Текст песни: Ghost of Fillmoe + перевод

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

Перевод песни Ghost of Fillmoe