Original subtitles

(projector reel starting)

Downloaded from YTS.MX

(dramatic music)

Official YIFY movies site: YTS.MX

(light music)

- [Blest] A graffiti writer never expects to get caught.

Just like a cop never expects to get shot.

(gun shot)

(funky music)

(beeping)

(funky music)

* Check it out

* PSK, we're making that green

* People always say,

* What the hell does that mean

* P is for the people who can't understand *

* How one homeboy became a man

* S is for the way you scream and shout *

* One by one, he's knocking you out *

* K is for the way this DJ's cutting *

* All the MC's, you ain't see nothing *

* Rocking on to the break of dawn *

* I think Code Money, your time is on *

* Yeah

* From the eight-six to the nine-six *

(funky music)

* PSK is just making that green *

* People always say, what the hell does that mean *

* P is for the people who can't understand *

* How one homeboy became a man

* S is for the way you scream and shout *

* One by one, he's knocking you out *

* K is for the way his DJ's cutting *

* Other MC's, say you ain't seen nothing *

* Rocking on to the break of dawn *

* I think Code Money, your time is on*

(funky music)

- Laz! Where are you going?

- Goin' on a mission, little man.

- I wanna come with you.

- Nah, sorry. You go home with Hazer, all right?

- Please?

- Tell you what.

You go make your own mark, all right?

Go ahead, little big man.

- [Blest] When you're seven years old,

it's the little things you remember the most.

Like the night my brother Lazaro died.

All I can remember are these two markers.

- [Buk] Hey yo, Blest.

Hey yo, what the fuck you lookin' at, man?

Yo, come on man.

Get focused.

(dramatic music)

(radio chatter)

(sniffing)

(dramatic music)

- Hey man, thanks.

Listen.

(dramatic music)

(spraying)

- So what happened to your partner, man?

- Oh, he just uh.

He put in his 20, got his pension,

and took his family to Florida.

He just didn't wanna do it anymore.

So why'd you pick the vandal squad?

- Vandal squad picked me.

- What the hell does that mean?

- I'm a vandal.

I'm just like them, man.

Except I used to hit trains, the big shit.

Not this little street baller shit.

- Are you jerking my chain?

- No, I'm not.

- You were a writer?

- Yes, I was.

- Get the fuck outta here.

- Hey yo, down, down, down!

(chuckling)

- Stop fucking around, man.

- Come on man, why you acting like a little bitch?

Man, come on.

- Man, you acting like a little bitch.

Be serious.

- I'm just playing, man.

I'm tired of being lookout, man.

When am I gonna get my turn to paint?

- Yo man, you'll get your turn.

Right now you should be watching and learning.

Get off that punk smoove shit, too.

Get with that real shit, huh?

G-Unit!

- What line did you bomb?

- A's, twos, fives, whatever I could hit.

Whatever I could touch.

You probably chased my ass through

a couple of those yards, too Bobby.

- Now why the hell did you do that?

- What the fuck?

To express my artistic nature.

Whatever.

- Oh man, artistic nature.

- Oh shit, yo.

Peep this, yo.

Woo, son.

- [Buk] What?

- Check this shit out.

- Oh, shit.

- Oh shit.

- Let me tell ya something, man.

You're a young guy.

You probably don't remember

but in like the mid '80s, late '80s,

New York was a shit hole.

It was a shit hole, man.

Even SoHo was a shit hole.

You go into Bowery, there's like hundreds

of cardboard boxes with people living in it.

Graffiti all over the fucking place.

Hookers all over the place.

And I got nothing against hookers.

You want one you should call an 800 number,

you do it in your house.

Do it in your own home.

So your kids don't have to look at it

when they're going to school.

So Giuliani comes in, Bratton,

cleaned up the whole city.

The whole god damn city.

Now look at Times Square now,

it's like Disneyland.

People can go to work.

There's no fucking graffiti, the trains are nice.

This graffiti shit, you wanna be an artist?

Go to school to become a fucking artist.

You don't ruin the whole city.

I don't get it man, I'm sorry.

- Oh shit, you see her taking top.

Bro, she got her top off, B.

What the?

What the fuck is he doing?

What the fuck was that?

- Oh shit.

- Yo, quit fucking around, man.

- What's up, man? You've gotta see this.

- Where the fuck you from?

- Bay Ridge, Brooklyn.

- You're from Brooklyn? - Yeah.

- You don't sound like it.

- Heh, well I'm from Brooklyn.

- Yeah, well coming up in the '80s

on my block you had two choices.

Either you take the paint or you take the pipe.

It was either you're an artist or a gangster.

And those gangsters used to see me everyday

and be like, yo, Shorts.

Why don't you slang this rock?

Yo, Shorts, man you're a sucker.

Don't you like money?

Don't you like girls?

Don't you like bitches?

Why you got paint on your hands?

Shorts, why don't you slang this fucking rock?

That gangster is in a wheelchair right now

with bullets in his fucking back.

That was the gangster.

People push him around.

And the artists that I came up with,

the graffiti artists, they're holding down decent jobs.

Okay?

I got a decent job.

- You're a cop now, brother.

Don't forget it.

- Likewise.

- All right, all right.

Let's bounce, let's bounce.

- Buk Fifty.

- Let's bounce.

(dramatic music)

- Hey yo, do your thing, kid.

Hey yo, don't forget to take those cans with you.

- All right.

(dramatic music)

- Let's fuck 'em up.

(dramatic music)

- Hey.

Oh shit.

- Oh shit!

- Hold on, Vandal Squad.

Hey, you run, you pay.

You run, you pay, you little!

Stop.

- [Blest] Graffiti writers always run from the cops.

Why?

'Cause we've got the biggest balls out

of anyone you know.

- Man, fuck.

Oh, shit!

I want his fucking sneakers, you take his watch.

- Yeah.

- Come on, let's be out.

- Damn, man. What too y'all so long?

- Fucking bitch ass Bobby Cox, man.

- Oh, word?

