American Gangster Page #2

in front of everybody. Are you nuts?

Get it back in the bags, seal'em up,

and down it to the property room.

F***ing boy-scouts.

So nice to see you here this evening.

What?

What?

Detective Trupo.

Sign here.

You guys ready

to make a lot of f***in money?

- Always.

- Hell yeah.

Here you go!

All right. Look at this.

- F***ing dealers.

- Here's three more boats.

Hey, don't lose any of that sh*t.

- I know.

- Be careful.

Just enough for the reagent test.

A little less.

This is the French Connection dope.

Kilos of the same dope Eddie Egan

and Sonny Grasso took from us!

The cops seize it, arrest everyone,

and they start taking it out

of the evidence room,

whacking it down to nothing

and selling it back to us.

They basically

control the market with it.

Mr. Rossi.

A surprise.

They've been doin this for years.

They live off it.

- Our dope.

- Many thanks.

What the f*** is happening

to the world, Frank?

F***in crooks.

Sad about Bumpy.

Things are never gonna be the same

in Harlem.

You walk down the street.

Nobody bothers you

cause Bumpy was making sure of it.

Here, Frankie.

How is it there now?

It's chaos.

Every gorilla for himself.

Who can live like that?

There has to be order.

That would've never happened

with Italians.

More important than

any one man's life...

is order.

Frank.

Come on in.

Sit down.

- How y'all doin?

- Good.

- So, you seen Nate over there?

- Yeah, all the time.

Nate is everywhere.

- He's good.

- He's still over there.

Got himself a club now.

Where, Saigon?

Bangkok.

I don't think he's ever comin home.

Come on.

On the house

for our boys in uniform.

Thank you, sugar,

that's very kind.

Thank Frank.

Thanks, Frank.

Just relax.

You gonna have to boot this,

shoot a couple times.

Cops keep cutting it.

Selling the sh*t.

I won't say anything

cause the price is right.

But that sh*t in Nam

is way...

way...

heavy...

Didn't you see the jar, Frank?

I think you walked right past it.

The money jar.

What I gotta do?

Put a f***in sign on it?

What are you thinking?

You know,

Bumpy don't own 116th no more.

He don't own no real estate

in Harlem right now. I'm the landlord,

and the lease is 20 %.

Well, don't sell dope then, Frank.

Get a real job.

Need a f***in job, Frank?

Is that what you need?

You come work for me.

You can drive me around.

You open my doors.

Yes sir, no sir, right away sir.

Anything you want, Master Johnson.

I give you that, what do I got left?

Nothing.

out of business.

There are legitimate ways

of doing things,

and there's this way.

Not even Bumpy took 20 %.

Bumpy's f***in dead.

My man.

Doc! Let's go.

The drug problem in Vietnam

is more

Rate this script:3.3 / 3 votes