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Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips
Used to come down to the corners, real green.
If you've ever worked with me before, you know I don't want cowboy shit...
Don't dig in, don't get fancy.
Go with the deuce?
Question is, what do you want me to do now?
Then how come they sent every worthless hump in plainclothes?
He stuck to his story for half a day, until Ballistics matched the bullet...
What am I gonna say?
Church deacon? That was thick.
-Ain't necessarily what it looks like. -No?
just some sad-ass down at the basement of McDonald's...
Gant, William. 41 years.
I always heard it that you can't win if you don't play.
An arrest or two would help.
Bunk and me, we got our own rhythm.
you used a Kel-Light, not the handle of your service weapon...
Shit.
Bullshit, plain and simple.
Then you're gonna get all the way in, Lieutenant.
What? Do you hear me?
-Hello? -You seen the paper?
and she's fucking telling us what to do.
Yo, Carv. Notice that most of the time...
Why apologize at all if you got nothing to do with it?
-What? -The newspaper, get it.
Do I know you?
-What about him? -That's Little Man.
-It's fucked up. -Yes, it is.
Look, this is a poor fucking city, gentlemen.
You don't know, and you don't need to know.
My partner caught a murder. It may have nothing with Barksdale at all.
Do you hear me?
They used your name, Stringer, Wee-Bey...
Correct.
Why? You think he get a percentage?
Kima, if you don't mind me asking...
What are you doing here at 2:00 in the morning?
Just say what's in your heart.
No? What's that?
Hold up, hold up.
Younger white boy.
No grandstanding, no red balls.
A rusted nail just went through my shoe.
-That's good money. -Yeah.
Good, get up. Go! Walk!
Why the fuck you gotta say you're sorry?
Most of all, it needs police who know how to work those things.
At least that works.
What?
He just decided, voluntarily, to write a letter to the victim's family.
Judge Phelan called this morning...
-They're yours? -Yeah, afraid so.