Hollow lyrics

You shouldn’t holler if you hear me

You should holler if you don’t

So the knowledge, it’ll steer me 'til I’m searing through your pulse

If you follow on me clearly, then you better listen close

I’m hollow as a theory of a man who sees ghosts

Appearing with a fury, but it’s nothing he can hold

See, when a shell’s hollow and you stretch skin across

Hands beat it down and the drums starts to talk

The average city crow grows cold and unfolds into a black hawk

And all the alley cats and rats getting picked off

Plus all the trash that they live is ‘bout to kiss god

I treasure cleanliness. Been living with my junkie dogs

Who find it hard in their heart to give a fuck at all

Just got a penalty and still ain’t touched the fucking ball

It makes me wonder do I really want to play at all?

But if I quit that’d be a kiss on every haters’ jaw

And that’s never been the way I ever played at all

Stayed up late, woke up later and I made this song

And Sense had left the beat laying in the crate forgot

Went to China with his family while I just watched

Over the house like the mouse that you never caught

Always around but I hide cause I’m better off

You might catch me in the kitchen then I’m dead of course

Unless you’re scared and I run from your deadly force

But all I really want is something like a crumb of yours

And in exchange I’ll say what’s hidden in between the doors

See the walls don’t talk, but I do reports

I could tell you where this music is moving toward

Grabbed the beers and the blunts from the corner store

And dived straight into the crates on its own accord

And cracked every written book just to know the score

Sat in silence just to learn what the writing's for

I try to smile but the child is always wanting more

The old man always sleeps and only wants to snore

And I’ve risen out the grave on my accord

Still I’m caged by the pain, but I’m due reward

For all the bounties on the heads, that’s what I’m shooting for

I don’t want to win a battle just to lose the war

I’m up the river trying to paddle back to home court

Black Cadillac running on a half-quart

And I’m a make it on the fumes, since you asked for it

[Outro]x3

BLS, heart and soul to the marrow bone

Black crow feather of the tribe

We gon’ carry on

We gon’ carry on

• Artist:Shahmen