Ghostwhirl (feat. MF Doom)

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J-Toth from Hoth

4:15

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Well here we are again just you and me
I don't need a friend, maybe two or three
That's me myself, and I, happiness will 
Be awhile until I remember how to freestyle right
Man, I see bland faces, floating next to me
Is this my destiny?
Hope not, or I might throw up, to lose the recipe
Man, I sure can stay inside my head
And play dead, like night of the living white dreads
Who want to be angry, but them seem frightened
Sort of reminiscent of clash of the teen titans
I used to have a girlfriend, but it was 
Time to go
When she was trying to show
How much hate she could still taste from things that happened awhile ago
It was wearing thin, but I can be a trifle slow
Especially on a tourniquet that should've stymied her flow
I never earned her full bliss, it went wrong
But my permagrin is quite strong, like 500, 000 miles long
Cry on, cause 
I'm like the swan
And if this mic is on
I guess I might stay on long enough to write this song
Yeah, right, it's hype, get your clothes girl
I don't have the time or mood to make your toes curl
No more open mics? No sir
Ever since you laid the cold hurt, it's a ghost world

Next, a strict regiment of sets on the bowflex
Chromium to mold flesh and wheat grass to show the rest
Meditation and some slow stretching
Let the mind go to rest when necessary, speaking of which, no sex
It's a time to heal, not a time to hate
And don't try to keep it real in such a sad state
Just be depressed for a sec, and if it ends late
Be like yay! I made through to the next day
The best say, you can't stay in one place too long
The rest say, you're gay if you still like those old love songs
The test press day is now, I best press play and taste the sound
Just in case I see a queen and want to checkmate her style
And we could just embrace, or ride out
But right now, I'm still looking for love inside my hideout
It's really nothing to cry about
But when I'm out patience with my mistakes, it's like, God, get the white-out!

What a messy fuss, it happens to the best of us
Love/hate to raise the heart rate up to your chest to bust
And leave you with just enough stress to cuss
Ooh trouble, two's a couple, three's treacherous
And got you open like the high seas
Hoping like these for the squeeze on live G's
Jive turkeys, they lucky if they survive the depths of hell, it's murky
Jerky, come on work with me
See how she's twerking the skirt with tits perky
A flirt with a smirk that could body you in one shot glance
And let 'em rot, I'm like, not a chance, hot pants!
Run feet, and keep from off front street
That sizzle like the blunt heat, with business that's for under sheets
Creep on secret missions, peep it
Or else be in some deep shit, with more fishes to sleep with

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