Tytuł: Are We Cuttin'

• Wykonawca: Pastor Troy
• Wyświetleń: 301

[Timbaland scratches throughout]
  
  [Intro: Pastor Troy]
  Ha-ha, ha-ha, come here girl
  Ha-ha, ha-ha, come here girl
  Ha-ha, ha-ha, come here girl
  Ha-ha, ha-ha
  
  [Chorus]
  [PT:] Oooooooh
  [CJ:] Baby what's your name?
  [PT:] Oooooooh
  [CJ:] Are you wearin Bugle Boy jeans?
  [PT:] (Hell naw!) Oooooooh
  [CJ:] I heard you was from Atlanta
  [PT:] Oooooooh
  [CJ:] But baby please excuse my manners, I just wanna know
  Are we cuttin'?! Are we cuttin'?! Are we cuttin'?!
  [PT:] Oooooooh, hell yea, yeah yeah yea
  Oooooooh
  She won't see tomorrow, if I don't cut tonight
  
  [Verse 1 - Pastor Troy]
  Yeah, Friday night (yeah)
  Yeah, ballin holmes (yeah)
  Got a nigga smellin fresh as a rose
  Grab my kicks and tuck my clothes (cause y'all!)
  Sharp as a knife, and this is the life
  Pastorrr, ya tell me how ya love that?
  Let a nigga see that pussy crack, where you at? (uh)
  The dance flo' (yeah) that's my shit (yeah)
  Baby girl let ya hair down
  Show a nigga what you workin wit, twerkin wit
  I ammm low-key
  You don't wanna leave? (c'mon baby)
  You don't wanna go back to the suite (c'mon)
  Let you caress my feet, huh
  Now what you wanna know?
  
  [Chorus]
  
  [Verse 2 - Pastor Troy]
  Off the chain!
  Damn! Damn boo
  Where ya been all my lifetime?
  Let me fuck ya 'til the sun shine (uh huh) uh huh (uh huh)
  What I do? (whoaa) Mind my bizz
  No I can't take ya home wit me
  Baby girl, it is what it is, show biz
  Saturday morn' (damn!) damn I'm weak
  Knew whassup when you came to the room
  Talkin about gettin some sleep
  She's the, the-truth, shorty got loose
  Sorry, but all I needed was a pretty red substitute
  
  [Chorus]
  
  [Verse 3 - Ms. Jade]
  What you talkin?
  I, bring heat when it's hawkin
  Cause I, can't stand a man that don't understand
  I'm weighing kilos and grams the bitch wit the upper-hand
  I'm, bout to kill it; you, dealin wit the realest
  Fuck the strawberry's and chocolate (ohh)
  Hennessy and a condom, say they kissin and grindin
  It's all about the timin; I, really like "Vice Versa"
  But, tonight's much worser, and um
  Philly chick you only travel wit for best of men
  Hand me out Atlanta just to see you in your belt and Timb's
  Pastor Troy, won't you just pass the boy
  In a, split second I'm answerin all questions
  You dummies are still confessin how money make you undress
  And so tell me
  
  [Chorus - repeat to fade]