Beyonce – Sorry Lyrics
Sorry, I ain’t sorry Sorry, I ain’t sorry I ain’t sorry, nigga, nah Sorry, I ain’t sorry Sorry, I ain’t sorry I ain’t sorry
He trying to roll me up (I ain’t sorry) I ain’t picking up (I ain’t sorry) Headed to the club (I ain’t sorry) I ain’t thinking ’bout you (I ain’t sorry) Me and my ladies sip my D’USSÉ cups I don’t give a fuck, chucking my deuces up Suck on my balls, pause, I had enough (Sorry, I ain’t sorry) I ain’t thinking ’bout you I ain’t thinking ’bout
Middle fingers up, put them hands high Wave it in his face, tell him, boy, bye (Sorry, I ain’t sorry) Tell him, boy, bye, boy, bye, middle fingers up I ain’t thinking ’bout you
Sorry, I ain’t sorry (You) Sorry, I ain’t sorry (You) I ain’t sorry, nigga, nah I ain’t thinking ’bout you Sorry, I ain’t sorry Sorry, I ain’t sorry, I ain’t sorry No, no, hell nah
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Now you wanna say you’re sorry Now you wanna call me crying Now you gotta see me wilding Now I’m the one that’s lying And I don’t feel bad about it It’s exactly what you get Stop interrupting my grinding (You interrupting my grinding) I ain’t thinking ’bout you
Sorry, I ain’t sorry I ain’t thinking ’bout you I ain’t thinking ’bout you Sorry, I ain’t sorry I ain’t thinking ’bout you I ain’t thinking ’bout you
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Middle fingers up, put them hands high Wave it in his face, tell him, boy, bye (Bye) (Sorry, I ain’t sorry) Tell him, boy, bye (Bye), boy, bye (Bye) Middle fingers up, I ain’t thinking ’bout you
Sorry, I ain’t sorry Sorry, I ain’t sorry I ain’t sorry, nigga, nah Sorry, I ain’t sorry Sorry, I ain’t sorry I ain’t sorry No, no, hell nah
Looking at my watch, he shoulda been home Today, I regret the night I put that ring on He always got them fucking excuses I pray to the Lord you reveal what his truth is
I left a note in the hallway By the time you read it, I’ll be far away I’m far away But I ain’t fucking with nobody Let’s have a toast to the good life Suicide before you see this tear fall down my eyes Me and my baby, we gon’ be alright We gon’ live a good life Big homie better grow up Me and my whoadies ’bout to stroll up I see them boppers in the corner They sneaking out the back door He only want me when I’m not there He better call Becky with the good hair He better call Becky with the good hair