- Come on, we gotta bounce, yo.

- Yo, where we going, Hazer's?

- No, no, we ain't going to Hazers.

You going home, man.

- Come on, man. Not again, man.

- Let him roll, Justin. - Word.

- You gotta go to school tomorrow, man.

If I find out you cut school again

I'm gonna bust your ass, you heard?

- Yeah man, all right.

- Yeah, yeah.

- All right.

- All right, yo, peace kid.

- All right, yo. - Good job tonight.

- Word, you too, man.

(funky music)

- Shit man, what the?

- Put your hands on the car!

- Man, what the fuck?

- There we go, put your hands behind your back.

- Chill man, that shit's too fucking tight.

- Give me that fucking hand.

- Shut the fuck up!

Feel better now?

- What the fuck did I do, yo?

- Watch your head, we'll break your head.

- Fuck you!

- Fuck me? Fuck you.

- Bitch ass, baby.

- Fuck, man.

You're crazy, man.

Shit.

It's happening.

What's going on, guys?

What's up?

What's up, man?

My people, man.

(murmuring)

(funky music)

Hazer!

- Hey!

Come here, baby. Give me some love.

- Sheepdog!

- How you doing, man?

- Good, good.

- Where you been?

What's up, cheers.

- Bombing, as usual.

You know the deal.

Yo, we got chased by Bobby Cox tonight.

- Bobby Two Cox?

Man, I can't believe that mother fucker

is still on the force.

He was chasing me and your brother around 15 years ago

when we were tagging trains, you know that?

- Yo, yo!

- Oh, Noble!

- Ha, ha!

- What's up?

- What up, felon?

- It smells like drugs in here.

- Not till you walked in.

- What's up, Hazer?

Yo, I saw you on TV last night.

- Oh, si, si.

(chuckling)

Yo, habla espanol?

- No, just wanted a good laugh.

- That's cute.

Yo, where'd you get these, man?

- They fell off a truck.

- Nice, man.

- Hey, yo, yo, yo.

You got that tape for me?

- Pladow!

- Uh, this is that shit I've been telling you.

- You got something for me too, man?

- Get Well Soon?

- Gracias.

- I've been waiting for this.

- The average New Yorker sees upwards

of 50 pieces of graffiti a day.

But they never stop to think about

the stories behind those pieces.

- Ah!

- Oh, check it out.

Check it out, look at this.

- Yeah, this is my favorite part.

This nigga's crazy, right here.

That masked marauder, B.

(funky music)

Yo, let me tell y'all mother fuckers something, man.

You see this shit right here?

This shit puts holes in your brain the size of tennis balls.

Why y'all be fucking with this?

- Myself, it's all about the art.

Shit, man. I'll be up in galleries tomorrow, you know.

A lot of writers think they're selling out

but fuck that.

I love this art.

You know, it's in my veins.

I feel like a heroin addict.

I've gotta get my fix.

Graffiti is art.

- Oh, that's sick right there.

- [Blest] It's expression coming out

of a simple can of paint.

Look, it's the easiest way for the average kid

to get fame using himself as the medium.

- You're gonna get into that gallery real soon, man.

- Word.

You're gonna be famous one day.

- Why you always say that?

- 'Cause it's true.

Better be, bail my ass out of jail.

(scoffs)

- [Blest] I mean, it's instant fame.

There's a difference between graff writers.

Don't think we're all the same.

Some catch tags for name.

- Born undisputed king, 50 across your face.

- [Blest] Some for the art.

And some just for mass destruction.

- I'm not really with the whole gallery shit,

you know what I mean?

Graffiti doesn't belong in a gallery.

It belongs on the street where it started from.

You know what I mean?

- Even when I'm 80 years old,

I'm gonna still be catching tags

on the walls of the old folks home.

- Yo, check this out, man.

Graffiti is like, my thing.

That's what I do.

Not a day goes by that I don't get at least, what?

One tag, you know what I mean.

Quit graffiti? You'd have to kill me first, bro.

- [Blest] It's all about the art.

It's all about the art.

It's all about the art.

It's all about the art.

It's all about the art.

- [Buk] I could show you better than I could tell you.

Watch this.

(funky music)

(glass shattering)

(ominous music)

- [Buk] Yo, it's your mom.

Yo, sleepy hollow.

(gasping)

It's your moms, man.

- Huh?

- It's momma.

- Oh, fuck it.

Hello?

- Oh hey, Anthony, it's mom.

- [Blest] I know. What do you want?

- I just wanted you to know

you got some letters back from some colleges.

- Well, did you open 'em?

- Yeah.

It's okay, the best ones haven't come back yet.

I've got faith, I'm a believer.

- That makes one of us.

- Yeah, have you found a job yet?

- [Blest] I'm working on it.

- Yeah.

- Actually, me and Noble have a few interviews

scheduled for today.

(rattling)

- Shit.

- Hey Papa, call the cops!

- Oh, fuck.

- [Clerk] You mother bitches!

- [Blest] Racking spray paint is the one

and only way for a graffiti writer to acquire his tools.

Writers who buy their own cans are considered toys.

Bitch made pussies with no heart.

Racking is a must.

And it was so damn easy for us, too.

- Okay, are you ready?

Stick and move, stick and move.

- [Blest] Noble didn't write graff.

He tried to, but well, he sucked.

Noble just loved to steal.

He loved the art of theft.

I mean, he really got off on that shit.

Clothes, small appliances, CDs, lampshades, whatever.

- Hey!

- [Blest] And he was a fucking maniac.

- I'll take both of you fucks!

(bell ringing)

- Probation must be a bitch, huh?

Yo, how many hours you got left?

Like 1,000?

- What?

- Keep pushing them brooms, bitch.

- [Blest] I like to say that probation made Justin stronger.

But fuck it, I was just happy I wasn't

the one cleaning toilets.

- Justin!

Broady?

- [Buk] Yeah?

- Your brother's on the phone.

- My brother?

