Sorry

[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Get it, flip it, we got to be rich, that broke shit is obsolete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?