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Home > Roots Part 3
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Roots Part 3

Roots Part 3

Roots Part 3 is a gripping television miniseries that continues the captivating journey of Alex Haley's ancestors. This critically acclaimed show, originally released in 1977, showcases the struggle and resilience of enslaved Africans in America. With incredible performances by LeVar Burton as Kunta Kinte, John Amos as Toby, and Maya Angelou as Nyo Boto, the series delves deep into the painful legacy of slavery. Explore the profound impact of Roots Part 3 by immersing yourself in its powerful sounds, available for play and download here.

A heavy match of birds.
A man who bets a mere thousand here or there
A man who mistreats a woman who loves him.
A name is who you is.
A private hack between Tom Lea
A thousand men come for this match.
A whole lot of training for they wings,
A woman who knows her own mind.
Aah!
Aah!
About a bird or two,
About that no count cracker and his birds.
Abracadabra.
Accepted.
Acting like he my second massa.
After George leaves,
Against me and Tricia, would you, George?
Ah, shit!
Ah, we're winning, George.
Ah, yeah!
Ah. Tomorrow.
Ain't got no right to be mocking your daddy.
Ain't got no worries.
Ain't no handling no massa,
Ain't that right, Tricia?
Ain't you a businessman?
All I know is how to make all this livable.
All right, all right, all right, all right.
All right.
All right.
All right.
All right.
All right.
All right.
All right. I got you, I got you.
All that stuff matter more to him than you.
All these white men saying, "Hey, Mingo,"
All this spinning is making me dizzy.
All your bragging and carrying on,
Allow me satisfaction in the field... a duel.
Always happy to take your money, Jewett.
Amen. Let's dance, Mama.
And 'cause my daddy was backwoods poor.
And ain't no sheriff gonna do nothing 'bout it.
And ain't none of them named Tom yet.
And ain't none of them named Tom yet.
And can't do that no more.
And don't nobody love ya like your mama.
And don't you say nothing about this to Massa Tom.
And fed them and helped Mingo fix them.
And fight your own birds.
And I ain't never gonna be that.
And I believe it will protect this baby and all of us.
And I deserve it.
And I expect you to keep her belly full.
And I fight them 'cause they're magic.
And I knew what he'd do if you don't name that boy Tom.
And I know all you care about is fighting chickens.
And I see you still they massa, I'd die every day.
And I want you to name him
And I want you to name him
And I'll give it.
And I'll hang for it gladly.
And I've been waiting for the right moment
And it break my heart.
And it was fun watching Massa Tom
And may God have mercy on your souls.
And men who speak with double hearts.
And my daddy gonna watch over you.
And never to you, sir.
And now that I'm free,
And right now I'm gonna kill him.
And see, my eyes is old,
And so far away from my mama and daddy,
And taters!
And the thing about rich white men,
And the time they start having babies,
And they true killers.
And Tom Lea of Caswell County, North Carolina.
And turn it to ash in a bonfire of foolishness...
And we couldn't get in.
And we gonna end up on paddle wheelers
And we got to win big.
And when a boy comes,
And yet you poke, poke, poke me like a damn hog.
And you be on your best behavior,
And you one, too.
And you will yearn for more!
And yours, too.
And, boys, I'll be open to all offers.
Anyone can see that Jackson is too boorish to be president.
Around fancy ladies.
Ashford and George Jr. Can start clearing out
Aw, come on!
Babies in their beds, using axes, swords, clubs.
Babies in their beds, using axes, swords, clubs.
Barley, milk, corn, rice, and my secret...
Be good for the boy.
Be sure of that!
Be waiting for you when you're done.
Been doing this fore you was alive.
Behold!
Being free takes a watchful eye,
Besides, my farm's worth half that much.
Best I ever felt.
Best move I ever made.
Bet a1,000?
Bet more just to see me.
Bet them pages cut right out your bible.
Bet your mama gonna be after you
Big ones, Mama!
Biggest farm in Carolina ain't enough
Bill your cocks.
Birds know who they can trust, know who love them.
Birds leave they marks on a man.
Birds... four pound six.
Bit of gossip, weather, fashion.
Bought my first ******.
Bought my own farm.
Bought my papers three years ago.
Boy forgot his pass
Boy, come on. You ain't got no money.
Boy, why you still standing there?
Boy's gonna be my good luck charm, Kizzy.
Boys stopping by to play for everybody.
Breathing even.
Bring that cock to the pen, Mingo.
Burning up little babies, serving them to his gang to eat.
But don't you ever get no shame, George.
But first, we got to survive.
But he who opens his lips...
But how'd you get the money?
But I can see what the Lord says.
But I do what I can to make the fit work.
But I heard Mama Kizzy telling the stories
But I know you ain't let go of my hand yet.
But I known you since you was a little boy.
But I prefer it to the alternative.
But I trained them right.
But I'd be so far from George.
But I've been wrong before.
But it ain't your faith.
But it's gonna cost you to find out.
But Mama...
But Massa Tom likes me, Mama.
But my baby's gonna have me all the time.
But she had locked everything up,
But she warned us that the streets are foul
But she's strong as a woman half her age.
But still so pretty, women cry when I pass by.
But that English bastard's offering me a way out.
But the belly of the wicked shall want chicken!
But when George and Matilda have children,
But why'd y'all come here today?
But you don't know birds.
But you have honored my father.
But, George, if you lose this fight,
But, yeah, I'm free.
Buy my George?
Cabins was on fire.
Came from Juffure, from Africa.
Came from my papa.
Came up from Durham way?
Came with me to fight birds.
Can I hold the bird, Massa Tom?
Can you believe that,
Can your damn English cousin handle $20,000?
Can't bet our home.
Can't ever talk to me like that, George.
Can't find that devil's prophet.
Can't no slave be 'round no white men
Can't stay by yourself all the time.
Can't stop these men once they start.
Can't trust nobody.
Can't you see I'm parched?
Carried me from a backwoods shack
Chain yourself to the wagon, George.
Charleston's a long ways away.
Chicken! Oh, chicken!
Cholera, lime leg, and canker.
Clear as day to those got eyes.
Come by the Easter picnic.
Come down on him!
Come here.
Come on now, George!
Come on now, George.
Come on now, Mingo!
Come on now, Red! Come on, Red!
Come on now, you little bastard.
Come on up! Come on! Get him!
Come on, boy.
Come on, George!
Come on, George.
Come on, let's go!
Come on, Mama. They ain't gonna play all night.
Come on, Red!
Come on, Red!
Come on, Red!
Come on, you son of a bitch!
Come on!
Come on!
Come on!
Come on!
Come on!
Come on!
Come on! Come on, now!
Come on! Come on, now!
Come on! Come on!
Come on! Get him, boy!
Come on! Rise up!
Come on.
Come on.
Come on.
Come pretty and go fast.
Come see the babies.
Come with me, cousin.
Congratulations. Bless you.
Cooks, sews, handles the house.
Damn fool.
Damn hard scheme for the likes of you.
Damn it, Byrd, yield.
Damn it!
Damn right.
Damn. What the hell is this?
Day might come when you're able to buy yourself free.
Deep in the damn dirt!