Original subtitles

Washington is on his knees now!

Rozyski has done it.

Bang Bang has his vindication, and in only four months after

his brother Bobby's brutal loss, the future hall of famer,

Darnell Washington.

Bang Bang, just get out.

- Last year, I told my wife, - I said,

"Babe, I think I got that itch."

And her face dropped faster

than a cat lapping chain lightning.

- And she said to me, she said, - "Darnell,

I do not want to hear it.

You are too damn old to make a comeback."

I said, "I know, but I'm not talking about fighting

in the ring.

I'm talking about fighting for this city."

After countless hours of prayerful reflection

with family and friends, I realized that my decision.

No ramp?

Wasn't a decision at all.

It was a calling.

The fucking wheelchair.

Now, the road ahead is not gonna be easy.

You see, over the past few weeks,

I've talked to a lot of folks,

and I keep hearing the same words over, and over,

and over again.

Justice, respect, and change.

Because no matter who you are or what neighborhood

you come from,

I believe that we all want the same things.

The only question is, how do we get it?

No, I'm asking y'all.

How do we get it?

You can start by fixing my roof.

- Yeah, right. - You know what?

No, she's right.

'Cause when we talk housing crisis repair,

we know we're not talking about somebody

that wants a marble countertop or granite, right?

People's houses are crumbling.

Your man's out here living like I'm in a hotel,

talking about the housing crisis.

Thank you, Dr. Oz.

I'm out of here.

Look, I'm not gonna stand up here and give you

that same old song and dance like my opponents.

Do I live nice?

Heck yes, I do.

But I earned that.

Isn't that what you want, right?

Yeah.

Someone who grew up here?

- Yes. - Who made it?

Right.

Someone who can inspire change?

"What does he know about politics", they say.

Well, what do they know about the 313, I say.

In the great spirit of Mother Rosa Parks,

this city may be down, but it most certainly is not out.

And I'm ready to go 12 rounds for y'all.

But what I want to know is, are y'all ready to go

12 rounds for me?

Yes.

I said, are y'all ready to go 12 rounds for me?

Yes.

That's what I'm talking about.

Come October, let me give you what you need.

Vote Washington.

Washington, Washington, Washington.

Washington, Washington.

Hey, you carrying it means you don't need it.

And clean up your shit from here.

Idiot.

What the fuck are you doing?

What is wrong with you?

Give me a break.

The hoodie?

I hardly recognized him.

Hardly recognized you, for Christ's sake.

Since when do you use a chair?

Since my dick's too damn heavy.

That was fun. Thank you.

Look around, Jess.

This is why you're not in private school anymore.

Because Martha Stewart here needed a shit-colored backsplash

to go with his piss-stained walls.

Private school?

John worked his ass off on this kitchen.

And I only paid him 2 grand.

Say hello to your grandfather.

Hey.

Stare at that phone long enough,

your other eye's gonna droop, too.

- You're drenched. - Why are you sweating so heavy?

I ran a fucking marathon.

What's it to you?

Your mom ever take you to that house

we used to live in up in Arden Park?

The one with the pool?

Went by there today.

Place looks like shit.

Hedges are wild, concrete's all cracked.

Not like when we lived there, huh, Jenny?

You mean for the year we were there?

Three years,

until those insects from the bank stole it away.

What, have you got a body in there?

Let's talk upstairs.

So what's with the gun?

I was planning on shooting somebody.

I need you to watch him for a while.

Watch him?

I haven't seen either of you for a year and a half.

You called Carol a trout sniffer.

Oh, Jesus.

It was Christmas.

We were having fish.

You don't say that to my girlfriend,

especially not the day you meet her.

So this is my punishment?

I gotta babysit?

Guess who doesn't have a girlfriend?

Me.

Guess what doesn't drop panties?

Young grandpas.

Whatever. I took a job in Chicago.

I could send cash, come back on weekends, too.

Why can't Steve Jobs go with you?

