All language subtitles for The.Sopranos.S01E10.BDRip.x264-ARCHiViST

Talk it through the opening.

A little left.
A little left on your end.

All right!

Open the door.

Any hinky shit, you'll be refrying
beans with Pablo Escobar again.

This is all a message to your friends.
Stay away from Port Newark.

Don't even drive out to Jersey,
not even on Sundays.

I'll tell them.

They've been told. Twice.
Now I'll tell them.

Here!

Holy shit!

Bingo!

We can't fit it all!

Fucking crackheads
and their small bills.

This is a token of my appreciation,
for recommending Dr. Melfi.

She's a good shrink.
I'm not a model patient...

What? What?
You didn't have to.

These are Montecristos.
These are Cuban.

Yeah, they're the best, right?

Aren't they illegal?

They're cigars.

- Oh, they're dreamy, Ton.
- You're a good neighbor, Bruce.

I'm a doctor. I make referrals
all the time. You don't have to...

- No biggie.
- I bet these were hard to come by.

They fell off a truck.

- Excuse me.
- Sure.

- Hello?
- It's done.

It's the biggest refrigerator
you've ever seen.

And the other thing?

Juan Valdez has been separated
from his donkey.

You know, Ton, I been watching you
out back with your putter.

- You ever play at the club?
- No.

I play Minnisink, the public course.

You ought to come to the club
and play sometime.

- No, you know, it's...
- Come on! It's a wicked back nine.

Besides, I think you'd like
some of the members very much.

Yeah, maybe, you know...

We'll see.

Here we go.

- Fresh champagne, gentlemen.
- Oh, that's beautiful!

- I love a mixed salad.
- I could stare at it for hours.

A score like this happens
once in a lifetime.

Gotta make this work for us, legit.

Find a nice IPO, keep it spinning,
live off the juice.

- IP who?
- Tony!

Yeah, yeah?

IPO, Initial Public Offering, stock,
insider market trading shit.

- Where's my baby?
- Understand?

Paulie, baby. Get that big dick
in the Jacuzzi, now!

Taking off.

- Gonna celebrate, me and Adriana.
- Mother of mercy!

- Could this be the end of RICO?
- Maybe.

Just may be!

- Have fun!
- Say hello.

Say hello to your girl for me.

Thank you so much
for taking me to the theater.

Rent.
Fucking Broadway musicals.

We're supposed to be all weepy because
the heat's off in some guy's loft?

I'm humming the scenery, Chrissy!

Fifth row center
and dinner at Le Cirque!

I'm embarrassed to be hungry again.

Thank you.

After how many years with
Tony Soprano's crew...

some shit has finally worked out.

Just when I was starting
to wonder if, you know...

Whose welfare check
you gotta cash to get a burger?

Hey, shut the fuck up!

Wouldn't it be cool to own
a restaurant like Le Cirque?

Madonna, with the careers.

The black guy over there,
he look familiar?

Why don't you just forget about
working and be with me?

Oh, yeah.

And be one of those wives
like Carmela Soprano.

Breast-feeding rug rats and spending
the rest of your life at the gym.

You're right. My cousin's always had
a brain, but what does she use it for?

With a husband who can't tell you
where the money's from.

- What am I back here, Mark Fuhrman?
- You're a dick, man!

Chris, would you chill?

It's fucking discrimination already!

Hey!

About time. Excuse me.

Bold men make bold statements.

Why'd they send you? I'm looking
for a burger, not converted rice.

Madonna.

Your woman looks embarrassed.

Give me a couple of burger baskets.

He's only bold because he's semi-hooked
up with the Tony Soprano crew.

What's with the attitude? If it's not
the blacks, it's somebody else.

- Nice.
- Must be the homie with the blue hat.

Yo!

Donnie Brasco.

Yeah?

My name is Orange J.
I'm down with Massive Genius.

That's who it was.
The gangsta rapper.

I told you to shut up!

We're having a party at G's crib.
Englewood Cliffs. You interested?

And I get served with black-eyed peas
tomorrow? Yo, I know what time it is.

Massive's heard of the crew you with.
There's business to be done.

This is a beautiful, beautiful home.

Smaller than my Hamptons crib,
but that's bigger than Steven's.

It's Italian contractors obviously.

Look at all these gold records!

What do we have here?

You like that shit?

A little Christmas present to myself.

Isn't that a sight to behold?

