T.I. — Sorry feat. André 3000

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Текст T.I. — Sorry feat. André 3000

[Verse 1: T.I.]
My cup runneth over with pinot grigio, hol’ 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
Ayy, never mind 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Get it, flip it, we got to be rich, that broke shit is obsolete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 solid, all you wish you could get—I got it
Unlimited titanium, nigga, what’s in your wallet?
Out of gladiator college, I made it summa cum laude
Where 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’ll be that way ’til I die
But find a nigga with more hustle than me—I dare you to try
And according to the hand on my Audemars (Audemars)
It’s my time to shine, so fuck y’all (Fuck y’all)
[Chorus: Stacy Barthe]
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?

[Verse 2: T.I.]
I grew up in the gutter, life a motherfucker
I guess that’s why I don’t trust a motherfucker
Seen a nigga snitch on they mom, shoot at his brother
Go to prison, in love with a bitch, and a nigga fuck her
I seen real Gs 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 with stacking your dough up
He 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 snitching so much
I promise all they missing’s a 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 a hundred
Prol’ly 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 slipping 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
[Chorus: Stacy Barthe]
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?

[Verse 3: André 3000]
What it ain’t? What it is?
Even if you gotta live
I learned that apartment’s 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 (Woo!)
Now a nigga speeding in a Porsche (Ahh)
Feeling like I’m going off a course (Ahh)
Cut these fuck niggas off
Negative in my life, scream that ’til I’m hoarse (Woo)
Duck these, get the fuck off me, projectiles
Bitch, he ain’t really got a choice (Mmm)
I’m living my life live yours (Ahh)
I don’t even like rapping fast (Ahh)
But that’s how the world come to me
Talk to me sideways, nigga, that’s your ass
Slow it down
This that shit that’ll make you call your mama
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 (I ran from it)
Fuck it if we did
But I hope we ain’t lose no fans from it (No fans from it)
I’m a grown-ass kid, you know
I 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’s how it is
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 dopamine, I mean dope—
I mean, you think Cupid done worn off
Waiting in the hallway with her arms crossed
Baby boy face full of applesauce
Maybe should have stayed but it ain’t yo fault
Too much pressure, I peel 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? (I was 21)
Well, I’d prob’ly do it differently if second the chance
Only if some cool-ass older man
Would’ve let me know in advance
There’s this quarry that is dug so deep in a father’s chest
When he feel that he’s broken up his nest
And he figures, 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»
[Break: André 3000]
It’s boring? Boring?
Really? Hahahaha

[Bridge: André 3000]
When I’m disgusted with this world and
I can hardly breathe and
Told so many lies, I 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,» ugh
A lovely distraction, but my mind don’t wanna rest
But my body disagree, so I laid up on her breast, yes
«Ooooh, you so fucking fine,» I
Woke up the next morning with new purpose on my mind
«Ooooh, who pulls your ponytail?
Who knows your body well, huh?»

[Outro: Stacy Barthe]
What should I be sorry for?
Who should I be sorry to?