Hollow

[BLESS]
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