Текст песни 3 Strikes Ya' Out - King Tee

3 Strikes Ya′ Out

{*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.
He's 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 you′re out they're makin niggaz behave
No more slaps on the wrist gettin 90 days
Welcome to the next level, it's the new world order
Snatch ya like a tractor, might kill ya for a quarter
I put that on my moms, that′s on everything I love
Nigga what? Catch a L, make you cry like a dove
So sucka free is the only way for me
You don′t get paid just for bein O.G.
We've been had, we′ve been tricked, we've been played
Right when we, went left, for what? We shoulda stayed
Stressed all the homies just to show they mean business
Rushed ′em with the quickness, killed 'em with the sickness
Tried to save his life, give him CPR, huh
Somethin for the lungs, fat African drums
So clear up your sinus and keep your nose clean
Khakis so hot it makes the one-time stop

[Chorus]
Three strikes, you′re out, then a nigga pays
We in the cage, black man is bein slayed
Three strikes, you're out, then a nigga pays
We in the cage, black man is bein slayed

[King Tee]
Get with the lyrical miracle whippin up
Gingerbread cookies out you rookies, huh
I can't stands no more, grab the floor
Hit the deck when I let loose the tec (c′mon)
′Nique, freak any beat nigga
Westside 106 (?) Street, uhh
The loco's, chocolate like cocoa
Get your punk-ass balled up in the trash (AHH!)
You stepped on my stars, motherfucker say sorry
This wild style′s like lion country safari
This is for my loc's back at the Ponderosa
Check my file, bring it to trial
Get with that new, ninety-fo′ shit
Yes it's funky like a jackass, don′t even trip
I got pages and pages of metaphoric phrases
Too complex for the human eye to catch
It's the, gangsta boogie, do you want a example
Or do you just wanna taste a sample?
Out of control, gone, warped, zoned, toned
Hand me the heater, I need the speakers
Sparks, flames, no name but peep game
Smoke like a choo-choo train
It's the criminal minded nigga King Tee
With the Westside Riders, comin creepin crawlin like spiders
We′ve been bit by the dog, call the catcher stretcher
Judge Fletcher betcha, raise your blood pressure
The unsolved mystery, mixed up our history
Put us in the twist, we no longer exist, like
. Dinosaurs dissapeared, then it′s like
. Mine and yours dissapear, so it's like
Servin soon, here comes your doom
Right when the world go ka-boom, so am I
Sane, or, sick in the brain?
Or do everybody style sound the same? (Yep)

[Chorus] - 2X

[Outro]
Yeahh... beat terrorist. (?)
TR, the funk ignitor
My nigga King Tee with the funky West shit right?
Check this out.
Beat terrorist, beat terrorist, beat terrorist, beat terrorist,
(?)