King Tee - 3 Strikes Ya' Out Lyrics
{*whispered*}Love me.. give me love..Give me love food..Give me love, so that I can.. kill..Give me love, because I can.. kill..Hes not real.. (the devil) and she must die..Die.. (he is the son of man, he is the son of God){*beat drowns out whispered vocals*}[king tee]Three strike youre out theyre makin niggaz behaveNo more slaps on the wrist gettin 90 daysWelcome to the next level, its the new world orderSnatch ya like a tractor, might kill ya for a quarterI put that on my moms, thats on everything I loveNigga what? catch a l, make you cry like a doveSo sucka free is the only way for meYou dont get paid just for bein o.g.Weve been had, weve been tricked, weve been playedRight when we, went left, for what? we shoulda stayedStressed all the homies just to show they mean businessRushed em with the quickness, killed em with the sicknessTried to save his life, give him cpr, huhSomethin for the lungs, fat african drumsSo clear up your sinus and keep your nose cleanKhakis so hot it makes the one-time stop[chorus]Three strikes, youre out, then a nigga paysWe in the cage, black man is bein slayedThree strikes, youre out, then a nigga paysWe in the cage, black man is bein slayed[king tee]Get with the lyrical miracle whippin upGingerbread cookies out you rookies, huhI cant stands no more, grab the floorHit the deck when I let loose the tec (cmon)nique, freak any beat niggaWestside 106 (? ) street, uhhThe locos, chocolate like cocoaGet your punk-ass balled up in the trash (ahh!)You stepped on my stars, mother*****er say sorryThis wild styles like lion country safariThis is for my locs back at the ponderosaCheck my file, bring it to trialGet with that new, ninety-fo shitYes its funky like a jackass, dont even tripI got pages and pages of metaphoric phrasesToo complex for the human eye to catchIts the, gangsta boogie, do you want a exampleOr do you just wanna taste a sample?Out of control, gone, warped, zoned, tonedHand me the heater, I need the speakersSparks, flames, no name but peep gameSmoke like a choo-choo trainIts the criminal minded nigga king teeWith the westside riders, comin creepin crawlin like spidersWeve been bit by the dog, call the catcher stretcherJudge fletcher betcha, raise your blood pressureThe unsolved mystery, mixed up our historyPut us in the twist, we no longer exist, like.. dinosaurs dissapeared, then its like.. mine and yours dissapear, so its likeServin soon, here comes your doomRight when the world go ka-boom, so am iSane, or, sick in the brain?Or do everybody style sound the same? (yep)[chorus] - 2x[outro]Yeahh... beat terrorist.. (? )Tr, the funk ignitorMy nigga king tee with the funky west shit right?Check this out..Beat terrorist, beat terrorist, beat terrorist, beat terrorist, (? )