I do so love a good firearm
in my hand.

You people are all right.

Godfather,
I seen that movie 200 times.

Godfather II was
definitely the shit!

The third one...

a lot of people didn't like it,
but I think it was just misunderstood.

So what business you want to discuss?

- Mr. Herman Rabkin.
- Hesh.

I don't know him personally,
but I know his history.

In the late '50s and '60s,
he owned F-Note Records.

Yeah, Hesh was in the music business.

Little situation here.

My mother's deceased distant cousin,
Little Jimmy Willis, '50s legend.

Two seminal hit records
was his legacy.

Drug tragedy.

- Such a Fool.
- Oh, I love that!

They play it all the time
on oldies radio.

Old Herman?

He's just another white motherfucker
stealing royalties...

from the black man
that made him the money.

Jimmy's mother, who I'm content to
call my aunt, is owed that money.

Hesh is the sweetest guy. But I know
his opinion on giving back Israel.

I can only imagine what
he'll say about this shit.

Feel free to enjoy the food
and any other enjoyments.

- Champagne, sir. Ma'am?
- Yeah.

That guy's a gangsta?
I'm a gangsta.

I'm an OG, original gangsta.
Not him, fucking lawn jockey.

But he's got the fly Hamptons house.

Alec Baldwin comes over.
Whitney Houston. What do I got?

I sit in a fucking pork store,
for chrissake.

But the moolies, they got it
going on. And they're on TV.

They don't take no shit.

Soprano crew, it's always secret this,
omertá that. Gets on my nerves.

Junior with his moldy sweaters,
and he's a fucking boss.

You were just feeling
so good about yourself.

Our thing once ruled the music
business, did you know?

- No.
- We bankrolled acts, blacks, everybody.

Paid the DJs or busted heads
to get them played on the air.

There were great Italian singers.

Fucking A. Frankie Valli, Dion,
The Rascals, the whole Philly thing.

My dad used to talk about those guys.

Now? Fucking drum machine,
some ignorant poetry...

and any dropout ditsoon
is chairman of the board.

Gangsta.

Talk about paesano pride.
Go, Jovi!

- Oh, you're home.
- Hey.

- Barb Wagner called, you remember her?
- The mayonnaisers from up the street?

They invited us to a barbecue.

All right. Didn't think so.

Still with the brochures?

You believe how much it cost
for a college education?

We got enough.

I know we got enough,
but how much is enough?

God forbid, what if
something should happen?

Call up old man Coletti, tell him not
to put too much makeup on my face.

Don't joke around about this, Tony.

You'll be taken care of.

You always tell me that,
I'll be taken care of. By who?

What is with the look?
Did you just make a score?

No. I wish.

You know, Tony, it's a
multiple-choice thing with you.

Because I can't tell if you're
old-fashioned, you're paranoid...

or just a fucking asshole.

So what do I tell the Wagners?

Do you want to go?

Sure.

Even Cusamano asked me to play
a little golf with him at his club.

- Sorry.
- All right, all right.

Prick. New maître d',
he's really on the rag tonight.

I'll talk to him.

- Remember Richie Santini?
- Yeah, you used to fuck him.

That really sums it up. I knew him
since we were 3, he lived next door.

Yeah, we had our little phase.

- What about him?
- You've heard his band?

Defiler? I'm not into
that headbanging shit.

You talked about the good old days.
Italians running the music business.

Richie's this musician who you know.
They're not a hair band anymore.

And they're good!

You said yourself how much money
there was in this thing.

You mean, like, Richie Santini?

Would Massive Genius be interested?

It's a whole different thing.
Black.

But he's got Massive G Productions.
Shit, they make movies even!

Massive does owe me a favor.
I'm arranging a sit-down with Hesh.

I was thinking about... Okay, okay,
I know this sounds kind of funny.

Music management.

I have met people, important people...

learned people skills, how to deal
with big egos, solve problems.

And with my love of
all kinds of music...

Maybe Alec Baldwin would
come to our house.

It's an old demo.

No, you know what?

Fuck it.

Let's set you up.

- What?
- I got money.

With how much you listen to
the radio, you'd be good.

I can't believe it.

But I get to pick what you wear.

Dress you up. I like that.

This place has the flavor.

That gelding, name is Sydney.

You never wrote a song about him?

When you and Little Jimmy were
writing all his hits...

did you write the music
and him the lyrics or vice versa?

