Uh...Hello...New mixtape b**h...Iz called Da Drout 3 (laughs)...
Yeah...This was supposed to be the intro, but uhm...
I guess ima gonna uhm...Do what yall came here for...
(in Rastafarian voice)
Yeah...Rasta dem king of the jungle,
Dread lock swing down me back like Reppunsle.
My bread don't swing. Dem packs in a bundle;
We'll take your tings, sell it back to your uncle.
And we'll make it rain till your dances will come true;
We'll make it rain so you betta bring a swimsuit.
Alone when I came, but I'm leavin with them two;
Gals give me brain, give me brain like temples.
And him got the game, game sharp like a pencil;
And if you want formage we can crash like a symbol.
And Let prepare me window, on my new sports coupe;
twelve hoarses in the hood, sittin on hoarse shoes.
Come from the land that Jesus walked through;
Sacrifice me life, man I bleed for me uncle.
Them no want to run, run with me them no want to;
Murder them, and the family them belong to.
Next ting them kno I run a street like a cardoor;
You go after me, me I dearly depart you.
Hip hop is mine now, Mine what you gone do?;
I can jump on any n***a song and make a part two.
Playtime for me, cuz see to me, they are cartoons;
how come every joint be on point like a harpoon?
How come evry bar stand strong like a barstool?;
how come every line is so raw you gone snort too?
Murder them. Man I murda them. F**k a competition, man I murda them.
Man murda them. Man I murda them. F**k a competition, man I murda them. (laughs)...
(in regular) and that is why i'm hot...
Its Da Drought 3, Welcome.
Have fun!