I want mandolins and violins...
Here...
There's your goddamn dinner.
Come on.
- Who was that on the phone?
- None of your business.
- Keep your mouth shut.
- I think it was your lady.
- What's her problem?
- The same as half the population.
She can't get the job she wants.
It pisses her off.
- What do you care?
- I'm in jail.
I was surrounded by guys
in blue suits 24 hours a day.
The clothes you wear,
you look like you'd love it.
- Where to, convict?
- Mission District. Indian hangout.
- Tell me about your girlfriend.
- I don't give out details.
I've been in prison. I'm tired
of hearing lies about pussy.
- Was it last week?
- Last night.
- Was it fun?
- Yeah...
In the morning
we got in a fucking argument.
At least you took care
of business first.
Does she have big titties?
I can see this is going
to be a long night, convict.
- What's the deal?
- Billy used to work at this club.
- I heard him talk about it.
- This is a bad neighbourhood.
You just back me up.
Pretend like you've got a piece.
They may beat me up,
but they'd kill you.
It's amazing how far a gun
and a badge will take some guys.
A bullshit attitude and experience
is what gets you through.
White cops
used to fuck with me and my friends.
- They just flash their badges.
- Experience is what counts.
- You want to bet?
- Two problems.
I ain't playing games,
and you've got nothing to bet with.
If we get any kind of lead, turn
your back and let me get some pussy.
Any man who talks about women
like you, can't get it up anyhow.
I've been in prison for three years.
My dick gets hard if the wind blows.
It's a bet, but when you lose,
you tell me the truth.
- What is Ganz after?
- What are you talking about?
Fuck you! The bet's off.
All right, look...
If I lose, I'll tell you everything
you want to know.
You've got a deal. Hell, I might
even give you my badge.
Bullshit and experience
is all it takes.
Come on and experience
some of my bullshit.
Not a popular place
with the brothers.
I always liked country boys.
They'll sure as hell like you.
Howdy.
- How do?
- Yeah?
I'd like something to drink.
Vodka.
How about a Black Russian?
Black Russian. That's a funny joke.
I'm black,
but I'd rather have plain old vodka.
As we're standing here talking, -
- I wonder if you know
where I could find Billy Bear?
- Never heard of him.
- Never heard of Billy Bear?
Look here...
- You heard of him now?
- What are you talking about?
- I'll look around for a while.
- I don't give a shit what you do.
Good.
I've never seen so many backward-ass
country fucks in my life.
You look like regulars.
I'm looking for Billy Bear.
This is our place, nigger.
You're a big, tough, country faggot.
Are you out of your mind?
Get up against that pole.
Do you think
I'm playing a goddamn game?
This is a police matter. I'm looking
for an Indian named Billy Bear.
I know everybody in here
wants to cooperate with me.
That's not even necessary.
I've got the situation in hand.
Some of us citizens
are behind you all the way, officer.
- What's you problem?
- I'm on parole.
Sit your country ass down.
Listen up.
I don't like white people.
I hate rednecks.
You people are rednecks.
I'm enjoying this shit.
- You're loaded here.
- Tax refund.
Bullshit!
You're too stupid to have a job.
You don't like that?
You hate that shit, right?
- What kind of cop are you?
- I'm your worst nightmare.
I'm a nigger with a badge. I can
kick your ass whenever I like.
One of them was underage,
another attacked a police officer.
You're going out of business.
Let's see
what we can fuck with next.
Okay, listen... The Indian
hangs out with a chick up the block.
Chinatown. She lives
on top of the jewellery store.
- I didn't ask about the girl.
- You'll have to settle for that.
That's all I know.
Look, hoss, you start
running a respectable business -
- and I won't have to come in here
and hassle you every night.