Truffle

(You got it, mag) Forever alone Know that I won't pick up if you blowin' my phone Charlie Sheen on the tip of my nose You on the edge of your seat and the tip of your toes I'm like, "Where to now, man, where do I go?" Man, it's feelin' like a Sunday, everyting's closed Everybody fake, so I keep the ting close The only real one is that FurCoatGhost Man, I don't know why I'm waitin' for somebody or somethin' to happen to me Man, it really don't matter, bro If you talkin' down, man, you better speak up I'ma let you say your peace before you really get patterned though Givenchy silk, man, she feelin' on this pattern, though I'ma take that bitch to Maccies I ain't take a bitch to Domino's Nine millimetre, pop it like a Zopiclone I'm the best ting ever like a motherfvckin' cinnamon roll Use the same flow, yeah, it never gets old I'ma talk my shit until I die, until I'm old Man, I'm growin' so quick like black mold Alexander McQueen mixed with Valentino I'm ahead of this game like I read the patch notes But the way that I do it, man, they think I hack though Think I hack, though Forever alone Know that I won't pick up if you blowin' my phone Charlie Sheen on the tip of my nose You on the edge of your seat and the tip of your toes I'm like, "Where to now, man, where do I go?" Man, it's feelin' like a Sunday, everyting's closed Everybody fake, so I keep the ting close The only real one is that FurCoatGhost