(seagulls squawking)

(buzzing)

- Ahimsa.

(singing in foreign language)

- Where are we?

- I just need to pick up some shit.

I'll only be five minutes.

Hey, how much did we get?

- About 25 cans.

- I love it, man. I fucking love it.

Hey, listen.

When we walk down here you can't talk.

You can't say anything, okay?

- What the fuck is this?

- A Hindu temple.

- On a boat?

- Just trust me, okay.

- Yeah, yeah.

- Take off your shoes.

(singing in foreign language)

- Noble, come here.

(speaking in foreign language)

- Namaste, what can I do for you?

- Get Well Soon.

(speaking in foreign language)

- Go home.

- Come on, dog, it's me.

- I told you I could not help you anymore.

Go, go, go home!

(murmuring)

What are you looking?

Sit down, god damn it.

You sit down!

- Sorry, Kumar Baba, he didn't know.

- Okay.

(speaking in foreign language)

(singing in foreign language)

- What do you write?

- Blest.

- Yeah?

No, seriously?

- Yeah.

- Let me see.

Damn, I've seen you up all over the city.

- Are you a writer?

- Not exactly.

Basically--

- What's your name? - Alex.

- Shh.

- All right.

Ah!

Party tonight.

- Cool.

Thanks.

* Let he who is without sin cast the first stone *

* After you who's last, it's Doom *

* He's the worst known

* That'll have your boom blown or even thirst bone *

* Rock it 'til it burst clone

* Just don't curse the throne

* Own his own microphone

* Bring it everywhere he go

* So he can bring it to you live in stereo *

* Pan it, can't understand it, ban it *

* The underhanded ranted, planned it, *

* And left 'em stranded

* The best, any who profess

* Will be remanded

* Yes sir, request permission to be candid *

* Granted

* I don't think we can handle a style so rancid *

* They flipped it like a madlib, did an old Jazz standard*

(light jazz music)

- Yo, Blest! What's up, man?

- Yo, shit. Lee, what's up?

- How you doing, man?

- Hey yo, you got a minute?

- Sure, sure, why not man?

What's happening?

- So when's your book dropping, man?

- Soon enough, man.

Shuffling, hustling, photographs, the storyline.

It's all good.

- Yo, I've been hearing real good things, man.

- Yeah, 25 years in the making, man.

Yo, your hangovers on the Westside Highway, phew, ill.

Shit, man.

Props to you, man! Come on.

- No, mad props to you, B.

- Thank you, man, thank you.

A lot of cats always associate that with luck, you know?

But I work all that luck on my favor.

You know, I work it.

My steelo has all been built on that.

While they slept, I painted.

Just like you doing, you know what I'm saying?

- Word.

- Yo, go beyond all the theoretical imitations

that they are gonna put on you.

You understand what I'm saying?

- Mm, yo, I feel that.

- Okay, man. You know it like a poet.

Cool man.

- Good to see you, man.

- All right man, same, same.

- All right, peace.

(funky music)

- Remember me?

- Hey, I didn't think you'd come.

- Of course.

- Hey, sit down.

- Thanks. - Uh-huh.

So, what's up?

- Not much.

(funky music)

- Excuse me for a minute.

- Yeah.

(funky music)

- Yo, what's going on, man?

- They got him, man.

- Who?

- Kevin.

- What?

What the fuck are you talking about?

We were with him last night.

What they got him for the piece we did?

- No, no, nothing like that.

They got him for some dumb shit

like shop lifting a 40.

(chortle)

- You think that's funny?

- He popped his cherry, no big deal.

- It shouldn't have been a big deal

except for the fact that Bobby Cox really

couldn't charge him with anything except

a slap on the wrist.

Considering he's only 15.

So, what does he decide to do?

He's teaching him a lesson.

He takes his wallet.

Takes him way out to Jersey and leaves him there.

- Oh, that old trick.

- Yeah man, but it gets worse, man.

He took a box cutter to his face

and gave him something to remember, B.

- Oh shit!

Is he gonna be okay?

- Yeah, he's gonna be all right, man.

You know Lune, he's a trooper, man.

Yo, in about two hours we're gonna go

on a mission and tear it up, kid.

- Yeah, I don't think that's such a good idea, man.

- Are you serious?

- Yeah, I think we should chill

for a minute until things calm down.

Plus Kevin should get some rest.

I'm sure he's all types of fucked up right now.

I mean, don't get me wrong.

I think it's fucked up what Cox did to Kev,

but that's the game.

You know that better than anyone.

- Yeah, but fuck that, Anthony.

That's my little brother, man.

Look man, I say we go to war with the Vandal Squad, man,

and we sets it off tonight.

We're gonna bomb state buildings, federal buildings,

and government buildings.

Mother fucking Gracie Mansion, man.

Yo, hitting up tags on police cars, B.

Now's the time to do what we've been talking

about doing for years.

The Brooklyn Bridge, the Brooklyn Bridge.

What's up there, come on, man!

What's up with all the heart pumping Kool-Aid, man?

We're supposed to be in this together, man.

Yo, Lazaro would have had your back in a minute

if this shit went down with you, B.

Don't front.

- You don't need to go there.

Look, man.

You're too heated right now.

You're not thinking straight.

Take Kevin home, get some rest

and we'll figure all this out in the morning.

All right?

(funky music)

- Shoot, what was that all about?

You all right?

- Fucking Bobby Cox think he can scare me?

Shit man, we'll see who run the mother fucking street, man.

- Hey, hey.

- Bitch ass.

- Gangster! Gangster!

Come here, man.

Stop playing around, yo.

- What's up?

- How many cans you got?

- Shoot, I've got 10 at least.

I've got six in the bag

and four in my jacket.

- Okay, okay.

You got your fat caps?

- Yeah, I got it.

- You got your pager?

- Got it, man, got it.

- Five cans of flat black and white?

- Got it.

- Let me see your face, baby.

God damn.

All right, all right, all right.

I'm sorry, man.

I'm sorry, man, that happened to you, man.

