BET Uncut (October)

[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](x2) 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 blood to call me Or in a room at the Fontainebleau, blowin' tree Flippin a young blonde bitch's stomach, call that Marley and Me