T.I. — 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my mind and my heart say My philosophy: profit off of my properties Get it, flip it, we got to be rich, that broke shit is obsolete Possibly off of my rocker, watch how you watching me Sophisticated, psychotic, fly as a pilot Officially solid, all you wish you could get—I got it Unlimited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?