(The Cosmos)
Mix it up, pour a cup and I sip it up (yeah)
We lit as f*ck, I hit your bitch with the dick-in-butt (woo)
Lil bit' a slut, she a tease
Now that lil hoe on her knees
Pull out that chop, make you freeze
Point at a opp like, "Say cheese"
He gon' get shot like a three
I call my clockey-
I call the glocky-ocky KD
If he wanna walkie-talkie
This shit could get hot like Taki
Now we just caught a body
Now that lil boy, he dead
Sorry, not f*ckin' sorry
I'm finna let it fly
Send him up to the sky
Who the f*ck do this guy think he is?
Talkin' that tough jive out his lips
All right, that's enough bud, now I'm pissed
I'm finna rough him up with the blick
I'm finna up it up from the hip (grah, grah)
Yeah, yeah, yeah
You better believe it
Cause if I have to come and make you see it
You ain't never gon' see shit again
I don't know what's up with you men
Until we pull up asking what you meant
I bet you forget what you said
Jordan 11 covered all in red
You would think I had on breds
Now he wanna go and get the feds
So they could put me all up in the press
He tried to run, I shot him in his legs
Now the lil boy not goin' anywhere
He better hope he got some Medicare
Put him in the dirt, yeah, he's better there
His bitch a flirt, told her, "Come in here"
I'm a hustler, somethin' like I'm Larry Flint
She treat my dick like a cherry stem
She know nobody compare her to me
I'm on her body like Vaseline
She finna come put that ass on me
After I'm done, I just pass the B
Then I go sip on a glass of G
Mix it up, pour a cup and I sip it up (yeah)
We lit as f*ck, I hit your bitch with the dick-in-butt (woo)
Lil bit' a slut, she a tease
Now that lil hoe on her knees
Pull out that chop, make you freeze
Point at a opp like, "Say cheese"
He gon' get shot like a three
I call my clockey
I call the glocky-ocky KD
If he wanna walkie-talkie
This shit could get hot like Taki
Now we just caught a body
Now that lil boy, he dead
Sorry, not f*ckin' sorry
Sorry, not f*ckin' sorry
Sorry, not f*ckin' sorry
Now that lil boy, he dead
Sorry, not f*ckin' sorry
Sorry, not f*ckin' sorry
Now we just caught a body
Now that lil boy, he dead
Sorry, not f*ckin' sorry
Johnny Broadway - SORRY! Lyrics
Johnny Broadway - SORRY! Lyrics
Official
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(The Cosmos)
Mix it up, pour a cup and I sip it up (yeah)
We lit as f*ck, I hit your bitch with the dick-in-butt (woo)
Lil bit' a slut, she a tease
Now that lil hoe on her knees
Pull out that chop, make you freeze
Point at a opp like, "Say cheese"
He gon' get shot like a three
I call my clockey-
I call the glocky-ocky KD
If he wanna walkie-talkie
This shit could get hot like Taki
Now we just caught a body
Now that lil boy, he dead
Sorry, not f*ckin' sorry
I'm finna let it fly
Send him up to the sky
Who the f*ck do this guy think he is?
Talkin' that tough jive out his lips
All right, that's enough bud, now I'm pissed
I'm finna rough him up with the blick
I'm finna up it up from the hip (grah, grah)
Yeah, yeah, yeah
You better believe it
Cause if I have to come and make you see it
You ain't never gon' see shit again
I don't know what's up with you men
Until we pull up asking what you meant
I bet you forget what you said
Jordan 11 covered all in red
You would think I had on breds
Now he wanna go and get the feds
So they could put me all up in the press
He tried to run, I shot him in his legs
Now the lil boy not goin' anywhere
He better hope he got some Medicare
Put him in the dirt, yeah, he's better there
His bitch a flirt, told her, "Come in here"
I'm a hustler, somethin' like I'm Larry Flint
She treat my dick like a cherry stem
She know nobody compare her to me
I'm on her body like Vaseline
She finna come put that ass on me
After I'm done, I just pass the B
Then I go sip on a glass of G
Mix it up, pour a cup and I sip it up (yeah)
We lit as f*ck, I hit your bitch with the dick-in-butt (woo)
Lil bit' a slut, she a tease
Now that lil hoe on her knees
Pull out that chop, make you freeze
Point at a opp like, "Say cheese"
He gon' get shot like a three
I call my clockey
I call the glocky-ocky KD
If he wanna walkie-talkie
This shit could get hot like Taki
Now we just caught a body
Now that lil boy, he dead
Sorry, not f*ckin' sorry
Sorry, not f*ckin' sorry
Sorry, not f*ckin' sorry
Now that lil boy, he dead
Sorry, not f*ckin' sorry
Sorry, not f*ckin' sorry
Now we just caught a body
Now that lil boy, he dead
Sorry, not f*ckin' sorry
Mix it up, pour a cup and I sip it up (yeah)
We lit as f*ck, I hit your bitch with the dick-in-butt (woo)
Lil bit' a slut, she a tease
Now that lil hoe on her knees
Pull out that chop, make you freeze
Point at a opp like, "Say cheese"
He gon' get shot like a three
I call my clockey-
I call the glocky-ocky KD
If he wanna walkie-talkie
This shit could get hot like Taki
Now we just caught a body
Now that lil boy, he dead
Sorry, not f*ckin' sorry
I'm finna let it fly
Send him up to the sky
Who the f*ck do this guy think he is?
Talkin' that tough jive out his lips
All right, that's enough bud, now I'm pissed
I'm finna rough him up with the blick
I'm finna up it up from the hip (grah, grah)
Yeah, yeah, yeah
You better believe it
Cause if I have to come and make you see it
You ain't never gon' see shit again
I don't know what's up with you men
Until we pull up asking what you meant
I bet you forget what you said
Jordan 11 covered all in red
You would think I had on breds
Now he wanna go and get the feds
So they could put me all up in the press
He tried to run, I shot him in his legs
Now the lil boy not goin' anywhere
He better hope he got some Medicare
Put him in the dirt, yeah, he's better there
His bitch a flirt, told her, "Come in here"
I'm a hustler, somethin' like I'm Larry Flint
She treat my dick like a cherry stem
She know nobody compare her to me
I'm on her body like Vaseline
She finna come put that ass on me
After I'm done, I just pass the B
Then I go sip on a glass of G
Mix it up, pour a cup and I sip it up (yeah)
We lit as f*ck, I hit your bitch with the dick-in-butt (woo)
Lil bit' a slut, she a tease
Now that lil hoe on her knees
Pull out that chop, make you freeze
Point at a opp like, "Say cheese"
He gon' get shot like a three
I call my clockey
I call the glocky-ocky KD
If he wanna walkie-talkie
This shit could get hot like Taki
Now we just caught a body
Now that lil boy, he dead
Sorry, not f*ckin' sorry
Sorry, not f*ckin' sorry
Sorry, not f*ckin' sorry
Now that lil boy, he dead
Sorry, not f*ckin' sorry
Sorry, not f*ckin' sorry
Now we just caught a body
Now that lil boy, he dead
Sorry, not f*ckin' sorry
Writer: John Mitchell II
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid