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R. Kelly - TP.3 Reloaded

R. Kelly...Yea, you know him...Mr. Super Freak himself. Maybe the freakiest human ever. And, not to be gross, but seriously...I wonder if dude has ever had sex with diarhea. I mean, who can say? Anyway, Yes, I've seen the tape. And, yes, I'm aware that that statement can, and probably will, land me in the Jig House for kiddie porning, but shit...if Kells aint locked up for doing The Whiz Kid all over a child's cheek, then surely they can't prosecute me for watching it 10 or so times, right? Geezus, I hope not.

Anywhoo, this album is entitled TP.3 Reloaded. Now, I'm pretty sure the 'T' is for Teen, and the 'P' is for Pee, but I'm not sure what the 3 is about. I guess there was a - Teen Pee Part 2 - I didn't know about. Whatever, lets go!!

Playa's Only ft. The Game
OK...Hells yea. This beat is hot like piss! Good strategy Kells. I'm totally not even thinking about your nasty little toilet tricks, you nasty little potty perv.

Also, The Lame is on here using the same line from one of his shitty songs. It goes: "Dr. Dre, unh!/ Found me in the slum." Now, let's stop right there. First of all, The 'Dr. Dre, Unh!' part is so super gay, my cripness won't even let me touch it. And as far as the, Dre finding you in the slum, part...Dude, no he didn't. You don't find milk in milk . It's all just milk. What I mean is, Game...you are slum. So, Dre just found you...like, sitting in a chair or something.

Happy Summertime ft. Snoop Dogg
Summertime? Now, when you think of summertime, what do you think of? Lemonade? Me too. This nigga's gross.

In The Kitchen
In The Kitchen... Now, if I know R. Kelly at all, this will probably be about boning a garbage disposal or some shit. Let's see...

Kells just mentioned something about bending his girl over the table while she is on her tippie toes. Now, tables are never any higher than 3 feet tall. Right? On her tippie toes? How the fuck old is this chick we're talking about?

Also, dude just said, and I quote: "Tickling and teasing, [making you] do that little dance." Little dance? What the fuck? What little dance? I'm glad I'm not familiar. This should be illegal.

Slow Wind
Skip. Don't even listen. Just skip.

Put My T-Shirt On
Put My T-Shirt On? Ut oh...Kelly sounding kinda scured, huh?

Well, sorry buddy. If you kiss, pee, or poop on children you deserve whatever you have coming. Kicking, shoving, and karate chopping is one thing, but treating children like Kiddie Litter is a no go. T-shirt or not, even an almost ass-naked, pissed-on teenie bopper is crossing the line.

Remote Control
Ok...this one is hilarious. Here R. sings about all the faboluous things that a remote control has in common with sexy-time. Here are few notables...

  "Try to imagine I'm the channel and you're in control"
  "Want me to go down and push your power button?"
  "Put me on slow...now fast fwd"
  "Girl push me in you and check out the features"
  "I'll keep going til you push the stop button"
  "Just let me put this adaptor in you, it will get you charged up"

LOL...this dude is a total nut.

Kickin It With Your Girlfriend
Kicking it with my girlfriend? You mean Jon Benet? She's not my girl, dude. And anyway, I think she's dead, which is even grosser.

Reggae Bump Bump ft. Elephant Man
Oh my goodness...this song is sooo super shitty, it's ridiculous. Actually, it makes me fucking angry. You deserve punishment, shitbag! I didn't want to have to do this, but I will...

Upon your first day in the cellblock, I'm gonna flood the mailroom with photos of this, you fucking punk!

Touchin ft. Nivea
Nivea? Isn't that some kinda lotion or something? Why dude would feature a bottle of the good stuff on this album is beyond me. And, anyway Kells, didn't you know that in the joint, a full bottle of the emotion potion can get you like, 50 billion cigarettes? Bad move, dude.

Oh, and sorry gang. I keep forgetting to talk about the songs, which is why we're all here. The beat on this one is pretty much the same as the In The Kitchen song. Not quite as tight, but still a cool song.

Hit it Til The Morning ft. Twista and Do or Die
Well, I guess this song ain't so bad either. R. Kelly is doing that sing/rap thing he does, Twista continues to motor mouth his way through every verse he touches, and Do or Die, of course, suck as usual. What the hell are they doing on here anyway? Guys, please. Just die. No more do. Ok?

Sex Weed
Yes, and Yes, please.

Love Is What We Make It
Love is what I make it? Me? Fucking awesome. Let me get my list out.

1. I don't like talking on Sundays. Not at all. It has nothing to do with love, ok? I'm making it that way.
2. There is nothing wrong with celebrating your birthday a couple days before or a couple days after. If Prince or Trick Daddy is in town on your birthday, I have to go. I make it that way.
3. You have no right to insist that I spend my birthday with you. It's my damn birthday. Bother me on your birthday.
4. Your birthday does not start at midnight and end at midnight. Stop piling on hours. Please go downstairs and get juice if you want juice.
5. New Years Eve is not Valentines Day. Do your own damn thing.
6. I'm going to Rio with Darnell and Calvin. You cannot come! I am making Rio not about love. We will go to the movies on Tuesday, ok? For love.
7. I don't like having sex more than once per night. I know alot of dudes do, but I don't. Leave me alone about that.

Burn it Up
Wow...Total suckage right here. On this one R. Kelly flexes his version of Reggaeton. Now, don't you have to be either West Indian or some sorta Messican to make this kinda music? Jackson-Americans, this isn't for you.

