Hollow, hollow, hollow, hollow Where my drawers is Where my sax is Where the sauce is Where the progress Hollow, hollow, hollow, hollow Where my drawers are Where my sax is Where the sauce is Where the progress Hollow, hollow, hollow, hollow My shippy Ralph Lauren, it ain't no Michael Kors I feel like Ralph Lauren, I been had the horse I was bad and the cash, it made me worse I got a bag, you a bitch, you got a purse Hollow, down to the *** floor Ran me up a check, yeah, bitch, I want some more I be drugged out in the studio, press record I like bitches on the bed, the money on the floor Hollow, hollow, hollow Took, took, took too many drugs, now I'm feeling loco Got a Glock with a dick, bitch, no homo I was posted in the band, no chillin', smokin', rockin' Hollow, hollow, hollow, hollow