I'm staying on a friend's couch.

Also, he's on probation.

He got in trouble in school.

For what?

Jobs?

You gotta be shitting me.

200 hours of community service.

Where?

Some scrap pit in Highland Park.

And he likes it.

He's got a bunch of friends.

I don't know.

I gotta buy shit for him, feed him.

It's not a good time.

He's not a fucking gerbil.

I just told you, he stays busy.

What? You don't think I have a life?

What do you think I do all day?

Oh, no. I'm sure you're very busy wheeling around

with your gun.

Oh, yeah?

Just the other day,

John saw some tweaker eating out of the garbage.

Guy looks up, he's got blood and guts

all over his mouth and a half-dead fucking rat

in his hands.

This city's not safe.

I don't ask you for anything.

Eh, it's not a good idea.

What part?

Getting to know your grandson or helping out your daughter?

Both.

I told him this was a bad idea.

Son of a bitch.

What's wrong?

Nothing. We're leaving.

-Hold up. -What?

Don't forget your body.

Justin, can you please help?

The suitcase isn't gonna carry itself.

It's fine, it's fine. I'll stay.

I don't think you get it.

Your grandfather doesn't want you here.

Jesus, the both of you.

Just stay.

Stay already.

You're not fucking around?

I wish I was.

Thank you.

Least I could do.

It's only for a little while until I get settled.

And he's sweet, you'll see.

Uh-huh.

Sure.

This one?

No, no.

Gracias.

Happy to help.

We've-- we've tried everything.

He's-- he's just not eating it.

Use the fork to carve little rivers in it,

so that the gravy has a place to go

and then put the vegetables on top of that.

Oh, okay.

Is Leon still in the kitchen?

Uh, I'm actually new at Rosedale,

so I don't know where Leon is.

Alright.

Well, if all else fails, just give him a fucking cookie.

He loves cookies.

Cookies?

I got it.

What's your name?

- I'm Betsy. - Thanks, Betsy.

I appreciate the call.

Don't-- don't worry about it.

We'll-- we'll keep trying with him.

Thanks for your help.

And tell Edna that the check's in the mail, like it always is.

What happened to all the tough white guys?

-Laimbeer. -Laim who?

Bill Laimbeer.

Nasty white dude.

We used to be tough, too, you know.

Maybe you should write a letter to the commissioner.

I'm sure he'd appreciate it.

What commissioner?

Of the league.

You're being a smartass, but I'm serious.

It's not the same.

All these guys hoisting it up from half court.

That's the league now.

What, pussies?

Three pointers.

Outside game.

What the fuck?

You never had a ketchup sandwich?

Keeps the appetite in check.

I used to live off those when I was trying to make weight.

Plus, it cuts down on the grocery bills.

Your mom says you've been scrapping at school.

Come on, you can kiss and tell.

What'd you do?

Ring some kid's bell?

What?

You break his nose?

They had to reset his jaw?

What?

Bringing you the new Pegasus juicer.

My juicer will knock your taste buds out.

Where's the remote?

The remote?

-Where is it? -Sorry.

Look in the cushions.

-Found it. -Give it to me.

Guy's a fucking disgrace.

That why you got him up on your wall?

The fuck you just say?

You two fought, right?

Who are you, Woodward and Bernstein?

I said you could stay here, not interrogate me.

Mom bought us one of those.

These juicer, they fucking suck.

They can't even juice a banana.

Juice a banana?

That's what it says in the commercial.

Un-fucking believable.

Yeah, mom and Carol said they wanted to lose

some weight, but we just wound up drinking

extra juice for a month,

and I'm pretty sure we all gained weight,

especially Carol.

Carol's fat now, huh?

I don't know about fat,

just kinda, kinda thick all over.

First it was skinny black dudes, now it's thick white women.

She's a tough one to please, your mom.

Is this a trap?

Guess you'll have to find out.