If I was there that shit never would

have popped off, you know that, man.

- Yeah, man I know that shit, man.

- Look man, if anybody ask you where

you got that from tell 'em you got

it playing ball or something, you know what I'm saying?

- Shit nah, man.

I'm gonna tell 'em how I really got that shit, man.

Fucking Bobby Cox's bitch ass.

- Listen to me, man.

That shit right there ain't nothing to be proud of.

You feel me?

Lesson number one, real bad boys move in silence.

Lesson number two, we communicate with these, all right?

- Yeah, I got it, man.

- Love you, man.

- I love you too, man.

- Give me some love, man.

- Hey yo, so where's Blest, man?

- He's on a love boat, man.

(chuckling)

You've got another five years before

you're ready for that, kid. - Damn.

- Hey yo, listen, listen.

Tonight is the night, B.

We're gonna smash it out.

We're going from the Westside Highway

to the FDR Drive.

We're killing everything in between, man.

This is what you've been asking me for.

Is you ready?

Nigga, is you ready?

- I'm ready for this shit, man.

You know I've been waiting for this shit, baby.

- All right, yo.

All right, man, tighten up your boots

and let's get physical.

- Oh!

Oh my god.

Are you okay?

- Obviously dead bent.

- Come on.

Ven aqui, borracho loco.

Are you coming or what, big boy?

(funky music)

- Would it be out of line

to ask where the fuck we're going?

- Yo, who is this kid?

We ain't said nothing about bringing people.

- Chill out.

Anthony, this is my girl Toni.

My girl Keisha's driving.

You remember Anthony from before.

- What do you write?

- Blest.

- Word.

I think I seen you up.

Your shit's not bad.

Well, are you ready kid?

- Ready for what?

What the fuck you doing?

- Snipes, man.

- What, record label snipes?

- Hell no, man.

Subversive utilitarian fly posters and stencils.

- What the fuck does that mean?

- Check it out.

They're pretty self explanatory, really.

- Yo, y'all on some weird shit.

- It's definitely not some De La Vega shit,

that's for sure.

It's basically the same thing that you

and your crew do, except we're not just painting our names.

We're trying to send out a message, you know?

Taking back our public space.

Trying to use walls as a forum for political views.

Get it?

- I feel this.

- Just take 'em and stick 'em up as much as you can.

Okay?

If you get bored with that you can use this.

See, you've got your bag like this, right?

And you've got your can of paint in the bag.

And you find a good spot on the ground.

Just bend over and make it like you're looking

for something in the bag.

Spray the stencil, close up the bag,

and walk away.

- That's fucking genius.

(funky music)

Wait, give me that.

(spraying)

You need to work on your hand style.

(chuckling)

- You haven't even seen my hand style yet.

- Oh word?

(funky music)

(beeping)

- So, this is your bedroom?

- I guess so.

- Damn, what is all this?

- This is my life story.

- Wow, that's really amazing.

So, how'd you get this place, anyway?

- Ah, it's not really my place.

Hazer's just letting me crash here

until I get a job or into college or some shit.

- Basically, until you figure your life out?

- Basically.

- That's nice of him.

You guys must be pretty tight.

- Yeah, he was my older brother's best friend

since the sand box.

- Really? So how'd he get such a dope place?

- He's on a soap opera on Telemundo.

- What, the Spanish channel?

- Yeah.

Play's Erik Estrada's son.

He's high the entire show.

It's fucking hilarious.

- So what's up with your brother?

What does he do now?

- He died when I was seven.

- I'm sorry.

- No, that's okay.

- You miss him?

- Everyday.

- And he was a graffiti writer too?

- Yeah, he's the best there ever was.

- So where can I see his work?

- Nowhere.

- Why not?

- 'Cause the city buffed it all years ago.

- All of it?

You mean there's not one piece of his graffiti left

in the entire city?

- No, trust me, I've looked all over.

- Wow, doesn't that make you really angry?

- Hell yeah, it does.

But that's the bitch about graffiti, it's temporary.

- Right.

So.

What do you think of me now?

- [Blest] What do you mean?

- [Alex] You know, after our first like, date.

- [Blest] Well, it definitely wasn't

your average night on town.

But honestly?

- [Alex] Mm-hm?

- [Blest] I was a little turned on.

- [Alex] How turned on?

I hope you're not gonna fall for me.

- I wasn't planning on it.

Hold that thought.

- Okay.

(cars honking)

(funky music)

- Yo.

You forgot something, bitch!

- You're a fucking wash up!

The Spanish channel sucks ass, too!

(scoffs)

- What?

What?

He sucks a great dick.

(chuckling)

It's really good, bro.

- Thanks.

- I think you're ready to get up in that gallery, man.

- Serious?

- Yeah, I'm serious.

Let me know when it's finished, all right?

Hm?

- Mm-hm.

- Damn.

Add a little green to the bottom there, all right.

(chuckling)

Yeah.

What?

(dialing)

- [Buk] Hello?

- Hey, what's up man?

- [Buk] What up, what up, kid?

- Yo, you wanna go bombing tonight?

- [Buk] Hell yeah.

That is, if you can fit it into your busy ass schedule.

- Nah man, it ain't like that.

I just met this really fly girl last night.

- [Buk] Nah, but yo check this out, B.

It's about to get real serious.

That faggot ass nigga Knife has been dissing all my pieces.

- Knife?

- [Buk] No doubt.

- Oh shit, that kid from All City Kings.

- [Buk] Yo, that kid, man.

I'm gonna find him and beat that ass.

I'm trying to tell you, man.

I'm tired of this, B.

He's going over all that hard work.

Look, we already declared war on the Vandal Squad.

Now it's time we rock the rest of the city.

Is you down, or what?

- I'm down.

(funky music)

- Special delivery.

- Woo!

- Damn!

- Huh?

You know what I'm saying?

- Shit, holla at your boy.

- That shit is crazy.

- [Buk] No doubt. Woo!