We had our own process.

So that ooh, wacka-doo,
wacka-dooly do, I'm so blue...

That spring from your experience
or the little brother's?

One could write a song about a horse.

But to be a hit with your audience...

you'd have a cop on him, be ripped
up the ass with a Mac 10, no?

So you bought horses
with your royalties.

What about Little Jimmy's royalties?

He bought horse.

Music business back then, we broke
all the rules as we went along.

You mean raping and pillaging.

Things haven't changed much, huh?

Were we hard-nosed? Yeah.
But we gave a lot of kids their start.

A lot of Negro youth.
Took them out of the ghetto.

Put them on the stage.

Ordinarily I'd be more than happy
to stroll down Memory Lane with you...

but I want reparations.

Why don't we call this what it is?
A shakedown.

Your father was a silent partner
in F-Note Records.

Made sure that the records
got airplay, right?

That money bought my house
at the Jersey Shore.

What are you gonna do?
I'm guided by you.

He's gotta do the right thing,
that's what.

You're way out of line, kid. Let's
get some cold water on your head.

Thank you, Jen.
Let's get right to the point, huh?

What's in this for you?

If you read Chuck D's book...

he advises that
reparations be made...

by the Jewish studio moguls
in Hollywood.

For the way black folks
were portrayed on film.

It's germane
to this argument in that...

the grievances in the music
business are far worse.

You're talking to
the wrong white man, my friend.

My people were the white man's nigger
when yours were still chasing zebras.

As far as Louis B. Mayer is concerned,
what are you, nuts?

My lawyers have done research.

I think that the final figure
is somewhere around $400,000.

Now, a cashier's check made
to a Mrs. Idella Willis...

will set it straight.

Or what?

What was it that she called him?

Oh, yeah.

That nice man, I think she said.

So how's your neighbor?
The one with no neck?

The Sopranos?

There's a new car in the driveway
every other week. Besides that...

He gave me a gift of
some excellent Cuban cigars.

And you accepted them.

See?
Eroding the neighborhood values.

He was thanking me for the physician,
which he is very happy with.

Really?

What does that do to property values?
Having a gangster living next door?

Are you kidding?

Safest block in the neighb.
Being a gangster, what's that mean?

The shit I see in the boardroom,
I don't know if I'd make a distinction.

Oh, will you, please?
It's not the same.

Bugging, bribes? I don't know.

I think the only thing separating
American business from the Mobs...

is whacking somebody.

- Listen to you!
- What?

Whacking!

He hangs around with Tony Soprano and
it's fucking this, fucking that.

We were there for that fundraiser.
I didn't see any guns anywhere.

But that bar with
the goombah Murano glass.

I like Murano glass.

Those Montecristos.

What do you say? After dinner?

It ain't your type
of music, but...

I like any kind of music
that turns shit green.

He's been through a lot.
It's deepened his writing.

As a metal band
they were great, but this...

as far as I am concerned,
blows away Matchbox 20.

What do they call themselves?

Used to be Defiler. Then some
personnel changes, bass and drums.

But Richie and Vito are still
the core of the band.

Now they're called Visiting Day.

This is some loud shit!

That's Richie.

And that's Vito.

Fuck you!

Sit the fuck down, you mullethead!

This isn't the right place for them.

- Boo!
- You suck!

Without the right help from you...

Visiting Day could end up
in the miscellaneous V section.

You interested?

Yes.

That scene where Pesci sticks
the guy's head in a vise...

and then pops his eye out.
I thought I was gonna die!

I'll be right back, okay?

Excuse me.

- It's this way?
- Yes.

Thank you.

- I don't know.
- What?

Richie, the guy's 30,
still lives with his parents.

It's because of the accident.

Richie had third-degree burns
from trying...

to grill that trout
with a downed power line.

But at the same time, being
electrocuted turned his life around.

Well, you did
some ace fucking selling.

You think?

Yeah, thing is though...

music is not something
you can hold in your hands, you know?

Like football betting cards or coke.

It's art.

Berry Gordy, whatever,
he had to see it in the Supremes.

It's an instinct.
I see it in Richie.

Yeah, probably is.

I'm really fucking doing it!

And it's all thanks to you.

I'm gonna make a demo CD like
Massive advised. And then, yeah!

My wife thinks I need
to meet new people.

- So?
- You're Italian, you understand.

We're brought up to think
the americani are fucking bores.

