We’ve updated our Terms of Use to reflect our new entity name and address. You can review the changes here.
We’ve updated our Terms of Use. You can review the changes here.

Neo Noir Mixtape

by Zilla Rocca

/
  • Digital Album
    Streaming + Download

    Includes high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more. Paying supporters also get unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app.
    Purchasable with gift card

      name your price

    You own this

     

  • Limited Edition Dark Blue Cassette (Drink Coaster Sold Out)
    Cassette + Digital Album

    High-bias dark blue cassette tape with QR code for download, shrinkwrapped with J card and liner notes, ready to rock in your box

    Includes unlimited streaming of Neo Noir Mixtape via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

    Sold Out

1.
Neo Noir 01:54
I'll never be behind bars I'm not no Chico DeBarge I left my keys at the bar I'm just so Neo Noir Charge a fee for the bars Befriended thieves from the start 808's or guitars, I'm just so Neo Noir Watching scenes from Depart Dramatic divas alarmed This ain't a full deck of cards, this shit is Neo Noir Leave the pinot noir We're drinking Beef Eater y'all So leave your keys for the car, we're getting Neo Noir Another reason to dart I never sleep like a shark Golden leaf or cigar, smells like Neo Noir Pride and ego is scarred Because my peoples are sharp Under three feet of gauze, I look so Neo Noir
2.
Dead vets we ain't getting any younger Dead vets let no young boy tear asunder Stuck inside the cosmic tumbler Drinking growlers in the attic just to numb us While our fingerprints vanish off the surface, fuck it Our era's trending downward, dead vets don't crowdsurf Eating off rap but still malnourished Oh yeah we gotta gotta learn Stay popping 'fore we hipping hopping in that urn [Chorus] Everything hurts, everything's sore Every sin carries grace, magnificent and pure It's torture, torture, do you recall? Dead vet buried at the age of thirty-four All in all we crept the longest, all in all we found the dirt You recall my grown misfortune, I recall my handsome shirt Lanterns glowing, who will blow it out? One-half Irish, I can overdose on stout Opposite of irony Gangsters of distinction do it quietly Live from the driver's seat, flask inside the glove Meditation posture with the mask upside my mug [Chorus] Everything hurts, everything's sore Every sin carries grace, magnificent and pure It's torture, torture, do you recall? Dead vet buried at the age of thirty-four [Bridge] He's a force, it's a drought He's a corpse, he don't count [Outro] Dead vets, like cass-ettes, we pop them, we lose them
3.
Instamatic focal point, bringing damage to your borough We some brothers throwing TV, keep it thoro Play our little Jaguar with 60 bits, Alomar like how we spit I'm a private dick, catch you with the powdered prints you bitch You're a great cadaver, an amazing actor You're the cook and the client and mistake rapper Chase the saviors, amazing flavors Y'all aint got no paper like paid labor The wrath is coming, so lack assumption Catch me on the raps slash productions Hold my chalice, buy low on Palace These skirts ain't got nothing on the old Idalis I count you out, then I count you out This is your halflife, I count it down Fun and games came and went, buckle down to the pay the rent Every sixth man ain't built to play the bench, nah Aaron Mack, Toni K, Ricky P Strange Cargo shopper when I'm in the Windy C Then I'm in DC, then indie, see New 52 shit, I'm in DC Francesca Franca-V, Lobster Johnson banging heat Fly talk with slang to speak, speak it Security was breached, the pistol was jammed When it comes to devil water I'm a simple man [Bridge] Always had a way with chicks, always had a job to do Always had a buck in hand, never worse a mobster suit I see y'all, don't wanna be y'all I got the rest of my life, I'm getting free y'all It's never peace y'all, so what it be y'all Put your hands to the sky and crack the C y'all, the ceiling [Hook] Crack the heavens, it's time to bring the biz to kids We crack the heavens, it's time to bring the biz to kids Crack it, crack it, crack it, crack it, crack it [Bridge] Always had a way with chicks, always had a job to do Always had a buck in hand, never worse a mobster suit We played with Ouida boards in school, it said I'd make the NBA A point guard for the Vancouver Grizzlies No shoes from Sicily, spiffy spiffy Thrifty thrifty, really miss that 9th street Nifty Fifties Messing with my funds is like Mexicans With Guns Or a standoff hand off packages and run Like an Aztec dance for the sun Blindfold, Ced Ceballos shit classic dunk I made this for your trunk, not laptop speaker For bar room brawlers, not backroom bleeders Catch me in the Hop Sing Laundro Money changing hands like Rondon And my papers going Gonzo, here's the convo I hit the dirty thirty now I want it all pronto I hit the dirty thirty now I want it all pronto [Hook] Crack the heavens, it's time to bring the biz to kids We crack the heavens, it's time to bring the biz to kids Crack it, crack it, crack it, crack it, crack it
4.
Philly phantom gun, Guy Gardner lantern lung Joey Nazer hammer hung, garbage that a spammer spun Lie awake by the bannister, lids on a canister Secrets we store from Russian amateurs It's all cameras and jacks, smooth legs with a catch Produce medicine at fifty a batch Things that we do to relax: buy baggy vests Keep the shotties in the chrome body stretch, bet Nothing new to say when you get rich From BK to NJ the same shit the Nets switched The necklace I bought never meant shit Might cop a rhino cause y'all are sideshows Miguel Cairo's looking for another job Sell gyros for three bucks a pop Nothing left on this block, undercovers to watch Metal scrappers taking stoves out the box C'mon kid, it's stupid hot In '96 jakes hit Red's Buddha spot I'm sipping Johnie Walker Red Label on the rocks Youngsta's on cassette Justin's boombox Adjusting up that new plot Starlets in hatchbacks, political backscratch My man did tours in Baghdad and never talked about it That's a real shooter for you cowards, stay off the fuckin flowers I made rounds in Germantown with Charlie and Hart Stashed twenty grand in the front yard The jux fell apart, lost Boogie when a shepherd bit his arm Then his throat, the getaway driver hit the road Either way we're getting paid what we're owed Just act like a tourist when barney's might approach And keep the pocket rocket in your coat Kimmy's at the safehouse frying up eggs, we gotta stay down Back in Tulane my brother found his grave On the run for eleven-teen days Rizzo turned the page, figured us for flapjacks I had a .22, that's bad news for Black Jack Talk in avalanche morse code then bundle up Silly me thinking we were on the cusp Of greatness, hall of fame hammers in the area Now we're down in VA juxing James Farrior Sending carrier pigeons back to Tony Scratch You need us back? We're sick of these phony accents