(funky music)

(light music)

- Fuck this job.

If I wasn't a cop I'd be a superstar actor.

Yeah, sure.

Fucking bitches, room service, bitches.

- Nah man, you don't need to be

a fucking movie star to get fucked everyday.

You're a cop.

You just pinch a hooker, man.

- What?

- Yeah, they'll do anything to get off.

They'll fuck ya, they'll blow ya,

they'll lick your ass to get off.

You know how many times I got fucked

in the back of that car?

- That's disgusting.

You mean to tell me that's what that smell is back there?

- Hell yeah.

- Bobby Cox mother fucking car right there, man.

- You sure that's his shit?

- Yeah man, that's his shit.

- I don't want that shit on my clothes.

- Oh man.

Hey, don't fucking smell my fucking food!

- Yo.

- What the fuck's wrong with you?

- Three dollars?

- Hey, he's with me.

- I'm a cop, okay.

Five dollars, hey you're a funny mother fucker.

You know what I mean?

We're not paying shit.

You're lucky we protect your fucking ass.

It stinks in there, man.

- Hey man, it keeps me going through the night.

- I got some shit on my dogs from some lady.

Oh!

They bombed the fucking office, man.

- Fucking mother fuck!

- Bobby, the fucking cock suckers!

- Who the fuck?

Hey!

(bystanders laughing)

Fuck me!

Prick bastards, you're fucking dead.

They're fucking dead!

- Who did that?

You see somebody?

You, huh? No?

Fucking bombed the office.

- Come on.

- They gimped us.

(honking)

- [Driver] Hola, Hazer.

(chuckling)

- Mother fucker.

Tight.

- Yo, so what's up with the spot?

- Yeah, I discovered this spot last week, man.

Nobody's ever even been there before.

- Hyste, what the fuck you doing, man?

That's gotta be the worst straight letter I ever seen, man.

- I did a burn up there already.

I wanted to surprise you.

- I smoked too much dust, man.

- Go home, man.

- I can't even lift my arms, man.

- Yo, go home, man.

- Yo, this is piece is gonna be here for years.

Nobody will ever touch it.

- I'm going back to my mom's house, man.

- I'll finish my shit.

Yo, go home, man.

- Yo, what the fuck!

(funky music)

- Oh shit.

Whoa.

Yo, man what's up?

- I wanna personally congratulate you on that article.

You guys are fresh.

- [Blest] You go over someone's piece

you will get your ass beat.

- Nah, you guys are fresh.

- [Buk] Beating asses daily.

- Hey, hey, come here, bitch.

(grunting)

Yo, yo, chill, he's had enough.

Chill, chill. He's had enough.

- Let me stomp that mother fucker out, Blest.

- No man, look at him.

- What the fuck, are you a pussy or something, man?

- Jesus, Kevin!

What the fuck's the matter with you?

- What I miss, man?

You all right?

You all right? What'd I miss?

- Nothing.

(funky music)

- Hey.

- How'd you get in here?

- Hazer let me in.

- You can't stick around.

- Why? Where you off to, superstar?

What happened to your shirt?

You got blood all over it.

- Nothing, forget about it.

- What's wrong?

- Look, you gotta bounce.

Hazer's having a party tonight

to celebrate that bullshit article

and I've gotta help him get ready.

- And I'm not invited?

- No.

You don't wanna come anyways.

It's gonna be a bunch of kids sitting around,

drinking 40s, smoking blunts,

and talking about how great they are.

Same old shit that happens every fucking night.

- I see.

Can you just relax for a minute?

Can you just please sit down?

I've been waiting here for a couple of hours

trying to figure out what to say to you.

- What do mean say to me?

What's wrong? Are you pregnant?

- Ha, ha, no!

No, it's nothing like that.

I kind of had ulterior motives

when I brought you out with us the other night.

- Like what?

- Like.

I just think that you're an amazing artist

and I was hoping that if you were liking

what we were doing that you could start coming out with us.

You know, you could get down with my crew.

- No, if I'm risking going to jail

it's gonna be for bombing and nothing else.

- Yeah, I know you love bombing

but it's about time you did something more meaningful

with your talent.

Don't you think its time for some kind of progression?

- You call what you do progression?

Sticking posters up on walls?

At least what I'm doing is considered art.

You're just spreading propaganda and for what?

- And for what?

This is how I communicate.

This is how I express myself

and through a simple can of paint,

I know that you know what that feels like.

Walk down any street in New York,

really any major city in this country for that matter,

and what do you see?

You see bullshit corporate advertising

that's all essentially saying the same shit.

Buy this and you'll be happy.

America's over saturated with it.

It's disgusting.

And you know what's amazing to me

is that people actually feed into it.

They're brainwashed.

They want to be told what to do

and they don't wanna have to think for themselves.

We're doing the same thing

but we're not selling anything to the public.

We're trying to change the way people think.

I'm sorry that I'm going off on a tangent here.

It's just, it's really important to me

that you understand why I do this.

Because what I came here to actually tell you

is that me and my girls are heading out next week.

- Out where?

- I just wanna say first of all that I'm really sorry.

I know this is fucked up.

And I wish I woulda just been straight up

with you from the beginning.

But honestly, I.

I didn't really expect to get so close to you so soon.

- Hey yo, Blest.

Man yo, it's official, man.

Check out my new tat, man.

I'm telling you, it's gonna take it

to a whole 'nother level, man.

For real.

- [Alex] This has never happened to me before.

- [Blest] Me either.

- [Alex] That's great, but I'm definitely doing this.

My plans are already set.

- Peep my new four finger ring, kid.

Yo, I got this new scheme boosting microwaves.

NYU kids pay top dollar for that shit.

Are you in?

- [Alex] We're packing up the van

and we're going cross country.

We're gonna hit up every city along the way.

- Ya so yu go ba to da tha go do day be fo aight?

- [Alex] I talked to my girls already

and they think I'm fucking crazy, but,

I would really love for you to come with me.

