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.