Thru' The Cut

We on his head wit', uh
(Cullen, Cullen) We on his head wit', uh
We on his head wit', uh
We on his–, uh
We on his–, ahh
We on his–, ahh
We on his–, ahh
We on his–, ahh

We on his head with a K
I done fell in love with cake
Fuck yo' gang, I'ma add a K
I gotta run, told my shawty "Ready?"
She don't want me, she wanna turn away
We just landed in LA, yeah
Owe me money, make him pay up
He took a pay cut
Let me count so more racks, I get paper cuts
I wanna sit back, I ain't made enough
I wanna sit back, I ain't made enough
Say it with your chest, say it with ya gut
We got AR's, fuck what ya got
Hop up in the car, slide thru' the cut (Cut)

(No, no)
My niggas slidin' in broad day
We finna go to LA and catch that nigga lackin' on Broadway
Don't want no shit up in my way
I can't lie bitch, you ruining my day
Oh, but she wanna come up to my place
Hope my niggas forgive me, my grams
And my bullets gon' give 'em a migraine
Smoking za, you ain't smoking on my strain
First class, you ain't riding on my plane
I know she not a thing to me
They know I'm keeping that thing with me
Why he hating? He really a fan of me
And I know you went out with your friends, I see
We ain't cool, you told me I'm your "Friendamie"
I guess that we on to enemies

We on his head with a K
I done fell in love with cake
Fuck yo' gang, I'ma add a K
I gotta run, told my shawty "Ready?"
She don't want me, she won't turn away
We just landed in LA, yeah
Owe me money, make him pay up
He took a pay cut
Let me count so more racks, I get paper cuts
I wanna sit back, I ain't made enough
I wanna sit back, I ain't made enough
Say it with your chest, say it with ya gut
We got AR's, fuck what ya got
Hop up in the car, slide thru' the cut (Cut)