- [Blest] You want me to just pack up

my shit and head out with you?

Are you serious?

- Fix your face, man.

You lookin' all sad and sorry and shit.

It ain't that deep, man

Yo, we the illest crew in the world right now.

We Telemundo kid, ah yeah.

- [Alex] Listen, I just want you to know

that I really care about you.

You just might be the first guy I actually fall for.

So, just really think about it, okay?

(funky music)

- Yo!

Yo, Blest, boogie.

What's up, B?

Where you going?

Why'd you leave that party?

That shit is hot, man.

- Sorry man, I just needed to get some air.

- I've fucking had it with you little fucking pricks!

Where's that fucking paint?

- I told you man, we weren't painting, man.

- Oh, you weren't fucking painting, huh?

Turn around.

I'm fucking not kidding.

I've had it with you little mother fuckers!

Where's the paint?

- What the fuck, are you crazy, man?

- Yo, Bobby are you crazy, man?

Put that shit--

- Where's the fucking paint?

- Bobby, we ditched them in the trash can, man.

Three blocks down.

- Oh shit, it's your best friend, Knife.

- Shorts, get the fucking paint.

Three blocks down.

You'll hook me up?

- I'll hook you up, man.

What's up man.

- What are you digging for gold, what?

- [Shorts] No doubt!

- What's happening?

- Not bad, not bad.

- See em. - Good.

- [Shorts] Who's cellphone is this, huh?

- [Mayo] It's my cellphone.

- [Shorts] It's my cellphone!

It's mine!

Where the money at?

Got any jewelry, rings?

(sniffing)

- Oh, that's not kosher.

- Not bad, it's not bad.

- Yo.

- [Shorts] What's this a bullet?

That's a year, punk!

- Get the fuck over here, come here.

Give it to me all.

All of it.

Don't make me cut your pockets.

Don't hold out on me.

- That's all I got, man.

- Come on, all of it.

- That's all I got, man.

- Very good.

- I'll give you a chance.

Show me where the paint is, come on.

(sniffing)

- Oh shit.

- Mother fuck.

- Follow me man, come on.

- Where the fuck are we going?

- Mother fuckers.

(Buk humming)

- Yo, where are we going?

- Where are we going?

Right there.

- You're kidding, right?

- Nah B, that's what's up.

I'm not doing it without you, man.

- Then we're not doing it.

(shattering glass)

- What the fuck?

Hey, you got something you wanna say to me, man?

- Yeah I do, man.

If you wanna be on some old lovey-dovey shit,

that's cool.

But if you wanna represent this crew,

you need to take it a lot more seriously.

- Just because I got a girl

doesn't mean I'm not taking this seriously.

- You think?

We're supposed to be at war with Bobby Two Cox

and you told me you had my back.

What happened to that shit?

I mean I'm out there bombing every night,

holding down a full-time job everyday.

And 1,500 hours of community service

for some dumb shit you did.

Now that's serious.

- We did it, Justin, it's over.

We're the kings of New York, everyone knows that.

Chill out.

Take a break and enjoy your 15 minutes of fame.

- 15 minutes of.

Is that what you think I want?

15 minutes of, I don't want no fucking 15 minutes of fame.

I want 15 decades, B.

Just because we're on top right now

doesn't mean we can sit back and relax.

Nah, bro.

This is when shit get ill.

People aren't gonna really understand

what we've been doing at least for the next 10 years.

We gotta keep pushing it to the next level, B.

Graffiti, in case you didn't know,

is something you gotta eat, sleep, and breathe 24/7, 365.

If you can't feel that then maybe you should step off.

- I get it now.

You're pissed off about the article, right?

- What?

- Yeah, they said my name and not yours.

You think they jerked you.

- Yo man, you're stupid, man.

I'm not jealous of you.

Beyond Artistic Definition is my crew

and every time you get recognition,

you represent me, you understand?

When you get burned, I get burned.

We're in this together, B.

I'm a team player.

That's the difference between me and you.

Because you're not focused,

the whole team is hurting, you feel me?

So I'll ask you one more time,

are you in or are you out?

- Oh fuck, man.

I don't even know anymore, all right?

Graffiti used to be fun.

Now it fucking blows.

Ever since that damn article came out,

our pieces have been getting buffed

as fast as we paint them.

Some of the best work I've ever done is gone.

Gone forever.

It's a joke, man.

It's all one big circle.

We do a piece, so they erase it.

So we paint it all over again.

Over and over and over again.

What's the fucking point, man?

When's it gonna stop, huh?

You think I need to get focused?

You need to get a fucking life.

(ominous music)

- Yo, what's up, Blest?

- Yo, what's up, guys?

Mom!

Mom?

- Hey!

You hungry?

- So, what's the surprise?

- Shall we tell him?

You ready?

- I'm all ears.

- You got a letter from that art school in San Francisco.

- So?

- So, I opened it.

You got in, congratulations.

Anthony!

Are you stoned?

You got into college, this is huge.

This is what we've been waiting for all year.

- No, what you've been waiting for.

- What do you mean?

Don't you tell me you're not going.

- I don't know.

- You have no choice, you're going.

- How are you gonna afford it?

- How does anyone pay for college?

Scholarships, loans.

- Don't waste your money, Mom.

- Anthony, what the hell is the matter with you?

I thought you'd excited.

- I'm sorry, maybe it's not what I want.

- So what are you gonna do?

Keep running around in the streets

painting graffiti like your brother?

- No, of course not.

- Well then what are you doing

that's any different from what he did?

You're going down the same road.

I've been through this before.

I saw it happen to your brother,

I'm seeing it happen to you.

- Mom.

- Anthony!

I won't go through that again.

I refuse to go through that again.

It's too painful.

If you don't wanna change

then you're on your own.

- I got something for you.

- These are so cool.

- Yeah, you be careful with them, okay?

They really mean a lot to me.

- Thanks, Anthony.

- You're welcome.

Hey, do me a huge favor, okay?

Take care of ma.

