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lirik lagu boys on da cut – spm

1st verse:
i woke up quick, at around 2: 00
jumped in my benz, picked up dj screw
boys out there, makin’ them tapes
separate the real n-gg-s from the fakes
my boy just got out, did a flat ten
and he just can’t stop talkin’ bout that pen
my best friend, but time destroys all men
now he don’t give a f-ck about goin’ again
it ain’t all good, but i ain’t missin’ no money
i’m just a thug m-th-f-cka and you can’t take nothin’ from me
somebody once said they wanna see me dead
the next week they found the boy with two holes in his head
i break bread with my killas in the h-tx
it’s the sp-mex, in the all black stretch
known for my purity, pride, and security
a house costs as much as one piece of my jewelry.

chorus:
cuz the boys on the cut don’t give a f-ck
you come talkin’ that sh-t, your eyes get shut
boys out there, slangin’ that yay
only p-ssy m-th-f-ckas say that crime don’t pay. [x2]

2nd verse:
the time has come, and the day is here
two thousand one, is my m-th-f-ckin’ year
i come from the head, it’s the boy named los
the one that got everybody on they toes
straight up, and still i sell dope for a livin’
in the form of a compact disc, f-ck prison
no more savin’ cans, no more collectin’ pennies
i’ll have your f-ckin’ clique hollerin’ “who killed kenny?”
for my gangsta b-tch, that i just met
she ridin’ my d-ck, chuckin’ up her set
i dance with the wolves, this is for my hood
got the whole world fiendin’ for the dope i cut.

chorus:
cuz the boys on the cut don’t give a f-ck
you come talkin’ that sh-t, your eyes get shut
boys out there, slangin’ that yay
only p-ssy m-th-f-ckas say that crime don’t pay.

breakdown [ayana m.]:
fire…
we on fire…
we ain’t gone stop…
droppin’ these bombs… [x2]

3rd verse:
i was 12 years old, when i did my first jack
and i don’t think that b-tch ever got her purse back
with 15 rocks, i bought my first car
cooked my first batch of dope in a pickle jar
it’s like uno, dos, tres, young happy perez
got me sellin’ this dope to anyone on two legs
boys talkin’ down, but i give 2 f-cks
step in my face, i put you in an all-black tux
layin’ in a casket, hard as a rock
my lead, hit’cha head and make it snap, crackle, and pop
now how many times do i have to tell ya?
all my life i’ve been called a failure!
my freestyle flow, is so untouchable
i just got out the county jail two months ago
now i’m in the studio, just like julio
in the city where them b-tches never won a super bowl
man i can’t stop, i’m a keep on droppin’
seven of my b-tches at the same mall shoppin’
at the galleria, tell me have you seen her?
i f-ck a country singer and a houston ballerina
plus a fine -ss china, i used to be a dreamer
now i bought my mom and dad a navigator and a beamer
leave a mark in this game, ask ted indian
i don’t give a f-ck cuz every month i make a million.

breakdown [ayana m.]:
fire…
we on fire…
we ain’t gone stop…
droppin’ these bombs…

- spm

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