Andre Nickatina - 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 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

Written by:
ANDRE LAMOND ADAMS

Publisher:
Lyrics © Songtrust Ave

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