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LOL @ restaurant game like you're a gangster.

In my mind, he makes boxes out of tin sheeting and then complains when people don't want to pay $5000 for it... also complains when people call him brother and try to get dat middle eastern discount... also complains a lot in general.

Because Mohsen.

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Straight outta kitchen, another crazy ass line chef

More ribs I smoke, yo, my rep gets bigger

I'm a bad motherficker and you know this

But the pussy ass sous' don't show this



Am I doin' it rite?

I rip it, hardcore, like pancake flip bitches,

I roll with groups of ghetto chefs, with biscuits

Yo check it, my method on prosciutto's hangin'

Kitchen slang 'll leave ya head cheese bangin'

Well if kurupt gave a f**k about the kitchen, I'd always be broke

I'd never have no motherf**kin salmon to smoke

I gets toast and 'shroomy, birch when no allergy

Do we like BBQ, you turkey groupie?

I'm prepin' up for the days dessertin'

Fittin' for a king

I'm waitin' for the time when I can

Get to dinner service

'Cause my money is spent on

The goddamn rent

Neither prep list is mine not the

larder or the fish section

20.000 bookey bookey bookings in the dining room

Of the cell phone but they come

From melbourne town.

Special dishes are one with the pheasant and crumb

Wit' a knife,

chef Runnin' staff under his thumb

Cookin' hard a' la carte, but

Isn't it odd and unique?

Seein' kitchen staff wild in the heat

120 degree

'Cause I wanna be free

What's a smilin' dishie

When the whole team's racist

Why want a holiday, f**k it 'cause I wanna

So what if I celebrate it drinkin' in my loungeroom

I ain't drinkin' no 40

I B drinkin' patron wit' a lime

Until we get some grams

Call me the cookin man

Looki lookin' for the manager

Huh he ain't lovin' ya

But here to trouble ya

He's rubbin' ya wrong

Get the joint, come along

An he can get to the point

I urinated on the bar

While I was kickin' this song

Yeah, he appear to be fair

The customer over there

He try to keep it yesteryear

The good ol' days

The same ol' ways

That kept us cookin'

Yes, chef, me myself and I'ndeed

What he need is a nosebleed

Read between the lines

Then you see the lie

selfishly planned

But understand that's all they tipped

When we see the real side

That hide behind the bar

They can't understand why he the chef

I'm singin' 'bout a steak

They don't like it

When I decide to grill it

Wait I'm waitin' for the date

For the chef who demands respect

'Cause he was great c'mon

I'm on the one mission

To ignore all nutrition

we's a gonner

By the time I get to dinner service

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