Cut It

Album: Rhythm & Bricks (2015)
Charted: 35
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  • Yeah, yeah

    Cut it, cut it, cut it, cut it
    Cut it, cut it, cut it, cut it
    Them bricks is way too hot, you need to cut it
    Your price is way too high, you need to cut it
    Cut it, cut it, cut it, cut it
    Cut it, cut it, cut it, cut it
    Them bricks is way too hot, you need to cut it
    Your price is way too high, you need to cut it

    Run up them bands on the regular (cash)
    Hittin' my plug on the celly, yeah
    Tell my ex bitch that I'm sorry (my bad)
    I'ma skate off in the 'Rari
    Keep 36 by my side (my side)
    Imma go bake me a pie
    Keep 45 on my side
    Fuck with my niggas, you die
    All of my niggas say blood
    All of my niggas say cuz (yeah)
    OT, I found me a plug
    I got it straight out the mud
    Keep it a hundred, no bullsh-
    I fell in love with the drugs
    Bustin' it down in the tub (coke)
    Pay me my money in dubs
    Water whippin', lookin' like I'm fishin'
    Baseball in kitchen, with my arm I'm pitchin'
    Rolie on, it's glistenin', and my darling, kissin'
    Niggas steady trippin' so I'm steady grippin'
    Dirty money on me, got a scale up on me
    I don't fuck with phony, 'bout to sell a pony
    All these niggas on me, all these bitches on me
    Say my price is good, motherfucker, show me

    Cut it, cut it, cut it, cut it
    Cut it, cut it, cut it, cut it
    Them bricks is way too hot, you need to cut it
    Your price is way too high, you need to cut it
    Cut it, cut it, cut it, cut it
    Cut it, cut it, cut it, cut it
    Them bricks is way too hot, you need to cut it
    Your price is way too high, you need to cut it

    Went and bought a nine-eleven with my trap money
    A million up but still ain't never touch my rap money
    I'm out in LA fuckin' with that boy OT (what's poppin'?)
    Flew to LA, got a plug on that OG
    You know I've been gettin' money if you know me (you know that)
    When I first met my plug, I told him I piss a hundred Gs (what?)
    I ain't comin' to get it unless you got a hundred piece
    I don't want it, fuck it, your price, you need to cut it
    Your ice, you need to tuck it, she fuck with me, she lucky
    A half a million, all 20s in that Gucci luggage
    Let's skip the small talk, it's time to talk numbers
    Young nigga playin' with commas, might go get a Lamb' for the summer
    I've been outchea in these streets all my life hustlin' (fo' real)
    My nigga beefin' then I'm beefin', wrong or right I'm bustin'
    My traphouse, I love it (I love it)
    Put some Forgis on my old school and I had to gut it (what?)
    But should I put a roof in?

    Cut it, cut it, cut it, cut it
    Cut it, cut it, cut it, cut it
    Them bricks is way too hot, you need to cut it
    Your price is way too high, you need to cut it
    Cut it, cut it, cut it, cut it
    Cut it, cut it, cut it, cut it
    Them bricks is way too hot, you need to cut it
    Your price is way too high, you need to cut it Writer/s: Adolph Thornton, Montre Edmonds, Odis Flores
    Publisher: EMPIRE PUBLISHING, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Songtrust Ave, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, THE ADMINISTRATION MP INC, The Administration MP, Inc., UBEM (União Brasileira de Editoras de Música)
    Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind

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