Foreign Music

Robb Bank$ – Bet Uncut MP3 + LYRICS

Robb Bank$ Latest song titled Bet Uncut. Download mp3 from given link below.

LYRICS

[Verse 1: Young Neil]
Make up on the pillowcase
Hickeys on the neck
I told you not to leave it I’m tryna keep us a secret
Not because you ain’t good enough I love yo ass to death
Just I don’t trust myself and girl you shouldn’t really either
But you, do
You stay around
You got my back
I lay you down
We right back at it
Fuckin like some addicts
Somehow shit just happens
And you light one up say it enhance the passion
That’s all you lookin for
Girl that’s all you really need
Substituting passion with the feeling when I’m in between
We can’t be
Not with the type of dream I’m tryna reach
Can’t rap bout fuckin these hoes if I got a girl at home (like Hov)
So I feel wrong when we back with each other under covers and I’m askin her all of a sudden
You can’t take it yo heart breakin cause you realize what the truth is
And I stop playin stupid shit you really ain’t that clueless
And these hoes tryna get to know a nigga
Bitch I’m more interested in what you tryna show a nigga
I take the music and the fame look I really can’t concern hoes
I’d die without my team
Rest in peace Joe Paterno
Hook
Bet I’m rollin she let me fuck
Bet me ten I leave with a dub
Bet I put my hands underneath the soap suds in the tub and I swere off after I fuck
She know that a real nigga know wassup
She want that BET Uncut
Play Boosie light candles and roll up
She want that BET uncut
Now pop that pussy for me (Like a stripper)
Just pop that pussy for me (Like a stripper) [x5]
Bitch pop that pussy for me (Like a stripper)
[Verse 2: Robb Bank$]
Bounce that ass one time for the savage
One Xan’ and you can’t stop laughin
Your dad would be mad if I fogged out his maybach so don’t even ask what the fuck I been ashin
Im off krokodil and a sherm stick call Carmen for her connect’s number
And this Cali bitch want me to fuck her like pics she reblog on tumblr
Got a free spirit trapped up in the hood
Got a grip up on that handle
Got a white girl that dance with white girls who keep my choppa in her satchel
Color coordinating my money into purple green and yellow
And she ain’t a real hipster bitch if her hair ain’t purple green or yellow
On my hip you see that magnum
The hips on that bitch like I took her out a Maxim
And that gold herringbone shine give her flashbacks of that Magnum
Hit my dope boy phone I send the telephone number
Took her on a trip to Guatemala just to drive she copped a Hummer
Maxed out her daddy’s black card
And this ain’t jibberish on my freshjive
Hoodie, lil bitch
That’s my credit card number
Cracked the window so ‘trol could smell the cigs
Smoke coulda bring pictures you paint to life, not even in chalkzone
Bitch I’m coppin paintings from Takashi Murakami
While I’m taking Hollister off Holly
And poppin molly’s with Molly
And I ain’t gon apologize when I say you fuck niggas is sorry
I’m in a rocking chair, waiting on my fuckin plug to call me
Or in a room at the Fontainebleau, blowin’ tree
Flippin a young blonde bitch’s stomach, call that Marley and Me

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