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!