Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Dragging me from the Levy family preserve on a Friday night.
-You gonna spoil him with that shit. -I respect the work.
-Something's up. -What?
and they got suction with the Mayor, and I'm the runt without a tit here.
Ain't so good with names, but, you know, faces I keep in my head.
-He's blind in one eye. -Who?
-Why was he in Casualty Section? -He shot up his own car.
We're just talking about how things go, right?
Only time his name pops up on the courthouse computer...
Shit, I'm sorry, lieutenant.
He doesn't testify, those kids still got a daddy to lean on.
Also got handed some kid named Prezbelowski or Prezbelewski--
-Got it? -Yeah.
Armoire. Louis Quatorze.
Y'all weren't the only lawmen down in the Canyon today.
The kid. The 14-year-old.
it's bad protocol for me to ask for help and then trash the help I'm given.
Worked every goddamn day of his life. You know that?
It's sad enough with the kids being orphaned and everything.
-You need some privacy? -No, it's all right.
and you let them know you're sorry...
keep him off his damn soapbox.
For talking to you, my major is ready to cut my throat.
We free on this.
Really? I got nothing for you.
Got a visual?
-What you got to do with them, Dee? -Yeah, that's what I said.
This case, it's just....
He's one hardheaded fuck in the Terrace you can't run off or buy out, right?
-How y'all doing? You doing good? -Yeah, we all right.
My man, Dee. What's up, man?
What if it's true?
maybe you elected to approach the youth, ordering him to drop the bottle.
you'll get OT...
I don't want to hear shit about you writing nothing to no one.
Shut it down!
Yo, you see how shorty favor your nephew here?
Okay, so the thing to do is reassure the judge...
-What the hell was that about? -Nothing.
-Any charge here? -No charge.
Three kids. Young, too.
I'm working drugs in West Baltimore, I need a black guy for surveillance.
o o
If they in the mix, they get another color.
How did you handle the judge?
You Western knockos come here, picking shit up off the ground...
-Change it up, Bubs. -Yeah, yeah.
Shoot up a barber shop?
getting their fingers all greasy.
"So, I'm gonna write my clowny-ass name on this fat-ass check for you."
Officer down, Officer down!