Sorry lyrics

by

Izaya Tiji


[Intro]
(Zee, you going crazy)

[Hook]
Sorry, sorry you can't get your hoe back
Sorry, sorry you can't get your bro back
Sorry, sorry that I sold you prozack
Yeah, run 'em down, now n*gga can't even go back
Gun 'em down, I’m tryna see holes in his lil' neck and back
Peel ‘em with them gunna sounds
How he gon' get away? His tires flat,flat,flat,flat,flat

[Verse]
I'm ready for war b*tch you can't even stomach that
He want smoke with me, ain't got no strap, how he gon’ blow it back?
I keep a knife with me, if he ain't gon' get shot he gon' get stabbed
These n*ggas trifling, no, I can’t even touch em, can’t een dab em
I know why he so sad
I’m on his sh*t like a rat
I wanna put him in my pack
And then smoke ‘em till I can’t (Haha)
A n*gga might just jugg the bank
Skrt up, then go fill my tank
I'm too damn up, that’s why they hate
50 pints up in the crate
If they ain't listen', he late
Pull up with nina, then I skate
f*ck her, but don’t call her bae
I smoke 10 woods everyday
20 racks up in ya face
You on that side? You better stay
I’m too low, but you know I’m straight
These pus*y n*ggas fall for bait
Yeah, i’m blowing ice cream cake
pus*y n*gga smoking shake
We finna put that boy away
Son just put ya toys away
She a b*tch like Coi Leray
Don’t crack my seal, I’m on the way
If we gotta run ‘em down, we gon go a different way
Caught that n*gga fumbling' then he drowned, yeah them hollows in his face
I'm chillin' n*gga, I just lounge while this lil’ hoe give me face
Only thing I love is money, lil hoe, you know I can’t chase
sh*t I had to run it in , running into deep cause it’s a race
And we just flip then spin, flip then spin on him and spit in his face
My choppa bang like spinz, my chop bang like spinz 808
That boy say anything, I just sit back 'cause it’s all fake
My n*gga seeing red, he cannot feel nothing, nothing
[Hook/Outro]
(Freestyle sh*t, b*tch)
(Shoutout Zee)
(Zee, you going crazy)
Sorry, sorry you can't get your hoe back
Sorry, sorry you can't get your bro back
Sorry, sorry that I sold you prozack
Run 'em down that n*gga can't even go back
Gun 'em down , I’m tryna see holes in his lil' neck and back
Peel ‘em with them gunna sounds
Now he can’t get away, his tires-
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