I see why you have this thing, it's fucking fun.

No wonder there's so many school shootings.

This game is hard as shit.

How do you even reload?

Get over here and show me.

-You're out of beer. -Forget the beer.

Show me.

Hey.

I said you're out of booze.

I heard you.

We'll make a run in the morning.

Fucking show me.

Bottom button, huh?

Fucking g--

Phone's dead.

What?

Sit up.

Put your hands up.

Why?

Because I got a game.

What's it called?

It's called, "Put your fucking hands up".

What the fuck is this?

Square up.

Now, why'd you come here?

I don't get it.

Don't be shy.

I know it's you who wanted to come here.

What do you want from me?

So that's it.

Well, you've come to the right place, Jobs.

Two dumpy broads up your ass, a father in jail.

I'd like getting hit, too.

Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah.

I've tried that.

It doesn't work.

Now.

I want you to hit your grandpa.

It'll make you feel better.

Go on.

That's why you came here, too, isn't it?

You want to blame me for everything?

I don't want to fucking hurt you.

Try me.

Come on.

This isn't a fucking school yard.

I said hit your grandpa.

Snap it.

Snap it. Like this.

Like a piston.

Now that's how you hit your grandpa.

Put your hands up again.

Now this time, close 'em.

Go on.

Do it.

Now hit me.

Jobs!

Son of a bitch!

- Hi, you've reached - Eton's executive--

Goddammit.

So, I'll say it again.

The poor have hope and injustice shuts its mouth.

Message seems pretty clear to me.

Sounds like God doesn't appreciate these iniquitous men.

These cowards, bullies picking on the poor.

Not one bit.

As we do every week, we'll open up our discussion

to tonight's guest, former Featherweight champion

and Detroit's mayoral candidate,

Mr. Darnell Washington.

Welcome to the show.

- Oh, it's good to be here, - Pastor.

So how do you interpret what Eliphaz is saying to Job?

Well, I believe God was reminding Job

that no affliction comes to us by chance.

What!

Sir, can you roll down the window

and kill the engine, please?

Where are you headed tonight?

Couldn't sleep.

Thought I'd take a Sunday drive.

Well, it's a Wednesday, sir.

Is that right?

Are you intoxicated?

I'm not.

Why'd you pull me over?

Well, one, your taillight's out, and two, your seatbelt.

May I see your license, please?

Lost my grandson.

- You lost him? - Yeah.

About 6 feet, half white, likes to beat on his grandpa.

You really don't recognize me?

I don't think so.

What's your name?

Officer Flores.

What is that, Polish?

Let's try this again.

License and registration, please.

Not a boxing fan, huh?

I've fought a few Latinos in my day.

Maybe you're related to one of 'em.

Rozyski. Wow.

Yep.

I've heard of you.

But uh, this is from 1998.

You got anything more recent?

I might be able to scrounge a few tapes from the '80s.

You like Mellencamp?

I could've walked home, you know.

So you're a pony car guy, huh?

What?

The Trans Am.

I was gifted that car by a Detroit legend.

The Silver Bullet himself.

Seger?

Bob?

There's nothing like Detroit muscle.

Uh, you know Trans Ams are made in Ohio?

Wherever it was made, I don't want any dings on it.

Or homeless fuckers sleeping in it.

Getting hand jobs, squirting their DNA all over the leather.

Which absorbs, by the way.

I think you'll be alright, just as long as you show up

with someone who has a valid ID when you pick it up.

You're awful chipper for a cop.

Well, being nasty's overrated.

Your grandson, does he live with you?

Apparently.

And the bruise?

His mother's an angry lesbian and his father's in jail.

I'm teaching him to fend for himself.

So he ran away?

It was more of a jog.

Has he done that before?

In the one day he's been living with me?

No.

What can I say?

The kid's confused.

I know a lot of confused kids

who don't run from their guardians.

Yeah, well, I'm very proud of you.

Does he have a girlfriend?

