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    [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

    [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
    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?


    [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


    [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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