5.
[Zilla Rocca] Draw guns and robberies I want to have a wife and drink Three Philosophies I want a favorite hockey team, I don't want a favorite soccer team I want to get the blood stains out with OxyClean I want to buy an old slot machine Sick of landlords, I want to own property I want to pay above my paygrade I don't shave or waste twenty dollars on a razor blade Cause I never had a babyface, just a razor wit, that was my saving grace I want fame then I want to run out of it I want to age like John Malkovich I learned patience working with a malcontent I write less so I'm never running out of breath I save money, one day I'll be outta debt And buy avocados instead of Alpha Bits [Hook] Why do things we hate the most pay the most? Why do things we love the most pay the least? Go to school with a dollar and a dream Come home without a dollar or a dream Tremendous cream, budget [Has-Lo] Pull a heist.... Draw guns and robberies I want a brain with a healthier velocity Plus a slick inner dialogue, I hate thinking so toxicly I want to crush bad memories and possibly I want to buy an arcade machine And be the success my grandmother never got to meet In her heyday, I don't shave Or blow twenty bucks on a razorblade, cause I always had a baby face Plus a painter's gift, thus I illustrate I want fame cause I never been popular I want to stay young, but not amateur I see my life with the half canister I'm back writing more after being out of sorts The kid sure with the things I can now afford And buy a house with the keys I can hand my earth [Hook] Why do things we hate the most pay the most? Why do things we love the most pay the least? Go to school with a dollar and a dream Come home without a dollar or a dream Tremendous cream, budget
6.
[Hook] We'll be fine, we'll be fine, we'll be fine, we'll be fine We'll be fine, I count dimes and save them Drink white wine outside, hi neighbors Hi haters, yeah I had some I had fun in Cancun with black rum Red trunks in the pool with a doctor Talking about his Fishtown condo, made me self-conscious Three cribs in one year Three sips off one beer Free trips to Tangiers and San Juan Tourguide took a piss with his pants on I danced all night with my pants too tight Last few nights had dreams can't fight Will I really be fine? Older I get, my passion declines Delusions arise in my mind Don't whine baby boy, have faith, you'll be fine [Hook] We'll be fine, we'll be fine, we'll be fine, we'll be fine We'll be fine, I'm still unsigned You probably are too Weak stomach, I can't drink no orange juice Too acidic, fear on the mind make the body act different So I act different, think different, spit different Bad habits pink slip it This is new wisdom What makes me deluded? If I'm not working I just feel useless How stupid Success is invisible My growth is living proof Rhyming half my life Dayjobs for half my life So now I recline, won't be confused by my mind Can't be a failure, I'm doing just fine [Hook] We'll be fine, we'll be fine, we'll be fine, we'll be fine
7.
[Zilla Rocca] Check my lineage, son check my lineage Double Black bottles when I'm penniless Rappers drink that fruity shit - apple snapple frappatina sugar glass Diddy sold you citrus vodka, looks like VO5 Have a beer, be advised Powder keg, not a sound effect, bought a round of drinks and a pound of flesh Cassette just like a Ruger shoot, suited up with ill repute I don't go to church and I don't fill the pews I don't owe you dirt, I don't feel accused I don't come up short like Philip Hughes I'm Raymond Chandler up Jacob's Ladder Ray Manzerick, don't play with actors Hold the hammer like Basement Crashers Blame my father, he made me dapper Before Dick Whitman split shit, Vic Sage With the hoodie like a ringwraithe, Sam Goody back in tenth grade, get paid There's something to be said about a boy and his brains There's something to be said about a boy and his brains I said it, I said it, I said it, let's get it [Hook] Not looking for the right thing, looking for the right now On the freak beat with the lights out Not looking for the right thing, looking for the right now On the freak beat with the lights out Not looking for the right thing, looking for the right now On the freak beat with the lights out Heart going, chest heaving, we listen, you speak it One for you, one for me, one for you, one for me One for you, one for me, on the freak beat One for you, one for me, one for you, one for me Heart going, chest heaving, we listen, you speak it [doseone] Life so much no longer surprised Adam Unless I form hard rights on all my majoring mind habits Hop off my human-sized hyenna, drag baggage and ash out On a face full of sunset, slowing the roar off my chest Full of generally civil unrest, little invest, riddles my meth Nodding effects, my crack coded relationship with shit that spills ink Leaving the barb lion plaques of how I think or don't these days Rapping pays very little in the greater scheme of humans doing it per square inch on the internet I wonder if in recent times he has become less window to heaven Real talk: I like my presidents dead Few weeks ago white lady told me I'm allergic to bread I of course blame the cops, one percent in water wet deep with debt I duel debt to death, then back again and Burlap sacks full of the flesh I took, the best I hoped As in a merch booth lost in tough, about how complex the human eye is No one ever enjoys with a mic did Rappers get all the credit You go to see a lion, not the animal they fed it, fuck Texas Life is an overdriven