Pastor Troy - Are We Cuttin' lyrics

(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 n***a 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 n***a see that p**y crack, where you at? (uh) The dance flo' (yeah) that's my sh** (yeah) Baby girl let ya hair down Show a n***a what you workin wit, t**n 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 f** 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 wha**up 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 b**h wit the upper-hand I'm, bout to k** it; you, dealin wit the realest f** 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 pa** 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]