Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Sorry, artist - T.I..
Date of issue: 16.12.2012
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Grand hustle
Song language: English
Sorry |
My cup runneth over with Pinot Grigio, hold up |
You bogus in the lambo if you ain’t lifting the door up |
You bogus poppin' pills if you ain’t pickin' the ho up |
You bogus running out on your kids my nigga grow up |
For God’s sake, like a wedding, cutting large cake |
For large stakes let the hammer bang broad day |
Ay, nevermind what the blogs say |
This what my mind and my heart say |
My philosophy profit off of my properties |
Get it, flip it, we got to be rich, that broke shit is obsolete |
Possibly off of my rocker, watch how you watching me |
Sophisticated, psychotic, fly as a pilot |
Officially silent, all you wish you could get I got it |
Unlimited titanium nigga, what’s in yo wallet? |
Out of gladiator college, I made it summa cum laude |
While you clowns couldn’t have got a cap and gown if you bought it |
I parlay with Saudis, buying crude oil and diamonds |
Hustle January, July, fly to Dubai |
A broke nigga telling me 'bout how I’m dividing the pies |
Like a blind nigga telling me it’s an eye for an eye |
Bullheaded and stubborn I be that way until I die |
But find a nigga with more hustle than me I dare you to try |
And according to the hand on my Audemar |
It’s my time to shine so fuck y’all |
What should I be sorry for |
Who should I be sorry to |
What should I be sorry for |
Who should I be sorry to |
The fact is you can’t please everybody |
You can’t please everybody |
What should I be sorry for |
Who should I be sorry to |
I grew up in the gutter, life a motherfucker |
I get that why I don’t trust a motherfucker |
Seen a nigga snitch on they mom, shoot at they brother |
Go to prison in love with a bitch and a nigga fuck her |
I seen real G’s destroyed by real suckers |
Innocent ladies raped and defenseless babies abducted |
Such a horrible truth, but you see it over and over |
It’s nothing, you numb to it and your heart grow colder |
Pacify your pain with a chain and a Rover |
Fuck it, justify your action by stacking your dough up |
You show up with a brick of cocaine and baking soda |
Just enough for me to blow up, nigga hold up |
Switch the flow up, cause these niggas be snitchin' so much |
I promise all they missing’s the badge, coffee, and donut |
Go to jail so what, never see my integrity perish |
That ain’t the Harris' way, study my pedigree |
Promise I’m one of the only ones who keep it 100 |
Probably why I think they all out to get me, you can’t convince me |
Large money and fame will plant seeds of envy |
To make my partners resent me enough to come and get me |
Catch me slippin' and hit me, just like they did 50 |
Cause I’m in the position that he think he should be given |
Listen, dawg, the fact of the matter is |
I’m on a narrow path and we all can’t travel |
What should I be sorry for |
Who should I be sorry to |
What should I be sorry for |
Who should I be sorry to |
The fact is you can’t please everybody |
You can’t please everybody |
What should I be sorry for |
Who should I be sorry to |
What it ain’t, what it is? |
Even if you gotta live |
I learned that apartment is way more exciting than a big ass house on a hill |
I used to be a way better writer and a rapper |
When I used to want a black Karmann Ghia |
Now a nigga speeding in a Porsche |
Feeling like I’m going off a course |
Cut these fuck niggas off |
Nigga Tip in my life, scream that till I’m hoarse |
Duck these get the fuck off me projectiles, |
Bitch you ain’t really got a choice |
I’m living my life live yours |
I don’t even like rapping fast, but that’s how the word come to me |
Talk to me sideways nigga that’s your ass |
Slow it down, this that shit that’ll make you call your momma |
Say hey I’m sorry for begging for all them clothes you couldn’t afford |
And this the type of shit that’ll make you call your rap partner |
And say I’m sorry I’m awkward, my fault for fuckin' up the tours |
I hated all the attention so I ran from it |
Fuck it if we did, but I hope we ain’t lose no fans from it |
I’m a grown-ass kid, you know ain’t never cared about no damn money |
Why do we try so hard to be stars, just to dodge comments |
And this that shit that’ll make you call your baby mama |
When you gone on half a pill, don’t know why but that I did |
Then you take a flight back to the crib, y’all make love like college kids |
And you say all the shit you gon' do better, we can try this shit again |
'Round the time the dope wear off, you feel stupid, she feel lost |
That’s that dope, I mean, I mean dopamine you think Cupid done worn off |
Waiting in the hallway with her arms crossed |
Her baby boy face full of applesauce |
Maybe should have stayed but it ain’t yo fault |
Too much pressure, I fell off, I’m sorry |
Was young and had to choose between you |
And what the rest of the world might offer me, shit what would you do |
Well I’d probably do it differently if second the chance |
Only if some cool ass older man would’ve let me know in advance |
This, this quarry, that is dug so deep in a father’s chest |
When he feel that he’s broken up his nest |
And he figured shit he was just doing the best that he could |
Which end up being the worst that he could |
And all some pussy nigga on the internet can say is that verse ain’t good |
It’s boring — boring? |
Really? |
When I’m disgusted with this world and I can hardly breathe and |
Told so many lies, don’t know what to believe |
I discussed it with this girl, and this is what she said |
She said lay down baby, baby, rest your weary head up |
I love these distractions but my mind don’t wanna rest |
But my body disagree so I laid up on her breasts, yes |
Ooh, you are so fucking fine |
I woke up the next morning with new purpose on my mind |
Ooh, who pulls your ponytail |
Who knows your body well |
What should I be sorry for? |
Who should I be sorry to? |