3 Strikes You In Lyrics
| Song | 3 Strikes You In |
| Artist | Ice Cube |
| Album | War & Peace Volume 1 (The War Disc) |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Hearne, Ice Cube, Johnson | |
| One mo' strike and I'm through, nigga | |
| Bottom of the ninth swingin, for my life | |
| I'm up at the plate, goin for the gate | |
| They got my moms seated in section eight | |
| Been on deck since my last felony | |
| I'm that 0 for 2 mothafucka | |
| With the Louisville Slugger | |
| Shay Whitie, that left hand punk | |
| is on the mound and he comin wit dat off-speed junk | |
| Its the Westside Hustlaz, vs these LA Pigs | |
| You can say the damned vs the nigs | |
| My little homies in the dugout | |
| They lookin' sad, cuz fourteen niggas done struck-out | |
| My first offense was possession of weed | |
| Now I'm in the major leagues and | |
| that mothafucka Bill Clinton-is a son of a bitch | |
| had the nerve to throw out the first pitch | |
| I'm just tryin' to get rich like Trump | |
| The Home Run king is now in a slump, pass me a hunk | |
| How the fuck can I stay out the pen | |
| When its one-two-three strikes you in | |
| Chorus: | |
| One-two three strikes you in | |
| Now how the fuck a nigga supposed | |
| to stay out the pen, I'm on a blend | |
| of Gin and Hen, everyday of my life | |
| With two strikes it ain't right | |
| He's in the wind-up | |
| Here come the pitch | |
| I swing, aw shit (foul tip) | |
| They felt the chill cuz if I get on first | |
| You know the deal - a niggas gots to steal | |
| Like to steal home and I betcha | |
| That I can run over, the LA Pig catcher | |
| Just because I'm black, wit a bat | |
| They wanna send a nigga back to the warning track | |
| fulla count they say I won't amount to shit | |
| But fool I can hit like Kenny Grit | |
| With a split in my mouth on tha cellular phone | |
| (It's going, going, gone!) | |
| And watch a pitcher get served | |
| You from tha LA Pigs | |
| I know you coming with a curve | |
| Ay batter, batter is the chitter-chatter | |
| I'm the designated hitter, a nigga | |
| much badder, than Babe Ruth | |
| Will I tell the truth and nothing but the truth | |
| Hell yea, I'd rather be shootin' hoops | |
| Cuz a niggas guaranteed to win | |
| Against a bullshit loss and three strikes you in | |
| Take me out to the ballgame | |
| Take me out to the crowd (wha what, wha what) | |
| Another nigga on trial | |
| Keep ya peanuts Jeezuh | |
| And fuck you Cracker Jack | |
| I hope I never come back | |
| I gots to root for my homeboys | |
| If they dont win its a shame | |
| Cuz its one-two-three strikes you in | |
| twenty-five years of pain you know my name | |
| They wanna nigga to run and get hung | |
| high strung, so this pig can win the Cy-Young | |
| I'ma hit this mothafucka a mile | |
| In the batters box, high as Steve Hal | |
| You can't salary cap my gat | |
| No strike, cuz gangsta-rap is on the map | |
| I'm like Satchel Paige wit a gauge | |
| Or Jackie Robinson, when I'm robbin' one | |
| of you Cracker Jacks fool I'm a mothafuckin vet | |
| And fuck yo seventh-inning stretch, so | |
| Take me out to the ballgame, | |
| and see my neighborhood name | |
| In your Ghetto Hall of Fame | |
| Chorus x 3 | |
| Yea (It ain't 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 ballgame | |
| Take me out to the crowd (wha what, wha what) | |
| Another nigga on trial | |
| Keep ya peanuts Jeezuh | |
| And fuck you Cracker Jack | |
| I hope I never come back | |
| I gots to root for my homeboys | |
| If they dont win its a shame | |
| Cuz its one-two-three strikes you in | |
| twenty-five years of pain you know my name | |
| You know my name (wha what, wha what) x 4 | |
| If 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 (don't 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 it | |
| If they kill my game, you know who did it | |
