Original subtitles

That son of yours is making you

look like a sad, obsolete clown.

You're sure

your father is not a problem?

We are the Harrigans! You've been warned.

Finch.

Tell me you're on top of this,

-yeah? -Leave it to me.

Gakbu is not stupid, he's super smart.

He came to you because, I think, someone told him to.

Are you suggesting Kat McAllister

is running Gakbu?

This whole show is shot to shit.

Fergus is getting scared.

We're your new business partners.

We only want ten percent.

I want Gina Da Souza

in the fucking rearview mirror.

Can you check your WhatsApp, please?

-We need to discuss this. -It's too late, Harry.

What are we gonna do about the Ruzgars?

The Turkish aren't a problem, Kev.

So you want me to put

your ambitious ass on the throne?

It's time for change.

I'll find you

an upcoming criminal.

This man will run London,

and as such, you will own him.

Hello, Frankie.

Start talking, copper.

♪ "Superstylin'" by Groove Armada playing ♪

♪ Enter in the dance, plug it in and we begin ♪

♪ Crowd up in the center, they watch be dibidim ♪

♪ Watch the way we drop it in a mix timing ♪

♪ Rise and amplifying ♪

♪ When we come in with the swing ♪

♪ Just following the back and naturally harmonizing ♪

♪ Climb into position with synchronized things ♪

♪ Live from out the ghetto, we maximizing ♪

♪ Sound of the Groove Armada we superstylin' ♪

♪ We superstylin' ♪

♪ Sometime, can you feel the pressure does unwind? ♪

♪ Sometime ♪

♪ Sometime ♪

♪ Through the day and through the night ♪

♪ Sometime ♪

♪ Sometime ♪

♪ You can make our pressure does unwind ♪

♪ Sometime ♪

♪ Sometime ♪

♪ Sometime... ♪

♪ "Cola" by Camelphat & Elderbrook ♪

Good, find that rhythm.

We're gonna come out that saddle

in three, two, one.

Let's lift it up. Keep it here.

One, two. Relax the upper body.

Hold tight.

Keep it here. One, two.

Good, push this up, let's go.

♪ She sips the Coca-Cola ♪

♪ She can't tell the difference yet ♪

I do think that, and I think

it's much more prevalent if you have a family,

because...

"I've got a dog." Piss off. Um...

They could never understand that.

If there is anything on the men's side,

it's normally, "What are we doing for..."

Fuck.

-Un-fucking believable. -We think the women are still...

Ma'am, I'm so sorry, it's completely my fault.

Fuck.

It's an old car, old brakes.

-Got your driving license? -Yeah, of course.

I'm so sorry about this.

Phone.

Listen, if you have whiplash or anything...

you need to see a doctor... just let me know, all right?

You got my number, I've got yours.

I can only apologize.

Goodbye.

Fucking dick.

♪ "Starburster" by Fontaines D.C. ♪

♪ It may feel bad ♪

♪ It may feel bad ♪

♪ I wanna see you alone, I wanna sharp the stone ♪

♪ I wanna bounce the bone, I wanna mess with it ♪

♪ I wanna lay the Deville, the whole crew on the sill ♪

♪ I want the preacher and pill, I wanna bless with it ♪

♪ I wanna head to a mass and get cast in it ♪

♪ That shit's funnier than any A-class, innit? ♪

♪ I wanna talk with the clown who has apologies down ♪

♪ Pay him 300 pounds to take a class in it ♪

♪ I wanna bite the phone, I wanna bleed the tone ♪

♪ I wanna see you alone, alone, alone, lone ♪

♪ I wanna strait the shark and find me somewhere to park ♪

♪ Like the light when it's dark, it's dark, it's dark, dark ♪

♪ A few stars about make it feel like peace ♪

♪ In a way, a complimentary round ♪

♪ Constellation got ♪

♪ A twist in it for a GPO ♪

♪ And all the hits in it ♪

♪ I'm gonna hit your business ♪

♪ If it's momentary blissness ♪

♪ I'm gonna hit your business ♪

♪ If it's momentary blissness ♪

♪ I'm gonna hit your business ♪

♪ If it's momentary blissness ♪

Just these two, please.

One for you and one for the wife, sir?

Yep.

Big fan.

Okay, Mr. Policeman. Show me what you can do.

We're live from North London,

which has become the scene of a deadly shooting.

