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    Pastor Troy / Lyrics

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    "Are We Cuttin?" Lyrics

    Pastor Troy feat. Ms. Jade

    [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

    [PT:] Oooooooh
    [Jade:] Baby what's your name?
    [PT:] Oooooooh
    [Jade:] Are you wearin Bugle Boy jeans?
    [PT:] (Hell naw!) Oooooooh

    [Jade:] I heard you was from Atlanta
    [PT:] Oooooooh
    [Jade:] But baby please excuse my manners, I just wanna know
    Are we cuttin'?!
    Are we cuttin'?!
    Are we cuttin'?!
    [PT::] Oooooooh
    Hell yea, hel- hel- hell yeah
    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 shit and tuck my clothes (cause I'm)
    Sharp as a knife, and this is the life
    Pastorrr, ya tell me how ya love that?

    Let a nigga see that pussy cat, 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, twurkin' wit
    I ammm low-key
    You don't wanna leave? (c'mon baby)
    You don't wanna go back to the suit (c'mon)
    Let you caress my feet, huh
    Now what you wanna know?


    [Verse 2 - Pastor Troy]
    Off the chain!
    Damn! Damn boo
    Where ya been all my lifetime?
    Let me fuck ya 'till 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 wassup when you came to the room
    Talkin' about getting' some free, She was!
    The-truth, Shawty got loose
    Sorry, but all I needed is a pretty red substitute


    [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)
    Henessy and the condoms, say they kissin' and grindin'
    It's all about the timin'; I, really like vice-versa
    But, tonight's much worsa', and um
    Philly chick you only travel wit for best of men
    Have me out in 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 convessin' how money make you undress
    And so tell me

    [Chorus] (2x) to fade
    This song was last modified on November 23rd, 2016.
    Copyright with Lyrics © Warner/chappell Music, Inc..
    Written by Chevon Young, Chevon D. Young, Micah Troy, Timothy Mosley, Timothy Z. Mosley.
    Lyrics licensed by LyricFind.

    Song Details

    track 4 on disc 2
    XXX [2002]
    Rank: (−)
    5.0/5 from 1 users
    Charts: view all »
    Referring urls:view all »


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