Veyster - I'm Sorry (feat. Dreskii)

Bring your friends, we're eating five star later
I can't show my face, cause I'm on papers
Swear to god, swear to god
I'm sorry
You can't hit my cup
We ain't going on no dates, but you can suck me up
I ain't in to none of that cuffing, none of that funny stuff
Bro got the glocky in the function, that's a tummy tuck
I run it up, me and Dreskii on this bitch, we like number one
You said you want to slide, I hope you niggas got a hundred guns
I don't want to sign, unless I'm seeing like a hundred some
I'm looking at your gang, and I'm seeing like a hundred bums
Slide up on her story, on IG, you know I'm fucking some
We just hit your mans, you bought a chain, nigga died for none
Fifty in the chop, miss all your shots, you can't shoot for nothing
How you got a glock, but you don't shoot it, nigga stop the bluffing
Yeah, I beat her down, don't know my name, she call me McLovin
Vey just rolled a wood, I swear to god, he like Doc Mcstuffins
Dre just poured a line, I take my time, nigga I'm not rushing
Talking crazy pay a fine, I slime this bitch out with no repercussions
Shorty, I just got the head from your friend, I ain't even fuck it
Deep all in her guts, this bitch geeking, this bitch got to gushing
I was high as hell, in reality, I would never touch it
I'm like what the fuck do this bitch see in me, I guess I really does this
Your nigga died, sad sight, I can help you out
Nigga please, don't start with me, causeI'll to hawk you down
Swear to god, niggas only hard, when the hoes around
Brodie stole a whip, and he blew it up, he owe twenty thousand
Brodie stole a whip, found a glock, call it lost and found
Always keep a ski, hop out of the whip, we going to gun him down
I don't give a fuck, about none of you hoes, I let them run around
Beating it off a pill, from the back, I go a hundred rounds
Caught him outside, without his stick, he's a fucking clown
Pussy boy I wet you broad day, and I won't make a sound
This bitch told her friends I was a dog, I took her to the pound
It's crazy it really be the broke niggas, that be talking loud
Like do we got a problem? Bro don't get me started
Dreskii really be the first to spark it, and the last to park it
Trying to trap my name up in them cases, look I'm just an artist
She said she went to Harvard, dumb as hell, head game retarded
Bitch crazy, I ain't lace you, bitch I'm fucking facing
In Miami we were in and out of traffic, like we fucking racing
This Asian bitch her family hate niggas, I swear this shit so crazy
It's crazy only reason I ain't fuck, she want to have my baby
Dre come talk to me
This shit so outrageous
Little bro think he going to tax me, like bro I'll see you later
I know exactly why they're mad at me, cause they don't see no paper
Shoot this bitch from hella deep, like Lillard on the Blazers
I just dropped a pack off to my mans, he's a five star player
Hit my nigga Noah for the cuts, he's giving five star tapers
They be hella mad on instagram, niggas five star haters
I said shorty bring your friend and tag along, we're eating five star later

Written by:
Diondre Hail, Vey Womack

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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