Uh… Hello… New mixtape bitch… Is called Da Drout 3 [laughs]… 

Yeah… This was supposed to be the intro, but uhm… 

I guess I’m a gonna uhm… Do what ya’ll 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, cause 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… 

It’s Da Drought 3, Welcome. 

Have fun!

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