Hi, it's Jan. I can't think of anything

funny to say and we're all busy people, so leave a message.

Jan, it's, uh, it's me again.

Um, listen, I need to talk to you.

It's urgent. Can you call me back?

But detectives are investigating

whether this may be gang-related,

given the scale and precision of the attack.

Is it case closed, then, boss?

Residents have been told to stay indoors

while the investigation intensifies.

Ah.

Well, good news is your memory testing is within normal limits.

There's no evidence of dementia.

The hippocampus and temporal lobes

are structurally preserved.

However, the MRI did show

there's focal atrophy in the orbitofrontal cortex

and the anterior cingulate gyrus.

Uh, these regions regulate various behavioral functions

so instinct control, uh, aggression,

risk evaluation.

It's the-the circuitry that turns instinct

into sober, informed,

considered strategy.

Uh, I'm afraid that the systems that govern control

and judgement

are weakening.

Ah.

Well, um... what do you mean?

I mean that whilst you may still recall

every detail of a meeting,

you'll be quicker to react,

slower to weigh up consequences,

more prone to irritation where once there was restraint.

Day to day, it may go unnoticed,

but under stress,

provocation...

Do you understand me, Mr. Harrigan?

Oh, yes, I do understand, Doctor.

What I don't understand

is why we're still talking about this.

Because this...

never happened.

Uh, Mr. Harrigan, I can assure...

Liam Patrick Francis,

Patrick Doyle, Bobby Cranes,

Seamus Flannery and his brother, mm.

Brendan O'Driscoll and all his mob.

The Hanrahans, the Muldoons.

Patrick Flattery

and his wife, Patricia, hmm?

The McSorleys, here

and in Boston.

And Richie Stevenson.

I've seen off butchers, bakers,

candlestick makers,

but you, fella?

You would be my first doctor.

Destroy the evidence.

These tests never happened.

I'm right as rain.

Right as fucking rain!

Good day.

What are you doing?

Doing me job, mate.

Maeve.

Conrad.

Where are you, babe?

London.

Oh, yeah? Doing what?

Business.

Hold your horses there.

Conrad Harrigan,

how long have I known you for?

And don't you think I know when you're lying to me?

-Maeve. -Don't "Maeve" me, you cunt.

I can hear it in the pitch of your stupid voice.

Who you fucking this time, you lousy old sack of shite?

Maeve, I am not fucking anyone.

Well, that's not strictly true.

I'm about to be fucking a traffic warden.

Conrad, I'm joking with you.

I believe you. Thousands wouldn't, but I do.

Uh-huh?

And just to show you how sorry I am, you know what,

I've been thinking about what you said.

Oh, yeah?

And what did I say?

You know, about Seraphina.

We were all under a lot of pressure

that night. Why don't you give her a call,

ask her out to dinner so we can apologize

to her about what happened?

What are you up to, woman?

I'm burying the hatchet just like you wanted me to, babe.

Lying yoke.

Before you stick that ticket on my car,

I want you to see what's sitting on my bollocks.

I have people who know how to find you.

9924, hmm?

I don't know what ticket you talking about, sir.

Oh, I couldn't possibly, sir.

Ah, no. I insist.

Go on. You take it now.

Get a nice dinner with your wife.

You have a good day, sir. Take care.

Target mobile. Heading westbound.

Team in trail, one car back.

Holding distance.

Dean McCarthy retracts his statement,

claiming he was lent on by Gakbu Ruzgar.

He came to my house, he leaned on me,

told me to say it was the Harrigans.

The very next day, Gakbu's gunned down

outside his residence.

It's too much of a coincidence.

There is a mole inside Tempest.

We can use this to our advantage.

We're gonna feed the mole.

The mole leaks to Conrad,

Conrad thinks he's in the clear

and we watch and we wait.

How do you know it's not one of us?

Hello?

Hey, it's Jamie. I got some bad news.

Turns out the insurance company's gonna take months

for this to play out.

Just forms, paperwork.

How about we cut to the chase

and I'll just give you five grand?

We can meet up, I give you

a white envelope, cash, no tax.

-Six grand. -All right, deal.

How about tomorrow night?

I know a nice French restaurant. 9:00 p.m.?

How about 9:00 a.m., Primo Café, Chalk Farm Road?

All right, that works, too. I'll see you then.

Harry, I have nothing to say to you.

Jan, I, um...

I found Gina.

