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FTP3 Lyrics by Don Rello

2015

[Intro]
Got your sister ass naked at the gas station
Nipples lactating with her back breaking, she a bad patient
The last operation, had her dad wasted
Had his ass looking like a bad breakup, (SPLIT UP)
Family prolly think he masturbatin in the shower
But he really cowered in the corner for atleast an hour
It’s a powerful thing, to have that cowubunga ringtone
Throw a beat down just to show you how to ring hoes

[Verse 1]
Sneak peek, to the pre-show
With a fee lower than the trees in the spring
Going in like a free throw, wait it's O'Neal
So I guess I'm missing that shit
Finna be an underground classic
Take it off the rack, just to bury the plastic
Can't tag me in a picture, cause the various masks I wear
Scaring all the bitches with my terrible bad-breath
I'm spazzing, finna be an underground classic
Massive attacks on the fuckers in my past
That's the last of 'em, I got your mother wearing drag too
Got a tattoo of a monkey doing mad shrooms
Pupils dilated to the size of a half moon, -
Rap's truth, so my brother ain't a bad dude
He just sniffin coke off the crack of a baboon
I sat through it, laughing at the fan moving
Brother doing lines like a fan favorite movie
A tan two piece, on your girl when she sweatin
When I picture her without it, I done seen it already
Penis on the wrong setting, skeeting confetti
A celebration for a bust, like I'm squeezing some titties
And if you think I rep my city, that's a laughable fact -
I’d rather act like Saginaw is where my residence at
Attending class to graduation is a difficult task
My afternoons are filled bastards that could kill for a nap
And I could kill for a napkin, to wipe that grin off your face
I'll keep erasing at your brain till you be shitting in place
And if I get to second base, you know I'll race to the plate
I'll put your neck behind my razor like I'm shaving my face
I'll get you cut, this is rap division and I'm the tenant
My rent is overdue, it's cause my minutes are limited
Got the president interested, my business is intimate
Cause my dick is in your vision when you've finished the listening
I'm the peasant, my debts to the record
My only severance when my pencil got no lead in the end of it
My assessment is ten, bitch
I'll never get less than it
Sent a letter to the heavens to let me in
Reminiscent of BIG's shit, he never lived
He gave a listen to my tape and begged for Death again
Pessimistic my wrist slit, my dick's in it
Satan sent an invitation, I'm accepting it

[Verse 2 - Outro]
After you and I go at it
I'll get into psycho habits
I just might go rabid
Like a cat exposed to biohazardous-
-Chemicals, I get into medical school
Just to pedal a fool, to give me his extra seditave tubes
Yes I'm a Scrooge, ruining Christmas for the mentally screwed
Got this dude Raul and he be producing edible music
Chew into a CD and you'll see me in bed in the nude
Bet I'll get sued by the student who really doing it too
But ill excuse myself from the booth when the judge gives a cue
Prove it to the fool the accused had never stepped in the room
That a doobie? Pass it to me
Grabbed a groupie's ass
But then I gagged because her crack was poopy
Had to grab a tissue cause the bitch was laughing at a movie
Hopped into a cab to Chattanooga, had to pass the cooties
Stabbed the hooter's cooter
Cause her boobs were looking flat and droopy
Packed her moving body under the mattress
I'm napping through it
Say it back to me and don't lose me within the action
Imagine you doing badder
Than the one who actually rapped it to you
Sad to see you flabbergasted, I asked you to rap it back
Now grab the magic mic
And slap a dyke to prove you have the passion
Back is in a spasm, my laughing caused an asthma attack
Grabbed a bag and started gasping just to hack a sack of plastic
That's what happened, I swear I get some ass in bathroom
You ain't ever seen it, cause my semen's in her ass, Pastor
I'm asking for forgiveness, this is me, I'm repenting my lyrics
Spirits are my witness, I'm flipping the script, my hitlist is written
If this isn't under ya skin in a minute
I'm getting abundance of spinach to finish ya'
This is my number ya' midget, now get a touch, I never judge
What the fuck?
You got bigger buns than bitches I never could fuck with
I'm livid you munchkin, she punched in the stomach
I'm clutching my nuts cause they kicked up my gut
And I'm huntin' the bitch so I could stick her in the oven, uh
Hey, you the guy on the Wheatie box, surprisingly teeny cock
You decided you need a swap, just to hide it between your crotch
You a guy for the teeny boppers, you're Miley when she was papa's
The molly that she droppin that 'prolly increased her profit
Common to see you sobbin', the problems are in your father, Billy
So I can take you back to my car and we can drive out to Philly
But I all I got is a permit, so my momma's having to ride it wit' me
Maybe you can hop on the charter?
Heard they stoppin for whiskey
Pardon me, I think I'm lost within my train of thought
Took a couple stops and now I'm positive my brain is throbbing
Dropped a couple songs on the carpet, now they're leaving a stain
Once you read my name on Spotify, never see it again
Beavis getting trained just to butt heads, seething from pain
Wonder what's for supper? Think I'll order red beans on a steak
Dreaming of cake tho, cause everyday is my date of birth
Making sure she sees me naked first, I'm been thinking of her
This is part three of the first verse I'd ever pitch him
Swore the only reason I started was that Jordan was shittin'
We was spittin' back and forth
And I responded with some boring writtens
Shit was in a paragraph format and boy was it hideous
That's when Mrs. Betsy let me in to start a record label
Me, a poker table, and German, we invented the fable
Got some tasty pop, and a laptop with extension cables
Larry Cable Guy burger pot-chips, terrible flavor
Adrian and I were vibing seperate, called Rapocalyptic
I was positive that dropping writtens was a poppin' business
We was optimistic, a lot was missing, but not our friendship
Let me introduce you to music, I call it 96
Credits

About “FTP3” by Don Rello

Read the complete lyrics to "FTP3" by Don Rello in 2015. On Lyrks you can follow along with the full text, explore the artist's discography, and discover related songs. The track is often categorized under Rap.

"FTP3" is performed by Don Rello. in 2015 This page provides the full lyric text for fans who want to sing along, study the songwriting, or compare versions across releases. Lyrks organizes lyrics by artist and song slug so you can bookmark and share a stable URL. Music lyrics help listeners connect with emotion, narrative, and rhythm in a track. Whether you are learning English, researching a favorite chorus, or preparing for karaoke, having accurate line breaks and section labels (verse, chorus, bridge) makes the experience easier. We link to the official artist profile on Lyrks where available, including biography snippets, top songs, and chart placements when we have that data. If you enjoy "FTP3", explore more songs by Don Rello using the links below. Chart and trending pages on Lyrks highlight what listeners are searching for this week. For copyright or correction requests, see our DMCA and contact pages.

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Frequently asked questions

"FTP3" is credited to Don Rello. Songwriting credits may include additional writers listed on the release; check the credits section on this page for linked collaborators.

Album information for "FTP3" is not available in our database yet. You can still read the full lyrics on this page.

Visit the Don Rello artist page at /artist/don-rello for biography, popular tracks, and links to more lyric pages.


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