ballet of banality and critical exits That's right I said it - fuck Texas [Hook] Not looking for the right thing, looking for the right now On the freak beat with the lights out Not looking for the right thing, looking for the right now On the freak beat with the lights out Not looking for the right thing, looking for the right now On the freak beat with the lights out Heart going, chest heaving, we listen, you speak it One for you, one for me, one for you, one for me One for you, one for me, on the freak beat One for you, one for me, one for you, one for me Heart going, chest heaving, we listen, you speak it [Zilla Rocca] Son of Dennis Coles, son of Nasir Jones Son of Adam Drucker, South Philly barrell busters This town don't love us, but we love her back I like my presidents dead, my crew is unsurpassed See luck's for suckers, and life is cheap I got my spiritual guides for the price of beef There is no eye, no ear, no tongue, no taste, no brain The Richest Man in Babylon, Siddhartha with the chain [Hook] Not looking for the right thing, looking for the right now On the freak beat with the lights out Not looking for the right thing, looking for the right now On the freak beat with the lights out Not looking for the right thing, looking for the right now On the freak beat with the lights out Heart going, chest heaving, we listen, you speak it One for you, one for me, one for you, one for me One for you, one for me, on the freak beat One for you, one for me, one for you, one for me Heart going, chest heaving, we listen, you speak it
8.
9.
[Hook] Nah nah nah, never tell them you're a rapper I'm a DJ, I'm a musician Nah nah nah, never tell them you're a rapper I play in bands on the weekend [Zilla Rocca] I went to school and got a bachelor's I can't believe I'm a rapper Might go back and get my master's And just pretend that I never was a rapper Never tell them you're a rapper My girl's mom doesn't think that I'm a rapper My own mom didn't want to raise a rapper My ex girls didn't want to date a rapper That's the goddamn truth Hate when people ask me "What kind of music do you do?" I say "Hip Hop" They say "Dude...no seriously, what kind of music do you do?" Everyone loves rap, no one loves rapper Unless they want to hear a freestyle at a party I want to get drunk, I don't feel like rapping Don't tell people I'm the rapper at the party [Hook] Nah nah nah, never tell them you're a rapper I'm a DJ, I'm a musician Nah nah nah, never tell them you're a rapper I play in bands on the weekend [PremRock] Don't ever tell her you're a rapper Unless you like being a bachelor Well, I guess it was a phase I'm onto brighter days, I swear girl that's a closed chapter See I use the word "writer", that's commendable And certain households put it on a pedestal But I hope that it's the case, all a matter of taste Imagine granddad respecting rap as a trade But a rapper? That's the shit you never do Thinking that you're clever but no one thinks that you're clever dude No one gives a ---- about your Bandcamp And your show even you get your hand stamped You should say that you're a drummer Like Ringo Starr and play festivals every summer Cause when they find out you're a rapper The next thing they're gonna ask "Well since you rap, rap motherfucker, rap!" Would you roll up on a dancer and ask her ass to tap? [Hook] Nah nah, never tell them you're a rapper I tune pianos, I write songs Nah nah, never tell them you're a rapper I'm a disc jock, I spin rock Nah nah, never tell them you're a rapper I play dijimbe, nah nah Nah nah, never tell them you're a rapper I play keyboards, Casio's
10.
11.
[Chorus] I see you over there just watching, watching, watching, watching You don't think we see you straight clockin, clockin, clockin, clockin Like Crazy Errol with his shotgun, shotgun, shotgun, shotgun Book or the movie you got options, options, options, options [Curly Castro] I'm the rapier like Rafer Alston, Skip to My Tommy Boy lent me the Black, so get to my Racing on a puma, rocking them black panthers Beard like Mousollini, sending love to Cuba Of the greatest, non gratis like Grand Puba Bruce shot himself in the back, it's called Looper Counting on Base D heard she was a SUUUUPER Rosie Perez thought Mookie was a punta So Mookie launched a can, they set the fires early The rage manifested, and turned the block unearthly Like little Drew Sharp when Todd went seven-thirty Or Magic on the break, any peripheals Worthy It's over inna blink, the trigger's been pulled But it's longer than you think, your instincts are fooled But you always had the choice to walk away fulfilled Now you're cooking in fat like a kitchen of Steel's [Bridge] Ayyo why the hell you trying to get funky on me, Castro? Why the hell you trying to get funky on me, Zilla? Yo don't they know who we are? Don't be bashful Wrecking Crew's the name fool Vernon Maxwell [Chorus] I see you over there just watching, watching, watching, watching You don't think we see you straight clockin, clockin, clockin, clockin Like Crazy Errol with his shotgun, shotgun, shotgun, shotgun Book or the movie you got options, options, options, options [Zilla Rocca] Calm as a killer with aces and playing his hand Hahneman Hospital, go lay with your man Laughing and lounging with beer you never heard of You're pretty as a prayer book but you don't learn much You want it, you got it, you salivated like wolves Awake from Nautica nightmares in night school You're older you're broke and you're single at the same time It don't matter when you rhyme, why? '01 I had fun, '02 I was new '03 I did me, '04 I broke through '05 got live, '06 in the mix '07 no chicks, '08 I was a dick '09 on the grind Shadowboxing myself 2010 cut ties and it hurt like hell '11 formed a crew, 2012 rang bells '13 we gave smacks in '14 as well [Bridge] Ayyo why the hell you trying to get funky on me, Zilla? Why the hell you trying to get funky on me, Castro? Don't they know who we are? Don't be bashful Wrecking Crew's the name, fool Vernon Maxwell [Chorus] I see you over there just watching, watching, watching, watching You don't think we see you straight clockin, clockin, clockin, clockin Like Crazy Errol with his shotgun, shotgun, shotgun, shotgun Book or the movie you got options, options, options, options