If you do that then I promise I'll come back soon.

- Deal!

- Deal.

I'll think about it.

(dramatic music)

- Ah.

Paris.

- What?

- Paris, man.

My wife took my kid, she met somebody,

and she ran off to Paris.

- That's rough, man.

- Yeah.

- Paris is beautiful, man.

You should get out there, man.

- I will. I'm gonna save up my money one day

and get my kid.

You've been?

- Yeah, I've been to Paris.

Took the wife for the third anniversary.

Damn, brother, what the fuck you doing?

- What do you mean?

- Slow down with that shit, man.

Fuck, we're on a stakeout, man.

- You sure you don't want some, man?

- I don't want that shit, man.

Stop asking me that shit.

(spraying)

- Ha, hey look.

The fuckin prick.

- Yeah, yeah, what's up?

- Hey listen, listen.

- We got Blest right there!

That's that fucking nigga Blest!

- Relax, relax.

- Yo, give me the handcuffs.

- We'll see where he goes.

- What the fuck is in this car, Bobby?

- Listen to me!

- Be cool, let's watch where he goes.

He'll either lead us to the mother fuckers

that had the balls to tag our car.

There he goes.

- Oh man.

- Yo, who that?

Oh, what's up, Blest?

- What's up?

- How are you, man?

- Hey, what's up, man?

How you feeling?

- Feeling good, feeling good.

- Yeah?

- Yeah.

- God damn, that is a fat ass.

- Yo, what do you want, man?

- A peace offering.

- Oh shit!

- Mm-hm.

- Yo, this is Lazaro's piece book, man.

- That's a piece of graffiti history right there, man.

- Hell, yeah.

Yo, this is deep, man.

- You've got my fucking back tonight, right?

- Yeah, hold up, hold up, man.

I said I got your back, man.

- Good.

Let's go break some fucking bones.

- Come on, man.

Fuck that shit, man.

- Mm.

- Nights like this, boy.

Reminds about how much I love graffiti, man.

You know, the colors, the blends, the smell of the paint.

The fact that knowing that thousands

of people are gonna be on that train tomorrow morning

and they're gonna look up here and be like,

who in the hell did that shit right there, nigga!

(chuckling)

Who are them mother fuckers, man?

When did they do that?

Who did that and why did they do it?

You know what I'm saying? - Uh-huh.

- That's us, man!

We did that shit, man.

- They all hate us now, man.

- Man listen, the hate I can deal with, man.

Anonymity, I can't.

You know what I'm saying?

How about you little baby bro?

- I mean, I just like hanging out with you guys,

doing shit together, I guess.

That's all I need to make me happy.

Sometimes when I'm sitting at a party without you guys

it's like 30 people around me talking,

being all loud and happy and shit.

I just get really sad and lonely for no reason.

I mean, it's like the more people you're around

that you don't know, the lonelier you get.

But when I'm out painting with y'all, man.

Shit, it's on, you know?

If you guys weren't around, man.

It's be the scariest thing on earth.

- I gotta tell you guys something.

- What's up?

- [Shorts] Gangstas!

- Oh shit.

- Ha, ha, ha!

Come here!

- Yo mopes, Vandal Squad.

Nice thing you wrote on my car.

- Aw, are you kidding me?

- Fuck it, man.

- Yo Bobby, Bloomberg should give us a medal, right?

- Yeah.

- Anyway, we gonna do this city a favor.

- Yo Kevin, you all right man?

- Yeah, man.

- Got any sharp objects on you?

- No.

- Huh? - No.

- Anything you ain't supposed to have?

- No.

- Hey, can we stop all

the fucking Starsky and Hutch shit, man?

We ain't terrorists.

Now just take us in, man,

we'll do some bullpen therapy, man.

We'll go see the judge tomorrow.

We'll be out here bombing tomorrow night, man come on.

- Really?

- Yeah, man.

- You think so?

- Yeah, come on, come on.

Let's get it over with.

Quit playing games, man.

- Pick up the paint, not you.

Punk. Punk!

I'm talking to you, get that paint.

Hurry up, now! Get that paint, move it!

Come here.

Come here, right here.

Right here!

Empty the can.

Hey mope, mope!

I didn't say on the roof.

Empty it on him.

Empty it on him!

You wanna go to jail?

Empty the can.

- Just let us go, guys.

- It's all right, right here, okay?

Do it, go ahead man.

Just do it, man.

Go ahead.

- Fuck this shit, man!

- Hey yo, what the fuck?

Get off my brother, man.

- I'll break his neck.

- Bobby.

- Hey, get the fuck off my brother, man.

What the fuck you doing, man?

(shouting)

Get the fuck off my brother, man.

- Come on, what are you doing to him.

Come on.

- No, take that gun out of here.

- Fuck him up, Bobby.

- Take off that gun and the badge, faggot.

- Come on, you wanna go?

(grunting)

- Get down, get down, kid.

(shouting)

- Fuck him up!

- Yeah! Yeah!

A pussy!

- All right bro, all right, bro.

Relax, relax, relax.

- Mother fucker!

You think you can fuck with us!

- Put the gun down, Bobby.

Come on, man.

Just lock me up and let's forget about it.

This is going too far.

(smacking)

- Shut up! What'd you write on the car?

- I wrote, fuck the Vandal Squad.

- Say it louder, what?

- Fuck the Vandal Squad.

- Fuck the Vandal Squad?

You wanna fuck me boy?

You wanna fuck me in the ass?

- Come on, Bobby, man.

Yo, Bobby, you bugging the fuck out.

- You're right, I arrest you,

you're out on the street tomorrow!

- Bobby man, I didn't mean nothing.

- And I gotta do this again! And again!

Over and over and over!

- Stop! Hey, fuck, that's enough!

(gunshot)

- What the f--

- Justin!

- Oh my god!

- Justin!

Holy shit!

- You stupid mother!

- I didn't mean it!

It was an accident!

I didn't mean it!

