Hollow
You shouldn’t holler if you hear meYou should holler if you don’tSo the knowledge, it’ll steer me 'til I’m searing through your pulseIf you follow on me clearly, then you better listen closeI’m hollow as a theory of a man who sees ghostsAppearing with a fury, but it’s nothing he can holdSee, when a shell’s hollow and you stretch skin acrossHands beat it down and the drums starts to talkThe average city crow grows cold and unfolds into a black hawkAnd all the alley cats and rats getting picked offPlus all the trash that they live is ‘bout to kiss godI treasure cleanliness. Been living with my junkie dogsWho find it hard in their heart to give a fuck at allJust got a penalty and still ain’t touched the fucking ballIt makes me wonder do I really want to play at all?But if I quit that’d be a kiss on every haters’ jawAnd that’s never been the way I ever played at allStayed up late, woke up later and I made this songAnd Sense had left the beat laying in the crate forgotWent to China with his family while I just watchedOver the house like the mouse that you never caughtAlways around but I hide cause I’m better offYou might catch me in the kitchen then I’m dead of courseUnless you’re scared and I run from your deadly forceBut all I really want is something like a crumb of yoursAnd in exchange I’ll say what’s hidden in between the doorsSee the walls don’t talk, but I do reportsI could tell you where this music is moving towardGrabbed the beers and the blunts from the corner storeAnd dived straight into the crates on its own accordAnd cracked every written book just to know the scoreSat in silence just to learn what the writing's forI try to smile but the child is always wanting moreThe old man always sleeps and only wants to snoreAnd I’ve risen out the grave on my accordStill I’m caged by the pain, but I’m due rewardFor all the bounties on the heads, that’s what I’m shooting forI don’t want to win a battle just to lose the warI’m up the river trying to paddle back to home courtBlack Cadillac running on a half-quartAnd I’m a make it on the fumes, since you asked for it[Outro]x3BLS, heart and soul to the marrow boneBlack crow feather of the tribeWe gon’ carry onWe gon’ carry on