{*whispered*}
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Love me.. give me love..
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Give me love food..
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Give me love, so that I can.. kill..
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Give me love, because I can.. kill..
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He's not real.. (the devil) and she must die..
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Die.. (he is the son of man, he is the son of God)
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{*beat drowns out whispered vocals*}
|
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[King Tee]
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Three strike you're out they're makin niggaz behave
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No more slaps on the wrist gettin 90 days
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Welcome to the next level, it's the new world order
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Snatch ya like a tractor, might kill ya for a quarter
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I put that on my moms, that's on everything I love
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Nigga what? Catch a L, make you cry like a dove
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So sucka free is the only way for me
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You don't get paid just for bein O.G.
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We've been had, we've been tricked, we've been played
|
right when we, went left, for what? We shoulda stayed
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Stressed all the homies just to show they mean business
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Rushed 'em with the quickness, killed 'em with the sickness
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Tried to save his life, give him CPR, huh
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Somethin for the lungs, fat African drums
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So clear up your sinus and keep your nose clean
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Khakis so hot it makes the one-time stop
|
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[Chorus]
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Three strikes, you're out, then a nigga pays
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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)
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'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!)
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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
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Check my file, bring it to trial
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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, (?)
|
|
-----------------
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3 Strikes Ya' Out
|
King Tee |