Ice Cube - 3 Strikes You In Lyrics
One mo strike and Im through, niggaBottom of the ninth swingin, for my lifeIm up at the plate, goin for the gateThey got my moms seated in section eightBeen on deck since my last felonyIm that 0 for 2 motha*****aWith the louisville sluggerShay whitie, that left hand punkIs on the mound and he comin wit dat off-speed junkIts the westside hustlaz, vs these la pigsYou can say the damned vs the nigsMy little homies in the dugoutThey lookin sad, cuz fourteen niggas done struck-outMy first offense was possession of weedNow Im in the major leagues andThat motha*****a bill clinton-is a son of a *****Had the nerve to throw out the first pitchIm just tryin to get rich like trumpThe home run king is now in a slump, pass me a hunkHow the ***** can I stay out the penWhen its one-two-three strikes you inChorus:One-two three strikes you inNow how the ***** a nigga supposedTo stay out the pen, Im on a blendOf gin and hen, everyday of my lifeWith two strikes it aint rightHes in the wind-upHere come the pitchI swing, aw shit (foul tip)They felt the chill cuz if I get on firstYou know the deal - a niggas gots to stealLike to steal home and I betchaThat I can run over, the la pig catcherJust because Im black, wit a batThey wanna send a nigga back to the warning trackFulla count they say I wont amount to shitBut fool I can hit like kenny gritWith a split in my mouth on tha cellular phone(its going, going, gone!)And watch a pitcher get servedYou from tha la pigsI know you coming with a curveAy batter, batter is the chitter-chatterIm the designated hitter, a niggaMuch badder, than babe ruthWill I tell the truth and nothing but the truthHell yea, Id rather be shootin hoopsCuz a niggas guaranteed to winAgainst a bullshit loss and three strikes you inTake me out to the ballgameTake me out to the crowd (wha what, wha what)Another nigga on trialKeep ya peanuts jeezuhAnd ***** you cracker jackI hope I never come backI gots to root for my homeboysIf they dont win its a shameCuz its one-two-three strikes you inTwenty-five years of pain you know my nameThey wanna nigga to run and get hungHigh strung, so this pig can win the cy-youngIma hit this motha*****a a mileIn the batters box, high as steve halYou cant salary cap my gatNo strike, cuz gangsta-rap is on the mapIm like satchel paige wit a gaugeOr jackie robinson, when Im robbin oneOf you cracker jacks fool Im a motha*****in vetAnd ***** yo seventh-inning stretch, soTake me out to the ballgame,And see my neighborhood nameIn your ghetto hall of fameChorus x 3Yea (it aint right)Playin people like a game (it aint right)Human beings, puttin em in a jar (it aint right)For double life, triple life (it aint right)Take me out to the ballgameTake me out to the crowd (wha what, wha what)Another nigga on trialKeep ya peanuts jeezuhAnd ***** you cracker jackI hope I never come backI gots to root for my homeboysIf they dont win its a shameCuz its one-two-three strikes you inTwenty-five years of pain you know my nameYou know my name (wha what, wha what) x 4If I die tonight, you know who did it (you know)If I ride tonight, you know who did it (you know)If they sheck me up, you know who did it (dont guess)If they check my nuts, you know who did it (get em)If they break my bank, you know who did it (yea)If they pull my rank, you know who did it (get em)If they sock me up, you know who did it (yea)If they lock me up, you know who did it (get em)If they smear my name, you know who did itIf they kill my game, you know who did itRemember me (you know who did it)Wha what, wha what (you know who did it)
