Lyric Are We Cuttin

(feat. Ms. Jade)

[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]