Really Sorry

Lyrics

[Verse] Yeah, uh Just call me back Front side crooked on the flat bar Lines in my head flash past like a fast car Autobahn speed break the dial on speedometer Too many miles cracked a smile for odometer Whipping' in a rental car from Avis Trumpet on my arm call me Kilometres Davis I f'd all of your A-list Skipped the whole playlist Rock a beat faceless, but the patience of a sage is Safe to say, I played the game, I'm over it Flavoring ways will waste away your ownership Copy, paste your haste and come up short again It pays to know your place, I'm in the audience As I flip a Tom penny into the wishing well Arto be starry as I'm Geoff to kiss a tell Uh, I'm Salabanzi with the Ponzi Scheme You couldn't rattle off names from a radder team A dope lad but I'm not from the PJ's Laying wit' your lady in an Appleyard BJ's for days Casted as the room for the DJ's Blast the trade bomb and Los Angeles raise Uh, Ali Boulala Land 25 stairs, I ain't lying out in France Feeling on the handrail, lying in some vomit Cast claiming they grinding, in reality they're grommets, honest I am really sorry for my contents I'm trauma with the offense as you trauma with your comments I hit clips from a minute like Cerezini Shops to Bones and Biggie, eating toast with my linguini Uh, I'm Johnny Rotten with the monologue An antichrist with the ambiance, only joking I'm only smoking just on occasion Rest assured when I'm Tokyo, I'm looking Asian Viet-nah, I'm only playing Your Beijing, color that is Asian like raisin Raising the flat bar just a notch She's just a crush looking for some crotch, why not? I be like Roger Klotz the way I bully with you big in the past tense Lines over my head looking like back in the days Racking up plays, but remained underground Hogs stay in the plains that were mazed, and I'll say it again Sorry Mushroom graphic on my board, face foggy Fourth place, probably Back when Spitfire was a hobby with the bearings Now I spit fire, it's apparent I give a new definition to airy Glifberg in the bowl with [?] learning to transfer Independent with my credits Subtle balance, watching wheels turn over granite I'm moving mountains now that Lance is understanded I'm the new-school old-school level two rampant Rebel caused champion Bevel gloss stamping Never used hands on the meaning of my landing I grip tapes and pass sticks after shows It's the only way I know to show the pros I understand shit Fast playing, while the competition's boneless Now that's how you flip a beat, shout out to Bones Swiss