O.T. Genasis ft Young Dolph - Cut It Lyric

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