| I woke up quick, at around two
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| Jumped in my Benz, picked up DJ Screw
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| Boys out there, makin' them tapes
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| Separate the real niggas from the fakes
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| My boy just got out, did a flat ten
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| And he just can’t stop talkin' bout that pen
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| My best friend but time destroys all men
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| Now he don’t give a fuck about goin' again
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| It ain’t all good but I ain’t missin' no money
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| I’m just a thug motherfucker and you can’t take nothin' from me
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| Somebody once said they wanna see me dead
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| The next week they found the boy with two holes in his head
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| I break bread with my killas in the H-TX
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| It’s the SP-Mex, in the all black stretch
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| Known for my purity, pride and security
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| A house costs as much as one piece of my jewelry
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| 'Cuz the boys on the cut don’t give a fuck
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| You come talkin' that shit, your eyes get shut
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| Boys out there, slangin' that yay
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| Only pussy motherfuckers say that crime don’t pay
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| 'Cuz the boys on the cut don’t give a fuck
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| You come talkin' that shit, your eyes get shut
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| Boys out there, slangin' that yay
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| Only pussy motherfuckers say that crime don’t pay
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| The time has come and the day is here
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| Two thousand one, is my motherfuckin' year
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| I come from the head, it’s the boy named Los
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| The one that got everybody on they toes
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| Straight up and still I sell dope for a livin'
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| In the form of a compact disc, fuck prison
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| No more savin' cans, no more collectin' pennies
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| I’ll have your fuckin' clique hollerin' «Who killed Kenny?»
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| For my gangsta bitch that I just met
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| She ridin' my dick, chuckin' up her set
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| I dance with the wolves, this is for my hood
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| Got the whole world fiendin' for the dope I cut
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| 'Cuz the boys on the cut don’t give a fuck
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| You come talkin' that shit, your eyes get shut
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| Boys out there, slangin' that yay
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| Only pussy motherfuckers say that crime don’t pay
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| Fire, we on fire
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| We ain’t gone stops droppin' these bombs
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| Fire, we on fire
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| We ain’t gone stops droppin' these bombs
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| I was twelve years old when I did my first jack
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| And I don’t think that bitch ever got her purse back
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| With fifteen rocks, I bought my first car
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| Cooked my first batch of dope in a pickle jar
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| It’s like uno, dos, tres, young Happy Perez
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| Got me sellin' this dope to anyone on two legs
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| Boys talkin' down but I give two fucks
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| Step in my face, I put you in an all-black tux
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| Layin' in a casket, hard as a rock
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| My lead, hit’cha head and make it snap, crackle, and pop
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| Now how many times do I have to tell ya?
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| All my life I’ve been called a failure
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| My freestyle flow, is so untouchable
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| I just got out the county jail two months ago
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| Now I’m in the studio, just like Julio
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| In the city where them bitches never won a Super Bowl
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| Man I can’t stop, I’ma keep on droppin'
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| Seven of my bitches at the same mall shoppin'
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| At the galleria, tell me have you seen her?
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| I fuck a country singer and a Houston ballerina
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| Plus a fine ass China, I used to be a dreamer
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| Now I bought my Mom and Dad a navigator and a beamer
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| Leave a mark in this game, Aztec Indian
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| I don’t give a fuck 'cuz every month I make a million
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| Fire, we on fire
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| We ain’t gone stops droppin' these bombs |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Boys on da Cut , by - SPM. Song from the album Pocos Pero Locos Presents: The SPM Hits, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп