Blood In, Blood Out Page #2

Does a white boy get a VL placazo?

No, he don't.

I'd have my placa now if the judge

hadn't thrown me out of East Los.

Chale, you wouldn't

have sh*t, milkweed.

It's some serious sh*t, homes.

It don't wash off.

First sign of trouble,

you'll be running back to

your white boy daddy in Las Vegas.

Oy, e, Miklo.

Just wait till your number's

called, ese. You'll get one.

Folsom and Indiana,

possible vehicle violation.

First Street, 8703.

F***, man.

I'm on probation, man.

- Always f***in' with us.

- Cool it, ese!

What seems to be the problem, sir?

Bumper clearance

has gotta be at least ten inches.

- Oh, really?

- You in the car.

Registration, licence.

You do this to people

in Beverly Hills, eh?

Take off the glasses, please.

You look familiar.

You got a record?

Y-Yes, sir, he's got a record.

He's got a great record.

"The Black Rooster."

Thirteen K.O. 's.

And he's got

a great right uppercut.

- You, uh, used to train

at the Boy's Club, didn't you?

- Two years.

Second division Golden Gloves,

till, till he broke his wrist.

- Yeah, I remember.

- See?

This your car?

Well, l-I just painted it, sir.

What do you think?

It looks nice.

Listen, uh, just raise up

the bumper a few inches, okay?

Like your uppercut.

Ah, it's all right, Joe. Let's go.

Hey, you know who that kid was?

Didn't have that f***in' badge between

us, we'd see who hassles who, eh?

- Shut the f*** up, ese.

- Don't be using my boxing any more, eh.

Don't be stupid, ese.

He just tried to save our asses, home.

Hey, I let you put my hat

off my head once, vato...

but you better keep

your f***in' face outta my business

before I put you down, milkweed.

Come on. Let's get this ranfla back.

You know it.

- You hungry, Miklo?

- I got the munchies, homes.

We get back to the cantn,

we'll get some refino.

See if Mama Dolores made some...

...those cookies

your mom used to make.

Chocolate baked...

Even a white boy

should like chocolate.

- Hey. Come here.

- Pull it up a little on your end.

Check it out, homies.

Who is it?

Right in our own

f***in' alley, homes!

- But those f***ers crossed the line, eh.

- Into dead man's land, ese.

- You packin' a filero, homes?

- Chale, just my dick in my pants.

- We gotta do something, man!

- Don't f*** around, ese!

Oh, we gotta do something?

Well, do something then, Rooster.

- Chale, why do you...

- You're listo. Come on. You're ready.

Come on. You want your placazo

so bad? Do something.

- Let me see the colour inside you.

- Leave it alone, ese.

- Come on, come on.

- Hey, what the f***'s

wrong with you, ese?

That's what I thought, Amarillo.

- Leave it alone, carnal.

- Watch me, Jolly Green Giant!

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