You hid in a fucking bush?

All day.

I mean,

what the fuck was I supposed to do?

If Conrad knew, I would lose my fucking balls.

Chill, chill. Let me... let me share with you

the secret of working for the Harrigans.

The secret, dear Fergus,

is do not get caught

between the him and the her.

It's an art.

You got to learn to see it coming,

anticipate it like a Tyson Fury right hook.

Do not, I repeat, do not

get sucked up into the motherfucking whirlpool.

Capeesh?

I don't know.

I'm not sure if...

You're not sure if what?

Back in the room.

Oh, fuck, she's coming. She's...

-Morning, Maeve. -Morning, Mrs...

-Morning, Maeve. -Paul. Come with me.

Yes, Maeve.

Fuck.

Paul.

These dogs. How do they look to you?

Heya, boy. They look grand,

-yeah, Maeve. -Grand?

-Mm. -Are you serious, man?

The fella on the left is practically blind

and the one on the right farts all night

like Conrad on the stout.

It's in stereo-fucking-phonic.

Oh, I remember when they were young

and sprightly and full of life.

Now look at them, limping about,

whimpering all night.

I've tried to talk to Conrad about it, but he won't listen.

But you know, he-he's too attached.

I think it's time we did the decent thing.

Paul, would you do us all a favor

and call the vet?

Now?

No, Paul. Next Pancake Tuesday.

Yes. Right now.

Okay, Maeve...

Now, look, all the time

you're dithering, these poor dogs are suffering.

It breaks my heart.

Okay, yes, but I was thinking,

maybe, Maeve, we should,

you know, possibly wait until Conrad gets back?

After all, they are a man's best friend.

They are Conrad's best friends.

Oh, Mother of God.

Do I have to do everything myself?

Nope. I'll do it.

Good.

I knew you'd understand.

Um...

Jan, I've got to tell you something.

Gina. Uh, she's in a flat in Hackney.

Uh...

she's with Eddie Harrigan.

And she's been busy, too.

-Doing what? -Shakedowns.

Gina?

Shaking down who?

YouTubers.

They go online, they clock some geek

with a million followers and whatnot,

find out where he's filming.

Then Gina rocks up, all smiles and that.

She's got a couple of big Jamaicans with her.

The geek, you know, he pays,

so his camera doesn't get smashed

and his kit doesn't walk and...

Jamaicans on the payroll now.

They guard the flat, watch his motor.

Little gang.

Well, it makes sense.

What does?

You spent all her life fixing for that family.

Every secret, every dirty debt,

and you think she wasn't watching?

She learned more from you than she ever did in school.

I still think that we can pull her back.

Back to what, Harry?

Happy fucking families?

She's not better off with Eddie Harrigan.

She's better off

with anyone other than you.

I do... I get it.

A bad boy walks into the room and...

suddenly, the air changes.

Everyone else looks somehow less. But him...

he burns.

That thrill... it's like

falling and being caught.

You mistake it for strength.

For safety.

If you love our daughter...

leave her alone.

Because you, my dear boy...

are not the remedy.

You're the poison.

Good afternoon, sir.

Do you have an appointment?

Actually, I'm here to meet someone.

Frankie.

Show us your hands.

You a biter?

Dear, dear.

Horrible habit.

Do you know how many germs there are

under your fingernails?

Subungual space can contain

ten million organisms per square centimeter.

Warm, damp,

fed on keratin.

You're chewing through the lot of 'em.

Might as well brush your teeth with a toilet brush.

Show us your feet.

Not bad. I was expecting much worse.

Though you do have a touch of the old onychomycosis.

That's "fungus" to the layman.

Harrigans are weaker than they've been

in two decades.

They're a wallet lying in the street.

You'd just have to walk over and pick it up.

They got the lot. H, cocaine,

opioids, prostitution.

Not to mention the scaffolding.

Skips, security outfits, bookmakers...

Here, Svitlana, I'll finish Colin off.

You was Richie Stevenson's mate.

I heard you was in

a similar scheme with him.

I went to Richie's funeral.

I couldn't help but notice how completely fucking dead he was.

There's ten figures at stake here, Frankie.

What if I was to say, "Thank you, Colin,

but I'd rather not end up like our friend old Richie there."

What would you say then?

Well, I'd say you were making a mistake.

You sound slightly threatening, Colin.

Not a bit of it.

