Three Strikes You In

One mo strike and Im through, nigga
It' s bottom of the ninth swingin', for my life
Im up at the plate, goin' for the gate
They got my mom's seated in section eight

Been on deck since my last felony
Im that 0 for 2 mothafucka
With the Louisville slugger Shay Whitie, that left hand punk
Is on the mound and he comin' with dat off-speed junk

It's the westside hustlaz, verses these LA pigs
You can say the damned verses the nigs
My little homies in the dugout
They lookin sad, 'cause fourteen niggas done struck-out

My first offense was possession of weed
Now Im in the major leagues and
That mothafucka Bill Clinton is a son of a bitch
Had the nerve to throw out the first pitch

Im 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

One two three strikes you in
Now how the fuck a nigga supposed
To stay out the pen, Im on a blend
Of Gin and Hen, everyday of my life
With two strikes it aint right

Hes in the wind up
Here come the pitch I swing, aw shit, foul tip
They felt the chill 'cause if I get on first
You know the deal a niggas gets to steal

Like to steal home and I betcha
That I can run over, the LA pig catcher
Just because Im black, with a bat
They wanna send a nigga back to the warnin' track

Fulla count they say I wont amount to shit
But fool I can hit like Kenny Grit
With a split in my mouth on the cellular phone
Its going, going, gone

And watch a pitcher get served
You from the LA pigs I know you comin' with a curve
Ay batter, batter is the chitter-chatter
Im the designated hitter, a nigga much badder

Than babe ruth will I tell the truth and nothin' but the truth
Hell yeah, Id rather be shootin hoops
'Cause 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
Another nigga on trial
Keep ya peanuts jeezuh and fuck you Cracker Jack
I hope I never come back

I got to root for my homeboys
If they dont win its a shame
'Cause 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
Ima hit this mothafucka a mile
In the batters box, high as Steve Hal

You cant salary cap my gat
No strike 'cause gangsta rap is on the map
Im like Satchel Paige wit a gauge
Or Jackie Robinson, when Im robbin one

Of you cracker jacks fool Im 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

One two three strikes you in
Now how the fuck a nigga supposed
To stay out the pen, Im on a blend
Of Gin and Hen, everyday of my life
With two strikes it aint right

One two three strikes you in
Now how the fuck a nigga supposed
To stay out the pen, Im on a blend
Of Gin and Hen, everyday of my life
With two strikes it aint right

Yeah, 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 ballgame, take me out to the crowd
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
'Cause its one two three strikes you in
Twenty-five years of pain you know my name
You know my name, you know my name
You know my name, you know my name

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, dont guess
If they check my nuts, you know who did it, get em

If they break my bank, you know who did it, yeah
If they pull my rank, you know who did it, get em
If they sock me up, you know who did it, yeah
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