But the average white man's
no more boring...

than the millionth conversation over
who should have won, Marciano or Ali.

Am I to understand that
you don't consider yourself white?

I don't mean white like Caucasian.
I mean a white man.

Like our friend Cusamano.

Now, he's Italian,
but he's americano.

What Dad called a Wonder Bread Wop.
He eats his Sunday gravy out of a jar.

You seem to want to branch out.
What's stopping you?

The guys, you know.

What they'd think if I started
hanging out with the americani.

I was in the neighborhood last night.
At the Cusamanos'.

Oh, yeah?

Dinner party.

You should have stopped by.
Live right next door.

You didn't hear any strange noises
last night in your neighborhood?

Noises?

Like someone screaming in pain?

No.

Probably a television set.

You saw my house?

Oh, this looks good.

That sausage, where'd you get it?
That place in Garfield?

- Honey? Where'd we get the sausage?
- That place in Garfield.

The only thing better than salsiccia
is a pair of tits.

It's a hell of a piece of meat.

Salsiccia is a kind of a phallic thing.

Whereas tits...

Jack, you're a stockbroker, right?

Any changes in the market coming?

- It's always changing.
- Keeps us coming back.

Rand, you hear from Ross on Dexplex?

No, but the buyout is going down.

Give me some warning.
I need to call the islands.

Dexplex?

It's a little company.
It's going public, maybe.

Come on. The sun is shining,
it's a beautiful day.

Let's not talk business for once.

American Biotics.

Barb, our stock guru.

She thinks American Biotics
may be a good investment.

They're close to a side-effect-free
anti-impotence drug.

You guys play the stock market?

Oh, we don't just play...

We win.

That's take 62.

We ought to just bag it.

Okay, we're bagging it.

We should've bagged this
days ago when it was perfect.

I wish I had thought of that.

It's good. You know, not bad.

It's as good as we'll get.

Oh, it wasn't too bad.
It was kind of good!

What are you saying?
Is something wrong?

We're all trying our best here.
I just think we hit a brick wall.

Maybe some rest.

Hey, hey, fuck that!

I paid for three days' studio time.

It'll only cost me more
to pack it up and come back again.

We got through the instrumental
tracks with no problem.

I'm fucking beat.

What about we finish this shit?

Three days we've been slamming
our hams!

Kinko's gave me five days off.
No big deal.

Kinko's? Buddy, this is
costing me 300 bucks an hour!

Here, try this.

Dude, I don't do drugs anymore, okay?

Well, hats off. But for all
the excitement in these songs...

maybe you should suck on
another downed power line.

Christopher!

That was our most introspective song.
It's not supposed to rock.

- It'll be our first single.
- No, second.

- Sharon's Chair will bust out.
- I like Melt.

Come on. Go shoot the crank.
Let's wrap this up.

- What?
- You heard me. Spike up!

No fucking way.

I'm producing these sessions.

Go take the fucking drugs!
I'm not fucking around anymore!

Look, the problem, Christopher...

is the bass and the drum tracks
were miked wrong from the beginning!

Hey, King of Rock,
you're out of your depth.

Let me tell you something.

Thank you,
but I've recorded in Denmark.

You want to know what the problem is?

Where are the fucking choruses?

All your songs, you got no choruses.

Your choruses are just another verse.
What happened to She Loves You?

She Loves You?

Yeah, the song started
with the chorus.

There is structure.
That's how you build a song.

The Beatles. That's been 40 years now
and it makes me fucking sick!

What is he, nuts?

- Fuck this, man.
- Where you going?

I'm going to AA,
you fucking jerk-off!

- Get back to work.
- Christopher!

- Okay.
- Come on, come on!

Big man, huh?

- Fuck!
- You all right?

What? What...
Get back in the booth!

So we take it from the top.

We'll use a ukulele.

I can't believe you!

5,000 shares.

Yes, American Biotics.

Yeah, can you place the order today?

Okay, great. I'll have the money
to you by tomorrow.

Okay. Thank you. Bye-bye.

- What, are you spying on people now?
- I live here.

You playing Wall Street now?

Women are better savers than men.
And we are nurturers.

What do you know about
the stock market?

I keep my ears open.
CNBC is a very interesting channel.

Your father, God bless him,
does very well.

But who knows? What if something
unforeseen should happen?

What if he gets hit by a truck?
I mean, then what?

- I got you kids to think about.
- I don't know.

