Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

feel my tits or something, you know? But not this.

Jim Brown was an all-American midfielder at Syracuse.

Jimmy McNulty, when he ain't policing...

How you gonna act like that?

If it's for the duck, the next round is on me.

No, I'm gonna chase the paperwork.

I'm thinking of all the business we do in the future...

You all cannot spell for shit.

-That means "one after the other," Jimmy. -I know what it means.

Boy, we about to dry up and blow away, and shit.

If I'm right about this, they'll thank me.

Go ahead, open it.

We up, but we ain't in it.

This time, though, we got the wire up. Eyes and ears both.

It says right here on the computer.

I'm homesick already.

-And give it to the Russian, yeah. -You gonna tell them?

Fucking Vanderwal.

You putting yourself beside Jim Brown?

Why is she such a pain in the ass?

Fake-ass police. Where he get that uniform at? Kmart?

registered with the department. We get you registered, we get paid.

That's not for me.

You mean 'cause no one would leave a beauty like me unless he kicked?

What's for you?

-Nice shot. -Thank you.

It's payday, Zig. Once again.

Any possible informants?

When I get home at night, I just wanna watch a ball game or something.

Okay. We pay you still.

The second can's in a lower bay ready to offload when I get to it.

from Southeast DEU, which tie White Mike to street dealers...

Is Daniels around?

How's it going?

-Why would she lie? -Shit if I know.

It's a new world, Frank.

Left the can at the warehouse and rolled out.