We'll round it all up in a second. Lost Town, I look like Casanova. Money on my account, I buy a new house. Holes on my toga and with the gun. Holes on my skin, it's the fault of fashion. It's the fault of fashion. Mom, I'm blonde. Half a kilo in the ass of my brother. It's the fault of drugs. It's the fault of fashion. We'll die beautiful between *** and coke. I want to make dirty money like my soul. Counting laws on the pyjama. Cop, cop, cop, our thing, Franco, Rosa and Mafia. My life is a video game like Grand Theft Auto. All eyes on me. Cop, cop, like a black man in Tokyo, like the Tokyo Death. Dress of Orphan, of Chanel. Baby, drugs, ***, bags and candies. Sextoy. Confoy. Bullboys. Foyer. Don't tell me enough, that I push more. Don't tell me enough, that I push more. All hard on ***, trapper. My colors on the holes on the socks. Vegan like an influencer with big lips. Bitches with syrups for the cough. I see a football, I think I did well. I want to die full of lipstick. With the holes in the face, I cut them like emo. I'm Italy and I'm extraterrestrial. I have new places and I don't look like ours. Doing new stuff is too much ours. Holes on the face, too much coke in the bag. Holes in the brain, it's the fault of drugs. I have new places and I don't look like Casanova. Money on my account, I buy a new house. Holes on my togangi with the gun. Holes on my skin, it's the fault of fashion. It's the fault of fashion. Mom, I'm blonde. Half a kilo in the ass of my brother. It's the fault of drugs. It's the fault of fashion. We'll die beautiful between ***s and coke. We'll die beautiful between ***s and coke.