ghost of fillmoe - andre nickatina lyrics
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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
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