Uh...Hello...New mixtape bitch...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 nigga 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. Fuck a competition, man I murda them.

Man murda them. Man I murda them. Fuck a competition, man I murda them. [laughs]...

[in regular] and that is why i'm hot...

Its Da Drought 3, Welcome.

Have fun!