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Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips
My feet are facing west and my dick is pointing south-southwest.
Cool. Give your shit to my boy.
And when he finally gets up to meet the President...
so we gonna sell no matter where we are, right?
Ffff
- For Christ's sake. - As a plan on paper, it was a good one.
Got them spider bags. Two'll get you three.
Using half my district K-9 and the copter to bring a 14-year-old to bay.
Chair ain't recognize your ass, man.
Five-o creeping.
Short-timer.
And there's Dominic standing in line.
- Check, please. - And you know what?
If you march your ass out here right now and put the bracelets on...
move weight all day, and not once did he go near a fucking telephone.
He just went across Stricker in an alley headed for Gilmor.
Game ain't about that no more. It's about product.
All those years you were all about my career.
to explain why you didn't get on top of this shit?
Shit, I feel like I don't got no home no more.
I'm aware of that.
- Schools. - And crime.
Lavell's a soldier. He's not gonna roll up on Prop Joe.
Ten, nine...
Dis-who? No, sir. I'm good to go.
You know you got the one day left, huh?
- Bunk's off day. - Well, fuck his off day.
- Lf he's gonna bang us on crime... - Bang me on crime.
Everybody making money, sharing the real estate.
Who was that skirt with him?
about the Western boys you are playing with!
You got a badge, remember?
On his mama's side.
- Poor fucking Marvin. - Better him than us, right?
Boss, you talking about a homie walked up and shot Elijah Davis.
All due respect, Mr. Mayor, we're at 232 now.
These guys come correct.
- My people had responsibility... - God damn it, Marvin!
Dad, can I have a hot dog?
I can't ask for more time on a wire that's going nowhere.
How we gonna stand on some corner that's not ours?
Proud son of the fighting First District.
- grabs his belt, yanks it up... - Secret Service must've shit.
Are you sure this guy wants to be selling you weight?
If you were smart, you'd come to me when the Mayor shorts you...
He's looking to get with him.