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Are We Cuttin (Pastor Troy)

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Are We Cuttin (Pastor Troy)

Lyrics for Are We Cuttin (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]

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