A job?

I'm thinking.

Anyone he's pissed off?

Something about a pit.

Huh?

His mother mentioned some place he goes for work.

Durban Pit?

I don't know, maybe.

I'll be right there.

No, I'll come with you.

No.

If he sees you, he might run.

Okay, Rozyski.

Five minutes.

Hey, can one of you guys grab some water from the trailer

when you're done?

Yeah.

Ah, it's a super heavy piece of wood.

Can I help you?

What is this, some kind of cult?

No, it's just-- it's a clean-up crew.

We clean up the city where it's needed.

-But uh, listen-- -Jobs.

Come on, let's go.

I'm taking you home.

Jess, you know this guy?

Yeah, that's my grandfather.

Oh.

I guess you'll just make up the hours then.

What are you doing?

-What? -Get your money.

Pay the kid his scratch.

That's not how this works.

Community service, my ass.

Somebody's getting paid off this shit.

I mean, we-- we got free sandwiches.

You want a sandwich?

-Soda? -So what?

You lure 'em in with free food, then you try and fuck 'em?

- What are you talking about? - It's fine.

Hey, I was only here a few hours. It's okay. Let's go.

I said pay my grandson before I tune you up.

Okay.

Can somebody explain to him how community service works,

because he's not getting--

How about I make you my personal fart catcher instead.

Alright. Hey, whoa.

You don't need to start pushing.

Just stop it. Alright?

You don't need to start pushing!

I said stop!

That's what you want?

You want more?

What are you doing?

Let's get the fuck out of here.

Justin, dude.

Justin!

What the fuck?

I thought I told you not to run away

without telling me where you're going.

No, you didn't.

Who are those lowlifes anyway?

They're not lowlifes.

They're people who are cleaning up the city you live in.

Today they are.

Tomorrow they'll be knocking over a white castle.

And why am I in a cop car?

This is Officer Flores.

She's very concerned about your welfare.

She'll be taking care of you from now on.

What?

You know, your grandfather was driving around

looking for you with an expired license.

Did you hear me asking for your help back there?

Volunteer work.

My father would've kicked the teeth out of my head

working for free like that.

You should be saving yourself, not this fuckin' town.

Vicodin, for my hips.

What the f--

Average human head weighs

between 10 and 12 pounds, but not yours.

Yours must weigh at least 14.

It's not gigantism, that's for sure.

But it does mean you have a strong neck.

That drop eye, how much can you see out of it?

I don't know, like 50%.

Pittsburgh Windmill.

Huh?

Get dressed.

What the fuck?

Who lives here?

This house was built by John Eton I.

A merchant marine who married a Portuguese woman from,

well, Portugal.

They spawned John Eton II,

who was born severely retarded and died young.

After that, they had John Eton III.

And that's who lives here now.

John may seem retarded, but he's not.

Eton's a royalty.

Royalty?

Boxing royalty.

His granddaddy's first gym burnt to the ground,

so he decided to build the second one closer to home.

I don't-- I don't get it, you planning on

making a comeback?

No.

We're here for you.

I've never trained anyone before.

Never wanted to.

Not until I saw you crank that chowderhead's neck

down at the site.

I wore these when I knocked out Washington.

See, all that wrestling and MMA bullshit may be fine and good,

sitting on each other's faces, but it won't help you

in a real fight.

Don't believe me?

Try sniffing some guy's crotch on the street

and see where it gets you.

It's written all over your face, Jobs.

Swimming around in your DNA.

You don't have to tell me what you're thinking,

'cause I already know.

Know what?

You want to learn.

Fight.

No, I don't.

It's natural to be scared.

I'm not scared, I just don't want to.

Alright, you little prick.

Then we'll just tell your mom how you choked out your boss.

I was helping you.

I don't think she'll see it that way.

Not after everything you've put her through.

Are you serious?

My house.

My rules.

Besides, it'll be good for you.

Teach you shit.

