Ghost Of Fillmoe Lyrics - Andre Nickatina

I like your mind, your body, your soul, your figure 

Catch ya, hold ya, squeeze you like a trigger 

Mind full of rap gun powder, it's a habit 

Shootin' like Elmer Fudd at the screwy rabbit 

From pennies to nickels, from dimes in the rhyme 

Get your paint brush and line your design 

It might be a little bitter on top of Sugar Hill 

But the ones that got killed say it's real on the field 

From the sky 

Ghost of Filmoe, what