pulls of yamazaki as i shift into 6th gear
and if i cry the lambo leather dry my tear
i got that blood red leather round my lambo wheel
bad red bone at home she know the deal
oxycodone in me keep popping pills
i let that lamborghini leather dry my tears
i got remind me that this life im living real
doing 190 round a corner just for thrill
im doing pulls of johnnie walker aint no hands up on the wheel
and if die theyll bury me in ysl

Download on iTunes

Lamborghini Tears

twitter.com/marcgoone

lyrics:

(Hook)
tell me why tell me why tell me why im a wide awake
hit the plug for the drugs tell me which one i should take
little blue pill 

(Verse 1)
little blue pill
where i wake and i sleep and i live unalive
in the land of the sheep
and the home of the blind

little blue pill
and i scramble to fill up the hole that’s inside
so i work and i work
then i buy and i buy
every success that i earned is because of my grind
the failures ive seen those are somebodys fault but not mine
bow to authority dont ever step out of line
be patient i’ll be the head shit shoveler in due time
ok, never really question why the world like that
i just wanna get a whip a crib a girl like that
follow what they tell me dont demur like that
ima pop another pill and make it blur like that
down the rabbit hole oh no ill never go since ignorance is bliss i guess ill never know

(Hook)

(Verse 2)
little blue pill
where hard work all it take it make it
we all abstain no need for safe sex
and boys in blue are never racist
where black and white bad and good light and dark never get mixed
to lose all that weight all you need is these three simple tricks
where if “i just follow these rules ill be saved” aint a myth
im eating my steak in the restaurant with agent smith
where marijuana is a gateway drug
but chemo is the cure thats saving us
and every addict is a criminal that should be behind bars to keep us safe and stuff
where god is bigger than the dollar bill
and global warming fake but hell is real
dont wanna wake up i dont care it made up im just getting ate up off my little pills 

Blue Pill (prod. judge)

left field (prod. judge)

boogers (prod. judge)

squid (prod. judge)

rewind (prod. judge)

btw (prod. judge)

Yung Khaleesi

Hunger ft. Futuristic

25 Bills

Yung Walter White

Chasing Rainbows

THIS IS MY $ONG 4 RADIO

Dennis Rodman ft. Nick Luebke

Close As I'ma Get

Take For Granted

i hope u hate this one

produced by judge

both

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