Fuck this.

I care about this city, too, you know.

It might not look like it, but I do.

And I'm tired of seeing it corrupted by liars and thieves.

If you want to be a good Samaritan,

make things better, then you're gonna need money

or respect.

And right now, you've got fuck all.

How's fighting gonna change that?

Already did.

The moment you slept that neckbone down at the site,

you copped yourself respect from him

and all the other chumps watching.

See, this could be the answer to your little conundrum.

You win a few fights, you can actually make a difference.

Shit, you can even buy a house for your mom while you're at it.

By the time I was 19, I had 75 grand

in Detroit National from fighting,

and nobody could tell me dick.

Not my parents, not anyone.

And pussy?

I was fucking drowning in it.

And not gutter slugs either, but top drawer.

In every shape and color.

A fucking kaleidoscope of top drawer pussy.

What if I'm no good?

Impossible.

What about community service, though?

It won't get in the way, I promise.

Sure, fine, whatever.

You're making your grandpa very happy, Jobs.

Bringing pride back to the Rozyski name.

My last name's Thompson.

Doesn't matter.

Now, first order of business.

You got your learner's permit?

This thing drives funny.

That's what luxury feels like.

When you turn pro, you'll be able to buy yourself

a whole fleet of these with the scratch you'll be making.

They don't make cars like this anymore.

You're preaching to the choir.

Factories in this town used to be bustling.

Cranked-out cars hand over fist.

Not this one.

Trans Ams were made in Ohio.

I know the stories.

I grew up here.

You grew up in war-torn Berlin.

I'm talking about Mecca.

Before it all went to shit.

I'd take a fight at The Garden and be on a plane

that night just to be back here to celebrate.

New York was a dry hump compared to Detroit.

The city took care of its own.

Not anymore.

I thought we were gonna start training.

What the fuck do you think we're doing?

Pull up to this idiot over here.

Speak of the devil.

We were just at your place.

Called you earlier, too.

Needed a ride.

Uh, sorry.

You know, between the rally and the prom, I, uh,

you know, I haven't had a break.

Shuttling people all-- you know, non-stop.

Looks like you got yourself a ride, though.

It's my grandson, Justin.

I know the guy. I know him.

I know who it is.

How's it going, Justin?

We're gonna be spending some time at your place

this week.

Could use your help.

Yeah. Yeah.

Sure thing, Bang.

Hey, uh, give me a jump here.

We're on a schedule.

Answer your fucking phone next time, will ya?

Come on. Let's go.

Drive.

Kind of hungry.

Yeah. You know what?

I'm a little peckish myself.

Hang a left at this light.

This looks perfect.

Best patty melt in town.

Grab a table.

Pigeon foot in an Edsel.

So that was you creeping around yesterday.

I don't know what you're talking about.

You look good.

What's with the head wrap?

Leftovers from my last round of chemo.

Jesus.

What is it with this city?

The whole damn place is crumbling.

Said by the dusty motherfucker who just hobbled into my bar.

Sorry.

For what?

You didn't give it to me.

Y'all men act like you the only motherfuckers

in this city that still got a fight in them.

You still singing?

Damn straight.

Every day but Sunday.

I'd like to see that.

I bet you would.

I'm serious.

So, what brings you out of hiding?

I know it ain't for no damn patty melt.

My grandson, Justin.

Kid wants to fight.

Say hi to Sharon, Jobs.

Hi.

You want a patty melt, hon?

Yes, please.

Kid's a little soft around the edges,

but he's got some real heavy hands.

Well, if he's any relation to you, I'm sure he does.

What?

Nothing.

Let me just put this order in for the boy.

I'm serious.

I want to hear you sing.

Well, if you keep creeping around, you just might.

What's the verdict?

Better than your ketchup sandwich?

Is it?

Rozyski, right?

Yeah.

I thought you were dead or had dementia or something.

Hey, was it you

or your twin brother that fought Caswell in '87?

