A la regresa. Best on loud as shit speakers.

Indio (Produced By Madlib)

Surpriseeee, surpriseeee, surpriseeee - Gomer Pyle

Tony Clifton (produced By GoodFood)

Blowback

This is the closest song to me as a person that I've written thus far. For anyone who goes through depression, I tried to paint as vivid a picture as I could of what it's like inside those lowest moments. If you can't relate- it wasn't meant for anyone but me anyway. Music is survival. Stay strong y'all.

Here. Right Now.

Black Fish, Blue Fish

Dillon N Dutch ft. Augustus Ceasar

"Freestyle" track to Broken Language from Smoothe da Hustla and Trigger tha Gambler. Noxious and K-Oz.

Broken Language II

Compilation of verses over Solitude instrumental by Madlib

Tired Eyes' Verses (prod. by Madlib)

Solo. Noir Produced. Noxious approved. 

Lyrics

Love of my life said i decided to be a failure
Well you were always right in retrospect- I never won one of those fights
(But ain't she dead now?) No, no, she's dead to me, I mean I'm dead to her
Another shot of Jameson to properly represent this blur
Could find me in the bar's corner with a couple of other corpses
Tweaking an off pitch rendition of my own Goodbye Horses (Crying after you!)
God damn, I gotta stop talking about these people inside my songs
Should put the now before the then and get home drunk before the dawn
(So talk about you then) Well they say that you are defined by who are your friends
I've come to rack up quite a few, I guess you'd say it just depends
So technically I'm non-existent, I like to keep that persistent
And sometimes I like to keep shit blunt before it gets twisted
....That doesn't say much does it? Let me reword it
I'm the type to snuff the shit outta myself if i deserved it
Everybody's got a breaking point kid, and I seem to be sitting at most of theirs
On a stool and pitcher with a coaster stair
Babysitting a pint of who really gives a fuck anyway
Barely writing out songs and just drawing out petty days
Someone save me from the dust inside this room that dies daily
Swinging second ticking face from dusk to dusk as if it trusts in nothing else

Panting up and down on this grayscale
Wondering where all the colors went and when I'll wake to know the day's hell
If it's all the same then I'd rather
Lie here in this sleep than to ever have to face the days after
Panting up and down on this grayscale
Wondering where all the colors went and when I'll wake to know the day's hell
If it's all the same then I'd rather
Lie here in this sleep than to ever have to face the days after

Numb as a shorn thumb, so where'd I get disdain and scorn from?
Must be these broken nights avoiding days like he avoided light
Oh there that goes again- avoidance talk and women, just the woes of men
Like the way I only wish it's some dark tunnel I been frozen in, but no
I'm free to move about inside this cloud I blew out my fucking self
And truthfully I don't need anyone's help
See unlike my pops, I admit to every hurtful atrocity I've committed
As if there's some sort of pardon in saying I did it
The way I used her (and), the way I waste me (and)
The way I'd burn you all in a drop and say it's cause I love you and you need a way to escape me
Let he who has flaws cast the next round of shots for the whole bar
So we could die knowing that this world could even spin at all (I guess that's me!)
Try to forget it all and it stalks you like a predator
Reality never leaves, it just sinks quicker when you struggle in its sleeves
So keep dreaming mother fucker, it'll be there as soon as you fidget
With a cold and steady hand, behind an air of cold indifference


So there's this box that I've been living in that holds a hundred doors
At every surface, corner, ceiling, wall, picket fence, and floor
The fuck's he babbling on right? Always seems to speak in riddles
Only he could understand to try to hide the shame belittling
himself through metaphors instead of saying he ain't shit
Just a talent born and buried like some faith could up and double it
The trouble is- there's not a single obstacle in front of him
And he thrives off that pressure except he dies out with less than twenty leagues above em
So he lies and clutches carpet fibers,
Memorizing mattress stains, and fucks away the hunger pangs
No one's slave, and nobody's victim, somebody kill em
Take that bottle from his palms of unrequited grace and alms
Throw those psalms away, burn em like he did the time and women
And his mother, and his friends, and his dead miscarried children
All this building to this noble self-forgiveness that'll never come
So let's clear it up- sun in my eyes, one in the gun

Noxious

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