Girls Go Crazy ft. Baby (Lil Wayne's Dad)
This title needs clarification...Regular, sometimes fast/sometimes slow, sex make a girl go crazy. Not a power blast of pee, Mr. Kelly.

Bad song.

Trapped In The Closet - Chpt 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 & 8
Alright, Trapped In The Closet...Now, I'm sure by now, we all know what this is about. Because of that, I'm not going to actually review each joint. What I'll do is give a refresher course of the first installment and then go from there. Ok?

So, it all starts with R. Kelly waking up in some strange bitches apartment. Nothing wrong with that, right? But, before he can actually bounce on the freak like he's sposed to, her hubby comes home, forcing him into a little, tiny room of gay denial. Lucky for Kells, he came to see shorty strapped with more than just a condom. While Kell and his 9 mm Beretta are hiding in the closet, Hubby opens the door.

Ok...so, that's how the first installment ends. With Hubby opening the closet door. So, here is where I come in. What I'mma do is erase all subsequent volumes and fill in the story with my take on how shit shoulda gone down. Ya'll wit me? Word? Good. Let's go...

Alright. so here's my set up....Hubby opens the closet door, finding a cowering, but armed, R. Kelly sitting on the floor. Grabbing the beretta, Hubby fires one shot, striking Kells in the baseball hat. The baseball hat falls off...

R. Kelly -- Man, what the fuck? Gimmie my gun back.
Hubby -- What? Fuck your gun, punk! And don't you say fuck to me, scumbag!
R. Kelly -- Ok..sorry dude. But, why you trippin? What's going on?
Hubby -- No whys, either. No more fucks or whys from you. Now start talking!
R. Kelly -- Ok...ok man...sorry...but, what's up with the bullet in my hat? Why you do that?
Hubby -- Did you say why? Why you say why? You want more hot lead, punk?
R. Kelly -- No sir, I don't...I promise. But, how do I avoid saying why?
Hubby -- I don't know...you find a way! Maybe say how come, or something. Cuz next time you say that or the other word...Imma start pumpin gas, punk!
R. Kelly -- Pumping Gas?
Hubby -- Yea, Shooting Hot Lead!
R. Kelly -- Oh, ok...but, you know, most cars run on unleaded gas nowadays, so I was confused.
Hubby -- Yea, thats true...Um..well ok, Let me go back...
Hubby -- Ok, so next time you say that or the other word, I'm gonna start pushing pencils! Capeesh?
R. Kelly -- Yea, I follow that one.
Hubby -- Good, now empty your pockets.
R. Kelly -- Ok man, just don't shoot. Here. Take everything
Hubby -- OK, so let's see what we got here...keys, wallet-- Woah! You fucking sicko...What the fuck is this shit??!!
R. Kelly -- That? Oh, That's nothing!
Hubby -- Asshole, I know nothing when I see it. This is something.
R. Kelly -- Um, well, why you all in my business, man?
Gun - [Click-Clack] (gun cocks)
R. Kelly -- Shit!! Did I say why?
Hubby -- You're deadmeat!
R. Kelly -- Wait! Why-Takebacks! Why-Takebacks!
Hubby -- Too late, sucka!
Gun -- BLAM BLAM!!!!
R. Kelly -- Awww, man! Both boots? You shot both of my boots! Now they're ruined. No one sells just Timberland soles by themselves. How come did you do that?
Hubby -- You shut your mouth!
Hubby -- Now, I'm gonna ask you some questions, punk...and I want to have them answered immediately!
R. Kelly -- Ok.
Hubby -- Cats or Dogs?
R. Kelly -- Huh?
Hubby -- Don't you huh me! Cats or Dogs, punk? Which are better?
R. Kelly -- Um, cats, I guess.
Hubby -- Ok, good. Now that song...You Remind Me Of My Jeep, who was that really about? Missy?
R. Kelly -- Oh, well actually, that was about my new truck. It was red. Just like my old jeep. I miss that jeep.
Hubby -- Right. Makes sense. Next question: That song, Ignition...you said, Gimme dat toot-toot/Gimme dat beep-beep. Who gave you the right to make a song like that? Missy?
R. Kelly -- That one, I can't really explain. I was trippin' with that.
Hubby -- Yes, you were. So, last question...Fat homeless people...explain that to me. How could a poor bum stay so chunky?
R. Kelly -- Man, I have no clue. Seems impossible. I guess, I don't have an answer for that.
Hubby -- Very good. You guessed right. There is no answer for that.
R. Kelly -- Um...ok. So, now what?
Hubby -- Well, you've done very good, so cmon...get outta the closet. And, sorry about your hat and boot soles. I be buggin' sometimes.
R. Kelly -- So, you mean, me and you are square?
Hubby -- Square as a nerd.
R. Kelly -- Wow, what a relief. But, what about my gun?
Hubby -- Oh, yea...here you go.
R. Kelly -- Thanks, dog. Now, I know this might be weird, but since we're cool and all, I was thinking...why don't we hang out sometime?
Hubby -- Don't get smart, punk! If you want to question me, you do it right!
R. Kelly -- Right. I meant, how come we don't we hang out sometime?
Hubby -- Mostly, because you're a fag.
R. Kelly -- Gotcha. Well, ok.
Hubby -- Ok.
R. Kelly --Well, I'm up outta here then. Take it easy, bro.
Hubby -- I will. You do the same.

You see? Who needed all those extra chapters? Anyway, I'm gone, bitches.

3.5 out of 5









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