Me.

Yeah, that's the first time I ever saw a guy get

knocked out in the ring.

Just so happens he was my cousin.

Oh, yeah?

How is Charlie these days?

Been dead a while.

We found him out of meringue with two bullets in his head.

Police called it a suicide.

I'm sorry to hear that.

He was a good fighter.

He's a gatekeeper and you know it.

Come on.

Now you see why I don't leave the house.

You have a brother?

Hasn't been around for a while.

What's that mean?

It means what I fucking said.

What's a gatekeeper?

Glorified punching bag.

The guy you beat to establish yourself as a contender.

Where to now?

Get over here.

Tell me when you lose my finger.

Now.

Every fighter has a weakness.

That's yours.

Let's get the fuck out of here.

Unlock it.

That's it.

Jab out.

Tuck it.

Tuck it.

I want to see you looking through that brow

like a cyclops.

Watch your elbows.

Pinch 'em in.

They're flaring.

It's wasted energy.

First your elbows go, then your shoulders get tired.

The next thing you know, you're on the canvas looking up.

Always train like you fight, Jobs.

Where do you think you're going?

I'm gonna be late for work.

Dylan's picking me up.

You owe me one more good round.

Can you believe this kid?

Cleans up houses for free and calls it work.

Houses that were burnt down by the people who lived in 'em.

Back in the day, we had a name for that.

Called it, "Jewish Lightning".

Right, Johnny?

Talent alone ain't gonna buy your mom a house, Jobs.

If you're not careful, you'll end up

burning down your own one day.

There's that nasty boy.

You think you're getting under my skin, but really,

I just feel bad for you.

Ooh, looks like the daffodil has some venom.

Give John one more good round,

then you can get back to your city planning.

Where are you going?

I'm gonna go chop a log.

Be right back.

One more good rounds.

Where's Justin?

I haven't seen you since our little dust-up.

Thought I'd say hello.

How's the neck?

It's good.

Better.

You know, we talked it out.

I told him I probably would have done the same thing.

Good.

'Cause for whatever weird reason,

he looks up to you.

Well, he's a good kid.

Yeah, he is.

But uh, the more you push him, the more likely he is to run.

His father was the same way.

Couldn't take his mom riding him anymore, so he ended up

knocking over a package store just to get a break.

Thought his dad was a junkie.

Better than telling him his father took

a cinderblock vacation by choice, no?

The point is, he's not gonna be hauling junk forever.

So if he misses a few asbestos sessions with you,

let's not sweat it.

All that matters is he's found purpose in something he loves.

Glad we had this little talk.

He'll be down in a minute.

Fucking asshole.

So, how's it going there?

It's going great.

John's over.

We're watching TV.

How's the job?

Uh, it's getting better.

I may have a lead on a place,

but I might not be able to get back as soon as I hoped.

Don't worry about it.

Really?

Yeah, it's fine.

So, um, how's Jess?

Uh, he says you've been taking him to John's to work out.

He told you about that?

What else did he say?

Nothing, just that you're getting along.

Like Ebony and Ivory.

Are you sure?

Yeah, I'm telling you, he's doing great.

Community service, a little exercise, the whole nine yards.

That's really nice.

Hey, hey, hey.

What are you doing? Don't do that.

I'm fine.

I'm just-- I'm happy that you're spending time together.

Yeah, me too.

Okay, well, um, I should get back.

Uh, give my love to Jess.

Will do.

And hey, Jen.

What?

I'm proud of you.

Fuck, damn it.

Better go down and stomp out the fire under that man.

This guy kind of reminds me of you.

Hip's feeling better, huh?

What's that supposed to mean?

You're not using the chair anymore.

I only need it for flare-ups, you know that.

Oh, yeah, the flare-ups, that's-- that's-- that's right.

Kid's doing good, huh?

Real good, real good.

He's got pop you can't teach.

Even with the pads, my ribs are killing me.