| Remember me (you know who did it) | |
| Wha what, wha what (you know who did it) |
| zuo ci : Hearne, Ice Cube, Johnson | |
| One mo' strike and I' m through, nigga | |
| Bottom of the ninth swingin, for my life | |
| I' m up at the plate, goin for the gate | |
| They got my moms seated in section eight | |
| Been on deck since my last felony | |
| I' m that 0 for 2 mothafucka | |
| With the Louisville Slugger | |
| Shay Whitie, that left hand punk | |
| is on the mound and he comin wit dat offspeed junk | |
| Its the Westside Hustlaz, vs these LA Pigs | |
| You can say the damned vs the nigs | |
| My little homies in the dugout | |
| They lookin' sad, cuz fourteen niggas done struckout | |
| My first offense was possession of weed | |
| Now I' m in the major leagues and | |
| that mothafucka Bill Clintonis a son of a bitch | |
| had the nerve to throw out the first pitch | |
| I' m just tryin' to get rich like Trump | |
| The Home Run king is now in a slump, pass me a hunk | |
| How the fuck can I stay out the pen | |
| When its onetwothree strikes you in | |
| Chorus: | |
| Onetwo three strikes you in | |
| Now how the fuck a nigga supposed | |
| to stay out the pen, I' m on a blend | |
| of Gin and Hen, everyday of my life | |
| With two strikes it ain' t right | |
| He' s in the windup | |
| Here come the pitch | |
| I swing, aw shit foul tip | |
| They felt the chill cuz if I get on first | |
| You know the deal a niggas gots to steal | |
| Like to steal home and I betcha | |
| That I can run over, the LA Pig catcher | |
| Just because I' m black, wit a bat | |
| They wanna send a nigga back to the warning track | |
| fulla count they say I won' t amount to shit | |
| But fool I can hit like Kenny Grit | |
| With a split in my mouth on tha cellular phone | |
| It' s going, going, gone! | |
| And watch a pitcher get served | |
| You from tha LA Pigs | |
| I know you coming with a curve | |
| Ay batter, batter is the chitterchatter | |
| I' m the designated hitter, a nigga | |
| much badder, than Babe Ruth | |
| Will I tell the truth and nothing but the truth | |
| Hell yea, I' d rather be shootin' hoops | |
| Cuz a niggas guaranteed to win | |
| Against a bullshit loss and three strikes you in | |
| Take me out to the ballgame | |
| Take me out to the crowd wha what, wha what | |
| Another nigga on trial | |
| Keep ya peanuts Jeezuh | |
| And fuck you Cracker Jack | |
| I hope I never come back | |
| I gots to root for my homeboys | |
| If they dont win its a shame | |
| Cuz its onetwothree strikes you in | |
| twentyfive years of pain you know my name | |
| They wanna nigga to run and get hung | |
| high strung, so this pig can win the CyYoung | |
| I' ma hit this mothafucka a mile | |
| In the batters box, high as Steve Hal | |
| You can' t salary cap my gat | |
| No strike, cuz gangstarap is on the map | |
| I' m like Satchel Paige wit a gauge | |
| Or Jackie Robinson, when I' m robbin' one | |
| of you Cracker Jacks fool I' m a mothafuckin vet | |
| And fuck yo seventhinning stretch, so | |
| Take me out to the ballgame, | |
| and see my neighborhood name | |
| In your Ghetto Hall of Fame | |
| Chorus x 3 | |
| Yea It ain' t 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 ballgame | |
| Take me out to the crowd wha what, wha what | |
| Another nigga on trial | |
| Keep ya peanuts Jeezuh | |
| And fuck you Cracker Jack | |
| I hope I never come back | |
| I gots to root for my homeboys | |
| If they dont win its a shame | |
| Cuz its onetwothree strikes you in | |
| twentyfive years of pain you know my name | |
| You know my name wha what, wha what x 4 | |
| If 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 don' t 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 it | |
| If they kill my game, you know who did it | |
| Remember me you know who did it | |