"Slightly threatening"

would be to say I know your firm inside out,

which means I've got enough information

to put you away for the rest of your life.

Your wife. It's Wendy, isn't it?

So, this Harry.

How would a man like me

go about

fucking a man like him...

up?

Have you ever heard of François Ravaillac?

François Ravaillac killed Henry IV of France

on May the 14th, 1610.

Stabbed him to death.

At his public execution,

he had his flesh torn with pincers

before they scalded him with boiling oil...

molten lead and sulfur.

They then bound him to four horses

and sent the beasts in different directions.

North, south,

east and west.

Very, very slowly.

One hoof at a time.

Clip, clop. Clip, clop.

Bones stretching.

Sinews, tendons.

Went on for hours.

Finally, the king's surgeon

steps in

and makes four

small incisions, and...

pop.

Body yields, comes apart.

Harry's got four horses.

I'm the surgeon.

Just got to know where to cut.

Eighteen-carat white gold.

It's claw-set, so the light runs clean.

Makes a statement without shouting.

It's beautiful.

I'll be a moment.

You don't ring me at work unless someone's dead.

Not today.

Not yet, anyway.

Listen, Maeve wants to have a patch-up

powwow. Hmm?

Scott's. Tomorrow night.

Says it's time to bury the hatchet.

That hatchet's been buried more times than a body

-in Epping Forest. -Look, listen to me, now.

She told me straight-up.

No tricks, no traps, just talk.

Maeve doesn't do "just talk."

Listen, now, Seraphina,

you and me, we have to stick together, all right?

We'll go in there, sit down, order some beluga,

Plateau de fruits de mer for two.

Maeve can eat her fucking fish and chips.

What if I say no?

Then you'll disappoint me.

Please, now, girl.

Help your old dad out.

Cheese. We got two prime

sliced cheeseburgers. Let's get into it.

We got some fries and we got some milkshakes.

-It's not crusty... -Mum.

How'd you find me?

Does it matter?

Hi. What can I get for you, luv?

-Uh, just a tea, thanks. -Tea. Yep.

-Look, I'm not here to... -Good.

Whatever the end of that sentence is, good luck.

You look different.

I grew up.

-You look tired. -Thanks.

-I didn't mean it like... -I'm working, Mum.

I make more than my whole year combined.

Those dead girls from school can suck my balls.

Doesn't make you sound very grown-up.

Well, I am grown-up.

Said no grown-up ever.

Is he good to you?

-I can handle Eddie. -That's not what I asked.

I said I can handle him.

Do you want top-up, Genie?

No, thanks, babe. I'm just leaving.

Okay.

"Genie."

Mm-hmm.

Like Aladdin.

Because I make everyone's wishes come true.

You stabbed Dad.

It was an accident.

Was it?

Okay.

You can ask me three questions, and I'll answer honest.

Three wishes.

-Are you happy? -Ecstatic.

Most days, I feel like a god. Next.

Are you still painting?

All the time. Got a solo show at the Tate next month.

You should come. Final one.

Your dad and I...

we're getting a divorce.

That's not a question, is it?

-Gina... -No.

We never meant to cause you any harm.

That's not a question.

I'm sorry.

One more.

Do you need anything?

Cash.

Fifties, no coins. I'm not a busker.

A Bugatti Veyron, midnight blue.

A Beretta 80X Cheetah... not to use,

just to flash when I open my bag.

A jet card. My own shoe line.

Half a club in Miami Beach.

Uh, clout. Options.

World peace.

And to never come home and worry I'm gonna find Dad dead

in a pool of blood on the doorstep.

Or you dead in the kitchen.

Or both of you in bed, dead.

To never have those dreams again.

To never be lying there in my fucking Sonic pajamas.

Hello, Jan.

You look well. You had your hair done?

Take care, my angel.

Not stopping for a drink?

No, thanks.

Frosty.

Careful, Eddie.

What's got her nickers in a twist?

Not a clue.

Well,

both these creatures are 100% fighting fit,

Mrs. Harrigan.

Bright eyes, glossy coats,

full bellies, crackling fire.

I mean, if I were a dog, I-I... I'd envy them.

Do you mean to say, Dr. Hart,

I've dragged you all the way out here for nothing?

You must think I'm an absolute tonk.

Oh, no, no, think nothing of it.

Better safe than sorry, as they say.