Yeah, his footwork's sloppy.

Southpaw would eat him alive.

He's like a young Ken Norton, huh?

I'm not joking.

If he's gonna fight, we gotta keep him honest.

Well, what has he got like, two and a half weeks

under his belt?

Pops threw me in the ring after a week.

Same with my brother.

Kid's gotta get his dick wet sooner or later.

Besides, I want to get him up and running

before his mom comes back and has a conniption fit.

What's the best gym these days?

Well, you got uh, Butzel's.

You got Drexel's.

You got Sal's and Pontiac.

I asked for the best, not the fuckin' Yellow Pages.

Well, the best is Drexel's, but.

But what?

It's-- it's Washington's place.

Eddie Perkins runs it.

Railroad Eton back on the trail.

I haven't heard that in a while.

It's a terrible nickname for a fighter.

You wanna know where that name comes from?

That's my grandmother literally laying track

during the war while the men were off fightin'.

It's sentimental.

You can't go in the ring with a moniker like that.

Might as well be fightin' with a pacifier in your mouth.

I always liked it.

Well, your record didn't.

That's right.

You were always a fighter.

That's right.

You know, I asked around.

It sounds like your grandpa was hot shit back in the day.

That's what he says.

He said you're pretty good, too.

I'm alright.

-You like it? -Yeah.

Everything except the road work.

I hate running, but--

Yeah, I like it, though.

Like, once you learn all the combinations and everything,

it's just like any other game.

Bank says I can make some real money.

Maybe buy my mom a house.

What?

You don't think I can?

I didn't say that.

I just think maybe, you know,

might be good to get a fight under your belt

before you start talking about buying houses.

That's just me.

You know, I could have taken you both that day, right?

Because you're what? 5'6".

He's 4'3".

I'm just saying.

No, I got hands.

You sure about this?

Yeah, I'm fucking sure.

Sure about this.

What the hell took him so long?

Sorry, I kept running into people.

Jesus, how'd it go?

Eddie says he knows just the guy.

Welterweight?

Yeah, Welterweight.

And you saw him?

How'd he look?

He pointed him out, but I didn't get a good look.

Dodgy motherfuckers.

I knew they'd take the fight.

Nothing's changed.

Green's still green.

When do they want it to happen?

Two weeks from Sunday.

It's an exhibition card.

And he'll be there?

Who, the kid?

Washington.

Oh, yeah.

It's his charity.

Okay, Mr. Charity.

Mayor, my ass.

Thank you.

Prick's still hard as rock.

Mm-hmm. I'm sure it is.

I'm serious.

What's on your mind?

The only thing on my mind

other than that kid boxing, is you.

Mm. You need to stop.

You don't want me thinking about you?

Man comes out of the woodwork acting like you is,

makes the woman feel like there's a cause for concern.

That's the motor city in you talking.

Always waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I mean, I am as positive as they come.

Even after they took my girls right here.

Still kept my shit together.

I can't be happy, too.

I'm all for it, as long as that's what it is.

Look at you, pushing all my buttons.

What can I say?

They ain't hard to find.

You should cut another album.

You do remember the disaster that was my first album.

I never should've been in the studio.

I was keyed out of my mind.

Mull it over.

That's all I'm saying.

Let's get some sleep.

Imagine waking up on Christmas morning being told

there will be no presents under the tree.

Because Santa's in the slammer for tax evasion.

That's how-- that's how betrayed the fans were.

It's like Jake LaMotta and the mob.

It's like uh, resto and the pads.

This was their haggler.

Your grandfather wanted to,

he wanted that Washington fight more than anything.

He would have given away half

his purse if he'd had to, he would have fought for free.

So it wasn't his fault.

When people look at you

with that flop eye, they see someone who's pliable,

easy, but when he sees you, he sees King Mongkut,

you know the fourth monarch of Siam.

The nobleman wanted a puppet ruler,

someone they could push around.

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