Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

So what brings you downstairs?

and the grain pier's been down for a year.

Little Big Roy with his wooden leg.

"Okay, I'll sell you the drugs. How much drugs do you want?"

Okay. Y'all have a good one.

I call him up, I tell him I wanna buy some drugs.

-You stayed with him the whole time? -Every minute.

Goddamn Checkers Local always acting like you're the king of everything and shit.

How about you come on the raids tomorrow?

For your information...

But this thing we did on Barksdale, the wiretap and all...

-How long that motherfucker been home? -A month.

What's more, if the grain pier don't get fixed up soon...

Hey, Frank. Something's going on.

County boys are putting her on our side of the bridge.

You keep us guessing, don't you, Stan?

Only Franoosh Sobotka would send all the way to Esslingen for stained glass.

Well, well, well. If it isn't Barnacle Bill, the sailor.

Fuck kind of game this nigger playing? You sure of our people?

Well, well, well, if it isn’t Barnacle Bill, the sailor.

-Who? -White boys.

That still is no excuse.

-Bring her in the boat? -Hell, no.

It's the guy himself walking up to you, saying:

And I'm told the money is on the way back to Baltimore.

I wake up every morning with an angry, blue-veined diamond-cutter.

Fuck me. I still cannot type.

You know, you should take me with you.

He took our money?

-He ain't fired, man. -No?

But you've gotta give me the information on what we're taking.

But all these paper cuts are starting to take their toll.

See if you can get his ass out of that chair.

-Ain't a problem, Chief. -The fuck it ain't.

So that's overtime, right?