But, um, if there's a...

if there's a fitter pair of hounds in Oxfordshire,

well, I'd-I'd eat my hat.

Well, I think it's best

that Conrad doesn't hear anything about this.

Oh, I-I, I shan't say a word. No.

Mm. Thank you.

Uh... Oh, uh, no, there's...

there's-there's no need.

Oh, no, no. No, it's not for you.

It's for the donkey sanctuary.

It's called a donkey wodge.

Okay, well, I-I...

In-in that case, yeah. Yeah.

Good. Well, come on. Take the weight off.

-Slainte. -Uh, oh, cheers.

You know, it's strange, isn't it?

I mean, you carrying around the power

of life and death in that little bag over there.

One single injection, and the suffering is over.

Just like that.

Well, I mean, I-I suppose, if you, uh,

if you put it like that.

Do you know, I read...

I think it was an Agatha Christie or something,

uh, a fella put, uh, put one of those injections

-in-in a stew or something. -Well, I mean,

if you'll excuse the pun,

that's rather hard to swallow.

Yeah. You see,

you see, sodium pentobarbital

is bitter as wormwood.

Well, you'd spot it instantly.

Huh. Silly old Agatha. She got that wrong, didn't she?

What a load of rot.

So, um, what would work, then?

You know, in a stew or a glass or something?

Anything in there?

Um, well, I carry, uh, acepromazine for sedation,

uh, meloxicam for, uh, for pain

and, uh, xylazine for livestock.

Well, none of it's neat or clean.

It, uh, just makes animals, uh, sleepy or sick.

Mm.

Now, if I were going to, uh,

-to knock someone off... -Mm-hmm?

Yes. I'd, um, I'd use

good old antifreeze.

-Mm-hmm. -Oh?

-Yeah, it's, um, it's sweet. -Sweet...

Perfect in a pudding.

And, uh, it doesn't take much to-to... to do the job.

"The venom clamors of a jealous woman,

poisons more deadly than a mad dog's tooth."

And you're a poet.

That's William Shakespeare, yeah.

Hmm.

Now, he knew his hemlock from his henbane.

Yes, well, thank you so much for coming, Doctor.

Uh, Paul. Would you see the good doctor out?

Oh, thank you, baby Jesus.

This way, Doctor.

Conrad called.

What did Daddy what?

-Dinner. -When?

-Tomorrow night. -Just you and him?

-And Maeve. -I thought Maeve hated you.

Maeve hates everyone.

So, where's this dinner?

Somewhere in Mayfair.

Where in Mayfair, Sera?

Scott's. Tomorrow night.

All right. Don't work too late.

Mike and Sarah's 21st century

Derbyshire longhouse is two months behind schedule.

Thanks to the complex steel frame,

-it is still being made... -Want me to pause it?

No, go on.

Fairly sure we've already seen this one anyway.

Frankie.

So, who are these horses?

Well, let's see.

Number one, Conrad. Number two, Kevin.

Three is his family, Gina and Jan.

Lots of pull there.

Horrible, horrible pull.

Four...

Well, see, f-four's interesting.

It's a three-way toss-up.

Is it Eddie?

Could be. Seraphina, possibly.

Harry. Long time, no see.

Yeah, it's been a while, innit?

If I was a betting man,

my money's on a different horse.

Someone you really wouldn't expect.

Hello, Bella.

If you're looking for Kev, he's at the yard.

Pacing about, being strong and free of his tyrant father.

Actually, it was you I came to see.

I see.

Well, the answer's yes.

Let me pack and get my passport.

Um...

I-I found Gina,

and she's, um, she's with Eddie.

Drink?

They're in a flat in Hackney,

rolling YouTubers for protection.

They've got a couple of Rastas for security.

YouTubers? How novel.

Seriously. That's brilliant.

Oh, one thing I know, there's no way

my Eddie would've come up with an idea that good.

So, what's the plan?

Drag 'em home?

Slap their wrists, confiscate their phones?

They're kids, Bella.

Our kids.

Is this Parenting 101? From you?

Should I take notes?

Is this why you've come over?

I need you to talk to Kevin.

Is this about getting the band back together?

Kevin's waited his entire life to grow a pair,

and you want him to give them back to Conrad?

Kat McAllister's not going to wait.

Yeah, but if I go to Kevin and tell him

to get back with Conrad, all he'll hear is,

"Hey, remember me?

Remember when I fucked your dad?"

Just like if I tell him about Eddie.