When you get married, you will.

A woman has to keep her individuality.
This here is a life lesson.

Okay.

Let's go to Georgette Klinger's.
Massage, facial...

Jour de beauté. On me.

Sure.

- It's a lily.
- Now, that's a shot.

- Ball runs like a frightened faun.
- W.C. Fields.

- That thing's still running!
- This is a nice place.

Didn't I tell you?
We ought to make you a member.

Tony, you ever play
that place in Orlando?

No, I never get down there.
Well, Disneyworld.

You know, Al's place.

Mount Plymouth?

- Al Capone built it.
- No shit?

- He was a golf fanatic, that's right.
- So you guys watch A&E.

Tony, let me ask you a question.
If I'm stepping on toes, tell me.

How real was The Godfather?

I mean, in your opinion.

- What do you mean, real?
- Authentic or not.

I don't know.

How would I know?
It was the '50s, right?

- No, it wasn't. It was 1972.
- No, the story took place in the '50s.

Did you really have to cut
your finger and take an oath?

Like gridlock on Times Square
today, isn't it?

Traffic in Manhattan's worsened
since don't block the box.

You got a lot of friends
in New York, Tony?

- Yeah.
- You ever go to Little Italy?

San Gennaro,
the feast with the kids.

What do you think of
when you hear Mulberry Street?

- Umberto's.
- Hey! All right!

You ever see that picture of Galante
dead, with a cigar in his mouth?

- No.
- It was a fucking beautiful hit.

Sorry, Tony.
You probably knew the guy, huh?

How fucking old you think I am?

You don't have to answer this if you
don't want to, but I gotta know.

Did you ever meet John Gotti?

Yeah. I knew John.

Fuck!

What was he really like?

- Remember Bungalow Bar?
- The ice cream trucks?

Like Good Humor, except
the trucks had bungalow roofs on.

Was Gotti a silent partner in that?

I don't know nothing about that.

Just know that
when the company folded...

and they were auctioning off
the last truck...

the one with the peaked roofs,
you're right, Cuse.

When they were auctioning off
the last truck...

and I wanted it as a souvenir...

Gotti outbid me.

Gave me a ride home.

You know, he rang that bell
the whole way home?

They're waving at us.

Oh, I love this part.

This is good.

Some good guitar.
Listen to that.

They got it going on.

Yeah.

So?

Well, I think it's not good.

Want to be more specific?

There's good and not good.
This is not good.

Maybe it's not your era, no offense.

Music is music. Talent is talent.
I don't care who you are.

I've seen them all. I saw heavy metal
invented by Hendrix at the Cafe Wah.

Kid just came out of the Army.
I said to him...

I don't know if it's talent,
charisma, magic, but you got it.

These kids? They don't, sorry.

You're just pissed about the sit-down.

Get the fuck out of here
and stop wasting my time.

This Vito is a great fucking
guitar player, Hesh.

He's a great guitar player.

However, there's one constant
in music.

A hit is a hit and this is not a hit!

- Why?
- Christ!

For reasons we couldn't comprehend
or codify, you pathetic schlepper!

Fucking Massive is a genius,
so what the fuck was he talking about?

When I was a kid, there was this guy.

We called him Jimmy Smash.

Now, he wasn't retarded.

But we thought he was because he had
one of these whatchamacallits.

Hey, Jimmy, how the fuck are you?

- What do you call that?
- Cleft palate.

Yeah.

Well, we was kids, right?
So what the hell did we know?

Every time he opened his mouth,
we'd piss ourselves laughing.

But Jimmy didn't mind because he got
to hang out with us, the popular crew.

We called him when bored.

Call him and say...
Hey, Jimmy, sing Mack the Knife.

Because he wanted to hang out
with us, he'd belt it right out.

We'd fucking roll
on the floor, laughing.

And then, you know, when the laughs
got old, we stopped calling him.

Wasn't until years later...

I found out the poor prick
went home every night...

and cried himself to sleep.

Then when I found out, you know...

I felt bad.

But I never really understood
what he felt.

To be used, you know...

for somebody else's amusement
like a fucking dancing bear.

Till I played golf with those guys.

You thought Cusamano was your friend.

You live, you learn.

Can I ask you a question?

Whatever happened to Jimmy?

Jimmy Smash?
He's doing 20 for robbery.

The cops knew who it was.

He goes to the bank in a mask
and goes, give me all your money!