- I should shoot you right fucking now, Bobby!

I should shoot you in your fucking face!

You know what this means?

- Look, we can fix this.

All right, all right, Shorts?

You got my back, right?

You rat! Shorts!

Man what is!

(heavy breathing)

(ominous music)

(chuckling)

- Let you know exactly how I feel.

Huh?

Go ahead.

Get me in the mouth.

Right here, right here.

Put it there.

I'm thirsty.

Ha, ha!

- And the leg roll!

(ominous music)

- [Noble] Blest, it's Noble.

Yo, mad props.

You are all over the news, kid.

They don't know its you, but we all know its you.

Justin's memory will last forever now, dog.

- [Alex] Anthony, it's Alex, are you there?

Listen, I'm leaving tomorrow morning.

I really wish you'd call me.

I don't know if you're in trouble or if you're okay.

I don't, I don't know.

I don't know.

If you don't wanna come with me, it's fine.

I really won't be upset.

I totally understand.

As long I just can, you know,

talk to you one last time.

So I'm leaving tomorrow morning at 11:00.

I'll wait for you in that parking lot by the bridge.

But if you're not there by 12:00 then, just call me, okay?

(ominous music)

(ringing)

- Yo, Blest!

(bell ringing)

Blest!

Blest, man!

* You feed me to the lions

* A delicate balance

(ethereal music)

* And this just feels like

* Spinning plates

* I'm living in cloud cuckoo land *

* And this just feels like

* Spinning plates

* My body is floating down

* The muddy river

(ethereal music)

(train horns blaring)

(knocking)

- Hey, get up, man!

Are you awake in there?

Get the fuck up, Bobby.

Whew, god.

Shit, man you been drinking a little?

You been drinking a little in here?

You don't give a fuck, do you?

Yo.

And you don't give a fuck about nothing.

You need to get out of the city, man.

You're fucked up.

- Aw, fuck.

- I gotta be at IA in 20 minutes.

- Fuck head.

- What?

It's over, bro.

You fucked us up.

In 20 minutes I've gotta be at IA.

That advice you was giving me.

I'm telling 'em every fucking thing, man.

You killed that fucking kid.

You shoulda took it yourself, man.

I ain't got no choice.

You sure as fuck don't care.

You know what you did?

You canceled out my choices, Bobby.

That's what the fuck you did.

You fucking stink.

Not even a fucking bath is gonna clean you up.

Man, you hit rock bottom, bro.

Get out of the city, man.

Those wife and kids you were talking about.

Paris?

It's time for Paris.

'Cause your last tango is here man.

This is your fucking last tango here.

Thanks to you, I'm back on the outside.

Crossed over.

See you around, partner.

See you around, partner.

Hope you like sleeping in your lunch box.

- Well, well, well.

If it ain't Lazarus back from the dead.

- It's so clean in here.

- The maid finally came.

- I can't stop thinking about my brother.

The night he died you were there.

You took me home, I remember.

- Yeah, I mean I remember too.

I mean, so.

- So, what happened that night?

- So what happened is what I told you.

I was supposed to go out bombing with him.

And then you showed up.

Then he told me to take you home and I did.

But I realized that I couldn't have been there that night.

You see, it was his mission.

Your brother man, he was obsessed with finding

that ultimate spot to bomb, you know?

That one spot where his greatest piece of art

would live on forever.

The Brooklyn Bridge was that spot.

- Yeah, but they erased it after a few weeks.

- Yeah, but it's in all the history books.

It's eternal.

You know what I think?

I think your brother never planned

to come down off that bridge.

Anthony, you're not your brother.

You've got a chance to make something truly eternal.

Take it.

Pack your bags, man.

Go to Cali.

Live your life.

God damn it, take fucking little Lune with you.

- Oh shit!

Kevin.

- Kid's been bombing night and day.

Hanging out at Kumar Baba's.

Come on, man, that's no place

for a 15 year old to be hanging.

(funky music)

- Hey, Kev.

What cha gonna do with that, man, huh?

- Ice that mother fucker, man.

- What?

- I'm gonna shoot that mother fucker straight in the face.

- No, man. No, man.

We going back to Hazer's.

- I'm staying.

- Look, man.

I am so sorry I didn't call you, all right?

I just needed a minute to get my mind right.

But I gotta plan now, all right?

I'm leaving for Cali tomorrow

and I want you to come with me.

We can figure out all this shit together.

All right?

- I miss my brother, man.

(sobbing)

- I know, I do too.

I do too.

(sobbing)

(dramatic music)

(sirens blaring)

- Yo man, fuck Buk?

Hey yo, you believe this shit, man?

You fucking believe this shit?

- Aw shit, come on, come on, come on.

Chill, chill, chill, chill.

Come on.

- Fuck, fuck.

Fuck them.

- Shit.

Vandal Squad mother fucker!

- Mother fucker, what are you doing?

- Look at his bitch ass, man.

- What the fuck you want from me?

- Why the fuck did you kill my brother, man?

(cackling)

Fucking shoot his ass, Anthony.

- Fuck your brother, man.

I didn't kill your brother.

He killed himself.

- Fucking shoot his ass, man.

- Ha, ha!

You don't have no fucking balls.

- Shoot his ass! - Shut up!

- Do it now!

- [Voice] Shoot him.

- I can't stop my arm from shaking.

- You, you, ha, ha!

- Shoot him man, he ain't shit.

- [Voice] Shoot him.

- I can't.

(gunshot)

- [Blest] In the end it all comes down to Karma.

Life is just one big circle constantly repeating itself.

You can't escape that.

We're all given choices.

You make the wrong choice and you pay for it.

You can't escape fate and you can't escape justice.

In a way, I'm glad all this happened.

It's my way out.

I truly am Blest.

(funky music)

(gunshot)

(funky music)

- [Lune] A graffiti writer never expects to get caught.

Just like a cop never expects to get shot.

I would tell you my story.

But it's only just beginning.

(ominous music)

(funky music)

(ethereal music)