Out East

Austin Hart, Namir Blade

The beans don't burn in the kitchen. The beans gon burn on the grill. The team don't learn by division, the team gon earn what they kill. Remember that, like simerlac, I ran up in this bih, like where my dinner at? I act a rooting tooting fool, when I spin the strap. You and so and so still cool? We ain't into that. We ain't into nun, bih I'm up to something. I heard a nigga sneak dis, I feel a chuckle coming. I caught em sleeping in the tub and left the water running. I got down with the grimiest, slimiest, paranoid fucking up the blinds and shit, try it bitch. We looked over your story we ain't buying it. Somebody get they mans, before he on consignment.

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