OFB - Sorry Not Sorry lyrics

Published

0 238 0

OFB - Sorry Not Sorry lyrics

[Intro: Bandokay] M1 on the beat Bando Ay ay Gang sh*t Yo [Verse 1: Bandokay, Double Lz & Loski] I still need P like Diddy, if you ain’t got P, you’re ready Go wet man down like a jersey, I’m praying he ends up in a telly He got assault tryna come out and welly, sticky, now he got holes in his belly Take off bare trap get shelly, swear I’m the one, I ain’t talking Headie (One) (Ay) Slow down miss, you’re too inner, don’t worry about how many mans in my chinger 180 degrees that dinger, I’m sorry not sorry like Bryson Tiller (Spin it) I remember that day was a thriller, bro popped off, blood flow like a river Four man, two shanks, one spinner, the driver’s looking around for a figure Duck, I ain’t tryna box right now No way you’re akhz, send bro right ’round I gave Key leng and it gave her clout fu*k that drop, no dingers about Fill it, fill it, bring that out (Mooh, glee) Air that now He ain’t got heart but he got bare mouth Fashion killer, she love my style (Ay ay) (Yo) [Verse 2: Bandokay, Double Lz & Loski] Them men ain’t got heart like Kevin, he’s leaving his brethren, like slow down my yute Feds swear they ain’t screaming Pyru, typhoon or a vesper tryna find you We don’t rap nonsense, I ain’t like you Fight who? Bro wet that, it went right through (Ching ching) Free Slim Jim, he don’t fight too, pretty old one, told brother she’s like you Pretty and bad, pretty and mad, sad, if you ain’t got no guap (Brass) Moment of silence, I heard that the yute got done in the shop Girl on my block and they love milly rock, flex with gang, send hits in New York Stop, two got hit in their top, send enough for corn on every opp block Just see opps so spin the car ’round, bloaw, that’s how the spinner gon’ sound Two hands on this thing like the Queen in the south, don’t mean no b*tch tryna beaten it out Cutie a thing, we gon’ skeet it around, my ching chong sauced, I’m cleaning it down Drip drip, that’s great, gunshot one reason to help Man grew up in the farm estate, best guard your face when I blast that gauge In the car with a star, no wraith, gonna dig man’s rast, make him Harlem shake I don’t know ’bout them, we don’t par with the jakes Man roll with the red, they’re target face Don’t come into man, you ain’t styling or brave Could be the wrong path and the last you take Creep, who’s tryna let that speak? Skeet (Skee), she all on me Christian Lou’, rude skeet She rude and dead, move, leave Teddy with a bruckshot, big man jump off, we won’t do womp ups, let that breathe The gyal gets shy when I’m in that scene, she can’t get cuffed if she from IG Your boyfriend bad, but Loski badder, mazza, big skee skee your spragga Trapper, school days Hannah Montana Dance, turn any boy Mick Jagger Run up where? Send shot, get badder Ain’t ching sh*t for the block and manor Bob the Builder, up that ladder There’s scrap pack, not Michael Dapper [Outro: Bandokay] Bro just got the drop on the opps, slap bells on the Glock and I’m beating this shotty Copy, done it ASAP like Rocky, done it and ’caused mans stress in Totty (Bare stress) My lil’ bro love splashing, a hobby, tell him cooled down, get rich like Roddy (Ricch) Bodies bodies, we drop bodies, sorry to say we’re not sorry