"Hey, remember me? I fucked your dad,

had his baby, and then you raised him."

Not that I blame him, but when it comes to me,

Kevin's not wonderful at not jumping to conclusions.

Speaking of which, what would he make of this?

Make of what?

This.

If he walked in here right now.

Only kidding.

Or am I?

You all right?

Me?

Mm-hmm.

In the pink.

You know, Harry, this whole

fucking Oasis reunion plan of yours...

are you sure it's about Kat?

It couldn't be just a teeny bit to do

with your deprived-child emotional search

for a cave to hide in?

A parental sanctuary?

And before you ask, I didn't just pull that out my ass.

I paid 400 quid an hour to find that one out.

You see, 'cause you and me... we're the same.

So, is-is that, is that what it is?

So poor little lost "Hawwy"

can find a safe place to sleep at night, cozy and warm?

Hmm?

Speaking of which, how's, um...

how's Jan?

She wants a divorce.

Oh, dear.

You want a hug?

How about a blow job?

All right.

Night, Harry.

Night, lads.

It's all there. Seven grand.

I said six.

But I inconvenienced you.

We agreed six.

I won't take it back. Just...

give it to charity.

In return, can I get one Americano's worth of your time?

I'm in a rush.

What's your story?

Oh.

You want me to do all the work.

Let me take you to lunch.

I said I'm in a rush.

I'm patient.

I'll text you.

Eddie. It's Maeve.

Have you gotten rid of the little whore yet?

Just a sec.

Listen, Maeve. We need to talk about this.

See, Gina and I are a team,

professionally speaking.

She's bloody good.

She handles all the shakedowns. She's a natural.

Maeve?

Maeve, please.

Oh, God, Eddie.

I don't know. Sometimes, I think I should just...

you know, get in the car

and drive somewhere quiet and just

open a fucking vein.

Ah.

-Antifreeze, there you are. -What?

You've got 24 hours.

Sera, good morning.

-I'm running late. -Hey, no biggie.

Just a quick one. This, uh,

this dinner tonight, with Dad and Maeve?

Yeah, what about it?

Don't show up.

-What? -You heard me. Don't show up.

Don't cancel, don't call anyone.

Just don't be there at Scott's at 8:00 p.m.

-What's going on? -Just don't

show up to the restaurant.

She's late.

Seraphina's never late.

Course she's not late.

Seraphina, oh, never late.

She's just rude.

You know, I been thinking, Fergus.

This life... this...

I mean, this isn't for you, you know?

It's not for everyone.

Well, I know one thing.

I'm not going back to the Isle.

I like it here. It's nice.

The posh life.

Cottages, pubs, labra-fucking-doodles.

Yeah, she can purr, all right.

But she can also bite.

And if anything happens to you... Lord forbid...

your mum will scramble me in her fucking eggs.

-Don't worry about my ma. -Huh.

I'm a motherfucking gangster.

Okay.

Cool.

-My round. Same again? -Yeah.

Hi. It's Jan.

I can't think of anything funny to say

and we're all busy people, so leave a message.

Jan, it's me.

I've been thinking, and I-I think...

I completely agree with you.

What if we did just go away

and move somewhere completely different?

Somewhere hot?

I think, for the first year, maybe,

it'd be amazing.

We give it some time, we'd just be back to us, won't we?

-Kev. -Bella.

-You all right? -Yeah.

Life's wonderful. Just wonderful, Kev.

There's a difference between late, rude and tardy.

Tardy is just fashionably late.

Tardy? As in re-tardy?

Excuse me, mate.

I'm looking for the A412.

Oh, Jesus, woman.

You always have to have the last word, don't you?

♪ "Smack My Bitch Up" by The Prodigy playing ♪

Bella?

Bella?

You know, you can just use Google Maps.

Bella, I'm coming. Bella!

-Mr. Harrigan? A telephone call -Yes?

For you at the front desk.

What the fuck?

♪ Change my pitch up... ♪

I mean, who the fuck knows we're here?

♪ Like this ♪

♪ Change my pitch up ♪

♪ Smack my bitch up ♪

Don't move! You don't fucking move!

Stay there! Fucking get the bag on her!

Thank you very much.

Yes?

Hello?

You've no idea

who you're fucking with.

Who's there?

Bang.

♪ Smack my bitch up ♪

♪ Like this ♪

♪ Like this ♪