about

BANDCAMP EXCLUSIVE - NOT AVAILABLE ANYWHERE ELSE

NEO NOIR is the first Zilla Rocca mixtape since 2008's "Bring Me the Head of Zilla Rocca!" and the first to be pressed up on cassette. Vaunted leftfield facemelters gets blammed up with appearances from doseone (Anticon), PremRock & Curly Castro (Wrecking Crew), Elucid (Armand Hammer/Cult Favorite), Has-Lo (Mello Music Group), and Dewey Decibel (Bold New Breed)

The mixtape is only digitally available via Bandcamp and on cassette. It will not ever be released on any other streaming platforms.

credits

released October 29, 2013

Mixed & Mastered by Zilla Rocca @ The International Dart Parlour. Philadlephia, PA

Management: Doug Jones for Thirty Three Jones LLC -- deefresh@gmail.com
Artwork & design by Justin Keller for FCA-Designs.com


Dedicated to everybody who has collected my calamities since 2006. I've changed skins so many times -- this collection of songs in cassette (and digital) form restored my love for rap and the medium that is still the most intimate and sloppy. Peace to my dad who taught me how to make actual mix tapes in the early '90s. Peace to my mom for letting me steal her old boombox. Peace to my fiancee Laura for liking this stuff even though she's heard every song 600 times by now. Peace to Wrecking Crew, PremRock, and Justin for the inspiration. Peace to Fresh for still believing in me. Peace to Tony Touch, DJ Clue, DJ Soul, DJ Camilo, Funk Flex, and The Record Bar in South Philly for the bulk of my tape collection. - ZR

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

Three Dollar Pistol Music LLC Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Too boom bap for art house, too weirdo for the trap house, too indie for the cash out, cause all we do is black out!

All records created or handpicked by Zilla Rocca to fit your impeccable indie rap tastes!

contact / help

Contact Three Dollar Pistol Music LLC

Streaming and
Download help

Shipping and returns

Redeem code

Report this album or account