Beat Street Page #2

I was in the army with him.

- You're looking for him in the basement?

- Este esta loco. Let's get out of here.

No, wait.

This is the address, right?

- Sure. Malo's big brother.

- Yeah, but they dipped out a long time ago.

- After the fire.

- What fire? Tito was in a fire?

Tito wasn't in a fire. The building was.

Landlord torched this building

about five times.

Damn.

I've thought about him for almost a year.

Man, he could play them conga drums, too.

We were supposed to get up a band.

It's been my dream to play in a band

in New York.

This ain't New York, this is the Bronx.

Come on, K, let's get back to business.

- Could you give me something to eat?

- You got any cash?

Come on.

What's up?

You're biters. All your homeboys are biters.

- You're all wack. What's up with that?

- What are you talking about?

I never stole moves from you.

Your moves ain't worth it to be bit.

What's up with that, punk?

Punk? Who you calling punk?

That's biting.

Later. Roxy?

- Don't flake.

- Be there.

- Damn Spit! Writes his name on everything.

- Ramo, what you doing?

Lousy bastard, Spit!

That was Luis' best burner.

It's only been running three days.

- Ramo, later for that.

- Come on.

Get on the train.

Good morning.

Ramo's making us

the baddest sweatshirts. Word.

You know the kind that turn inside out?

One side's gonna say "Beat Street"

and our name.

The other side will have curvy lines.

And when I do my backspin...

it'll be the baddest, man. Incredible.

Kenny, why don't you just move that cereal

and lay your whole body across the table?

I thought we'd stopped

dancing on the sidewalk for pennies.

But, Mom. We made $46 last time.

The money is not the issue, Lee.

Sit up, Kenny.

What time did you get in last night?

About midnight.

I'm glad you're still telling me the truth.

Now eat.

What's the big deal about eating oatmeal...

when all I feel is tired for real?

Is my rap too slick, my tongue too quick

my gallant talent like a magic trick?

Eat your eggs before I break your legs.

Now you know where your

gallant talent came from.

Open the door, Lee.

Open the door.

Who goes there?

Chollie, brother.

Who goes there, little brother?

You know I don't want you out so late.

When you do it, Lee does it, too.

Then I've got the both of you

to worry about.

I've already lost one son out there.

There he is, Double K. How you doing?

- How are you, Mrs. Kirkland?

- Good morning, Chollie.

You want this toast, man?

Tomorrow, we're loose.

And I got a rocket in my pocket.

Comps to the Roxy.

I'm talking major leagues.

How did you do that?

Just a little business.

If you're going to be a superstar

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