Rupert Bond: What the fuck just happened?
Rhonda: Whatever it is, they don't teach it in law school.

Security Guard: You think I dream of comin' to work up in this shit on a Sunday mornin'. Tell all my friends what a good job I got. I'm workin' to support a family man. Pretend I ain't talking to you. Pretend like I ain't even on this Earth. I know what you are, and I ain't steppin' to, but I am a man, and you just clip that shit and act like you don't even know I'm there.
Marlo: I don't.
Security Guard: I'm here. [Marlo moves closer] Look, I told you I wasn't steppin' to. I ain't disrespectin' you, son.
Marlo: You want it to be one way.
Security Guard: What?
Marlo: You want it to be one way.
Security Guard: Man, I don't...
Marlo: You want it to be one way.
Security Guard: Man, STOP! Stop, sayin' that.
Marlo: But it's the other way.

Sergei: Family cannot be helped.
Proposition Joe: Who you tellin'? I got motherfuckin' nephews and in-laws fucking all my shit up all the time and it ain't like I can pop a cap in their ass and not hear about it Thanksgivin' time. For real, I'm livin' life with some burdensome niggers.
...
Nick: Thanks for bein' straight on this.
Proposition Joe: Fool, if it wasn't for Sergei here, you and your cuz' both would be cadaverous motherfuckers.

Shamrock: We done gone so far from Baltimore, we're losing the station. Yo', try a Philly station or some shit like that.
Bodie: The radio in Philly is different?
Shamrock: Nigga, please. You gotta be fucking with me, right? You ain't never heard a station outside of Baltimore?
Bodie: Yo' man, I ain't never left Baltimore except that Boys Village shit one day, and I wasn't tryin' to hear no radio up in that bitch.

Shamrock: Yo. Chair ain't recognized your ass.

Slim Charles: [when Stringer asks him to kill Clay Davis] Shit, murder ain't no thing, but this here is some assassination shit!

Slim Charles: But what if they don't cop our re-up, though?
Stringer: Well, I'ma worry about that when it happen. Until then, Mr. Charles, we're going to handle this shit like businessmen, sell the shit, make the profit and later for that gangsta bullshit. [Poot raises his hand.] Yeah.
Poot: Do the chair know we gonna look like some punk-ass bitches out there?
Stringer: Motherfucker, I will punk your ass for sayin such shit!
Shamrock: Yo, String, Poot did have the floor, man.
Stringer: Shut the fuck up, this nigga too ignorant to have the fuckin' floor!

Slim Charles: Don't matter who did what to who at this point. Fact is, we went to war and now there ain't no goin' back. I mean, shit, it's what war is, you know? Once you in it, you in it. If it's a lie, then we fight on that lie. But we gotta fight.

Slim Charles: Yeah, now, well, the thing about the old days: they the old days.

Snoop: [after Chris beats a man to death] Damn... you ain't even wait to get the nigga in the house!

Snoop: Back to business, I say.
Chris: She ain't had any work in a few months. She's somewhat eager.
Snoop: God damn, right? Too much fuckin' talkin' around here lately, man. Niggas need to shut the fuck up, for real.

Snoop: Fuck them west coast niggas. 'Cuz in B-more, we aim to hit a nigga, ya heard.

Snoop: God-dayumn.
Salesman: I see you've got the DeWalt cordless. [pause] Your nailgun. DeWalt four-ten.
Snoop: Yeah. Trouble is, ya leave it in the truck for a while, and need to step up and use da bitch, da battery don't hold up, ya know?
Salesman: Yeah. Cordless'll do that. You might want to consider the powder-actuated tool. The Hilti DX460MX or the Simpson PTP. These two are my Cadillacs. Everything else on this board is second best, sorry to say. Are you contracting or just doing some work around the house?
Snoop: Nah, we work all over.
Salesman: Full time?
Snoop: Nah, we had about five jobs last month.
Salesman: At that rate, the cost of the powder actuated gun justifies itself.
Snoop: You say ‘power'?
Salesman: Powder.
Snoop: Like gunpowder.
Salesman: Yeah. The DX460 is fully automatic, with a 27 caliber charge. Wood, concrete, steel to steel, she'll throw a fastener into anything. And for my money, she handles recoil better than the Simpson or the P3500. You understand what I mean by recoil?
Snoop: Yeah. The kickback. I'm wit cha.
Salesman: That's right.
Snoop: 27 caliber, huh?
Salesman: Not large ballistically, but for driving nails, its enough. Any more and you'd add to the recoil.
Snoop: Aw shit, I seen a tiny ass .22 round nose drop a nigga plenty a days, man. Motherfuckers get up in ya like a pinball, rip your ass up. Big joints though? Most the time they just break a bone and they just say “fuck it.” I'ma go with this right here, man. How much do I owe you?
Salesman: Six-sixty-nine, plus tax.
[Snoop counts out money]
Salesman: No no, just pay at the register.
Snoop: No man you handle that for me, and keep the rest for your time.
Salesman: This is $800.
Snoop: So what man? You earned that bump like a motherfucker, man. Keep that shit.

Snoop: Let us pray. Here we lay a couple New York boys who came too far south for their own fuckin' good. Where ya fuckin' Yankee pride at now, fuckin' bitches? Let's get the fuck outta here.

Sobotka: What do you say, Johnny? What do you say to any question?
Johnny Fifty: I take the Fifth Commandment.