Lyrics Momma I'm So Sorry - Main Version - Explicit - Clipse

Miami Vice, all my cocaine dreamers
Ya know
Miami Vice, Pusha spit this shit for yall
Here we go
Youngin don't make my sales rise
I shoot you out ya Chuckers
Pusha hear the whispers of all you motherfuckers
Papa said stay free of them suckers
Minus the wicked jumper
Street balla like the Rucker
Skip To My Lou if you lookin for a couple
Roosters in the duffle
Keep the hood screaming Cock-a Doodle Doo fuckers
Coke by the ton, rap niggas I'm the one
With basic rhyme pattern, how the fuck you tryin to chatta
ASIC ass rappers, got 'em runnin' for they life
I philosophize about Glocks and ki's
Niggas call me young black Socrates, West Indies
Bitch drop to knees quick.(what)
With dreams of being a rich man's bitch
Feel sorry for niggas, pull triggas and they shit click
So many bullets jammed in my shit, should call me lead-fist (leftist)
Shake the diamonds out my wrists
Mama I'm so sorry, I'm so obnoxious
I dont fear Tubbs & Crockett
Mama I'm so sorry, I'm so obnoxious
Got 2 hot rocks in my pocket
Mama I'm so sorry, I'm so obnoxious
Big home, palm trees, and watches
Mama I'm so sorry, I'm so obnoxious
My only accomplice is my conscience
Youngin, learn from me, let's not be at odds
Were more like than not, 2 peas of a pod
Same hustle, cept my hustle now flows
I once gave it away, at 30 grams a O
That accounts for all them days in the cold
Feels like kids and cake mix, can't wait to lick the bowl
But it's a bigger picture, homes trust I done seen it
From Frankfurt to Cologne, Oslo to Sweden
From Italy's Milan to the shores of Napoli
Now I consider Ferrari and Salvador Dali's
I'm no longer local, my thoughts are global
Thats why I seem distant, son expand ya vision
Even adored by Norwegian woman, blonde hair and blue eyes
I'm gettin back with a vengeance
Whip it like they want me all attached to the kitten
And they wonder in these raps if I'm kiddin... huh
Miami Vice
Sorry heavenly father, once again I hate to bother
It's P the evil creeper send some to the Grim Reaper
Meanwhile, me and my mrs. like Soloman and Sheeba
Sign of the times her Emilio Pucci sneakers. huh
Ghetto literature, I'd damn near die for Bolivia
It dont take much to get rid of ya, once I send for ya
Better call the minister... yuugh
I'm sorry Grandmama for mistakes I have made
When I aired family business, how you put me in my place
Even my baby mama, I can't look you in the face
Cuz I can't do enough, you a symbol of God's grace
So I place you in the flower bed, porcelain shower heads
Throughout the house and keep the youngin's mouthes fed
And when I'm gone, I hope it is said
I gave structure to the youth by the example I lead.huh