Текст песни Ghost Of Fillmoe

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 rhymeAndre Nickatina - Ghost Of Fillmoe - http://ru.motolyrics.com/andre-nickatina/ghost-of-fillmoe-lyrics.html
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