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A reformed convict goes undercover with the help of an angry detective to ensnare a psychotic mobster.
Jimmy Kilmartin: [walking up to Omar's car] Hey how are you doing? Omar: The fuck do you want man? Jimmy Kilmartin: [Little Junior kills Omar] Oh my God! Oh my God! You killed him! Little Junior Brown: [puts cocaine in Omar's pocket] Have some coke on me Jimmy Kilmartin: Jesus! Jesus! What did you do? What did you do? WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO? Little Junior Brown: What did I do? You fuck with the bull, you get the horns. That's what I did
[about his father dying] Little Junior Brown: [to Kilmartin] What do you think's worse? Losing a father or a wife?
Jimmy Kilmartin: Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right? Little Junior Brown: Whatever don't...? Jimmy Kilmartin: Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Little Junior Brown: Whatever don't kill you makes... I like that.
Little Junior Brown: I have an acronym for myself. Know what it is? B.A.D. B.A.D... Balls, Attitude, Direction. You should give yourself an acronym... 'cause it helps you visualize your goals. Jimmy Kilmartin: How about F.A.B.? Fucked At Birth. Little Junior Brown: No good. Too negative.
Jimmy Kilmartin: What are you doing? What are you fuckin' doing? Little Junior Brown: What do you wanna know about the guy for? Huh? Jimmy Kilmartin: What guy? Little Junior Brown: Huh? Jimmy Kilmartin: What fucking guy? Jimmy Kilmartin: [after being patted down by Junior] I just did 3 years for... [pats Jimmy again] Jimmy Kilmartin: I did 3 years for you, you paranoid motherfucker. Full time, not a day less. For you! Little Junior Brown: What do you wanna know about the guy for? Jimmy Kilmartin: J.J. pointed him out to me like 2 minutes before you sat down. If he's got a big fuckin' mouth, take it up with him. I was trying to make a conversation. Little Junior Brown: [gives Jimmy as quick hug] It's been a hard week. I'm sorry. You wanna go for a ride? Let's go for a ride Jimmy Kilmartin: Okay.
Calvin Hart: Don't you know you can't go around hitting the police? Huh? What's wrong with you?
Ronnie: What the fuck? You guys look like the Gorton's fishermen Little Junior Brown: Ronnie, I want you to listen to this.
[at a bar] Little Junior Brown: See me tomorrow and we'll discuss things. [goes back to enjoy his drink] Jimmy Kilmartin: Wait a minute. Why not now? Little Junior Brown: I haven't been able to find my daughter in a while, and I've already planned the night grieving about it, so you'll just have to see me tomorrow. Jimmy Kilmartin: No, You see me now. [takes a tiny gun out] Jimmy Kilmartin: Tell me now! Go on! I want to hear it. Little Junior Brown: I ain't going back to jail. I'm tired. They didn't allow me to use silverware. I had to use my fingers. That's right, they didn't even allow me to use plastic spoons, forks, and knives! But I do hate the taste of metal in my mouth. That's why I refused to have braces. Jimmy Kilmartin: [puts gun on Brown's lip] Tell me what I want to know, or you'll never have a lip again. Little Junior Brown: You really going to do it? Jimmy Kilmartin: No, I got a better idea. You hate the taste of metal. Well, it's going in your mouth. Open up. [doesn't] Jimmy Kilmartin: I said open up. [pulls the trigger back] Jimmy Kilmartin: Come on, open up and say "ah".
Little Junior Brown: The time has come for everyone to clean out their own backyard.
Little Junior Brown: Hey, what's the what.
Frank Zioli: [to a FBI agent] You're not doing shit, because I'll go to the US attorney's office and once they find out t that he was a federal agent that you knew about from day 1? Holy shit what happens to you!
Ronnie: You know what your problem is? You're a liberal.
Calvin Hart: You see this eye here? Runs all the time. I can't make it stop. I got a third of my hearing in this ear. And when I go to the beach... when I take my kids to the beach and shit, strong direct sunrays give me a headache so bad I cry like a baby. They don't know why. It just does.
Calvin Hart: [about Omar] Cars, Drugs, Guns, he's buying whatever he can get his hands on.
Frank Zioli: Did you ever read about yourself in the paper, huh? Your balls shrivel to the size of chickpeas.