R. Kelly has no shame. In the real world, that's a bad thing, as demonstrated by his reptilian fetish for school girls too young to legally drive away from his Chi-town sex lair. In the real world, it's also an embarrassing thing, as when his paranoid diva antics incite members of Jay-Z's crew to shoot some pepper spray in his eyes.
| TP.3 Reloaded |
Just to show the dudes that he's also looking out for them, Kelly offers this nugget of wisdom to men who whine about losing their ladies to playas like him: "If your game ain't tight, don't bring your woman to the motherfuckin' clubs, dog." Those of us with slack in our game will forever be grateful.
Most attention will focus on this album's concluding, five-part soap opera, "Trapped In the Closet," in which Kelly gets busted with another woman, who busts her husband with another man, before Kelly drives home and busts his wife with a cop who gave him a speeding ticket. You could tell that story in about eight seconds, but Kelly manages to stretch it to 16-and-a-half mind-melting minutes, with sung dialogue too stupid to believe, but too shameless to resist.