Some fucker's on the phone for you.

- Good morning, Herman. I'm listening.
- Good.

Don't miss what I have to say.
I've been thinking about it.

- Go on.
- Find another schmuck to screw with.

You do know what this means?

Stupid enough to say it over
the phone. Let's hear it.

I don't threaten, Herman.
I act.

Genius, you're in way over your head.
Why don't you back up a bit?

You know, let sleeping dogs lie.

Hey, Soprano.

This is what I think about
this gangsta rap shit.

You probably got a degree in
sociology from a city college.

I grew up in the projects.
Delta 13.

Killed a man.

Later on I got a degree,
but urban planning.

You were close.

Now, when it comes to
which is mightier...

the pen or
the motherfucking sword?

I let the situation dictate.

Don't press it.

I'm gonna do my part to keep
Mr. Rabkin's people working.

What's that mean?

Expect to hear from Goldstein,
Baum and Woronov.

They represent us in the lawsuit.

You gonna sue?

With what I pay in retainers?
Fuck, yeah!

I hear that.

- Yeah, well...
- Listen, tatteleh.

Be advised that on your last single,
you sampled the backing vocal...

from the Chablis' 1968 song,
Riff Wit It.

For which F-Note Records controls
the recording rights.

- No shit.
- Yes, shit.

I would, of course,
have to countersue.

I'll see you in court.

Fucking legal fees.

What kind of melanzane are these?
They call themselves gangsters.

It's a new fucking day.

Fucking depressing.

Now, this is a Donatella Versace.

Nice.

You like it better than the Alaia?

- Keep them both.
- Christopher, $2400!

- I don't think you really like it.
- I like it. I like it.

MTV Awards?

What?

Nothing.

I thought that fight was over.

You want me to take it back?
No problem.

No! Fuck, I want you to have it.

You know how I use
positive visualization?

I know you talk about it. You're
fairly negative a lot of the time.

You should mentally prepare...

for the fucking possibility
that Visiting Day sucks.

What?

You've gotten this far with Massive
because he wants to be in your pants.

Boy, oh, boy.

I let some experts listen to the demo.
They shit all over it.

Experts? Who? Hesh?
That old fucking synagogue cantor?

Silvio, he owned rock clubs in Asbury.

You heard what Squid said.
He's a professional engineer.

What about my opinion?
That it's good, that it's special?!

His eyes are on your ass 98%
of the time. You know that.

You're just trying to keep me down!

That ain't fair!

I don't want these clothes.

What's wrong with it?
What's wrong with Visiting Day?

I don't know.

It's a problem that you don't know.
Richie, he'll sing anything.

You just don't believe my relationship
with Massive isn't based on fucking!

It's based on intelligence.

Respect. Talent!

I'll shut up.

You saying I don't have talent?

I branched out, made new friends,
new horizons and you can't stand that!

Yeah, go silent. That's you.

Either screaming your head off
or fucking dead.

I don't think
I can stay here anymore.

- I love you.
- That is such a lie!

- Hey, Carmela!
- In here!

I need a finger.

- What's in the box?
- Sand.

I'm fucking with Cusamano.

Tony!

Beautiful!

You're cute when you're a bad boy.

You're awfully chipper today.

- So what are you doing with the box?
- Give it to him.

- Tell him to hold onto it for a while.
- Oh, Tony, that is so evil!

Yeah, I know.
That's why it's so much fun.

Oh, God.

Cuse! Cuse! Cuse!

Come here.

- Hey, Ton. How you doing?
- Good, how you doing?

Fine, thanks. Listen...

You know, that nickname...

What? Cuse? Cusamano!

- It's got that other connotation...
- No, no, not anymore.

I need a little solid. I need you
to hang onto this for a while for me.

Hang onto it and I'll come get it
when I need it.

How long?

A month.
Maybe more, maybe less.

- Okay? Thanks.
- Yeah, sure.

I meant to ask you about the club.
What's going on?

Oh, the club.

I'm sorry, Ton.
Membership's closed.

- Closed?
- Yeah.

- No new members until old members die.
- Nobody's dying?

- Nothing we could do anything about.
- No biggie, Cuse.

- You sure?
- Thanks.

- I mean, because...
- No. I'll live.

Now, that's a hit.

What is it? Heroin?

Shit, Jean, I don't know.
A weapon? I don't know.

Could be anything.

Don't touch it.