| Wha what, wha what you know who did it |
| zuò cí : Hearne, Ice Cube, Johnson | |
| One mo' strike and I' m through, nigga | |
| Bottom of the ninth swingin, for my life | |
| I' m up at the plate, goin for the gate | |
| They got my moms seated in section eight | |
| Been on deck since my last felony | |
| I' m that 0 for 2 mothafucka | |
| With the Louisville Slugger | |
| Shay Whitie, that left hand punk | |
| is on the mound and he comin wit dat offspeed junk | |
| Its the Westside Hustlaz, vs these LA Pigs | |
| You can say the damned vs the nigs | |
| My little homies in the dugout | |
| They lookin' sad, cuz fourteen niggas done struckout | |
| My first offense was possession of weed | |
| Now I' m in the major leagues and | |
| that mothafucka Bill Clintonis a son of a bitch | |
| had the nerve to throw out the first pitch | |
| I' m just tryin' to get rich like Trump | |
| The Home Run king is now in a slump, pass me a hunk | |
| How the fuck can I stay out the pen | |
| When its onetwothree strikes you in | |
| Chorus: | |
| Onetwo three strikes you in | |
| Now how the fuck a nigga supposed | |
| to stay out the pen, I' m on a blend | |
| of Gin and Hen, everyday of my life | |
| With two strikes it ain' t right | |
| He' s in the windup | |
| Here come the pitch | |
| I swing, aw shit foul tip | |
| They felt the chill cuz if I get on first | |
| You know the deal a niggas gots to steal | |
| Like to steal home and I betcha | |
| That I can run over, the LA Pig catcher | |
| Just because I' m black, wit a bat | |
| They wanna send a nigga back to the warning track | |
| fulla count they say I won' t amount to shit | |
| But fool I can hit like Kenny Grit | |
| With a split in my mouth on tha cellular phone | |
| It' s going, going, gone! | |
| And watch a pitcher get served | |
| You from tha LA Pigs | |
| I know you coming with a curve | |
| Ay batter, batter is the chitterchatter | |
| I' m the designated hitter, a nigga | |
| much badder, than Babe Ruth | |
| Will I tell the truth and nothing but the truth | |
| Hell yea, I' d rather be shootin' hoops | |
| Cuz a niggas guaranteed to win | |
| Against a bullshit loss and three strikes you in | |
| Take me out to the ballgame | |
| Take me out to the crowd wha what, wha what | |
| Another nigga on trial | |
| Keep ya peanuts Jeezuh | |
| And fuck you Cracker Jack | |
| I hope I never come back | |
| I gots to root for my homeboys | |
| If they dont win its a shame | |
| Cuz its onetwothree strikes you in | |
| twentyfive years of pain you know my name | |
| They wanna nigga to run and get hung | |
| high strung, so this pig can win the CyYoung | |
| I' ma hit this mothafucka a mile | |
| In the batters box, high as Steve Hal | |
| You can' t salary cap my gat | |
| No strike, cuz gangstarap is on the map | |
| I' m like Satchel Paige wit a gauge | |
| Or Jackie Robinson, when I' m robbin' one | |
| of you Cracker Jacks fool I' m a mothafuckin vet | |
| And fuck yo seventhinning stretch, so | |
| Take me out to the ballgame, | |
| and see my neighborhood name | |
| In your Ghetto Hall of Fame | |
| Chorus x 3 | |
| Yea It ain' t 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 ballgame | |
| Take me out to the crowd wha what, wha what | |
| Another nigga on trial | |
| Keep ya peanuts Jeezuh | |
| And fuck you Cracker Jack | |
| I hope I never come back | |
| I gots to root for my homeboys | |
| If they dont win its a shame | |
| Cuz its onetwothree strikes you in | |
| twentyfive years of pain you know my name | |
| You know my name wha what, wha what x 4 | |
| If 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 don' t 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 it | |
| If they kill my game, you know who did it | |
| Remember me you know who did it | |
| Wha what, wha what you know who did it |
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