Avon: Ayo what's up playboy? How come you wearin' that suit, B? For real its 85 fuckin' degrees out here and you try'na be like fuckin' Pat Riley
Proposition Joe : Look the part, be the part, motherfucker.

Bodie: [on killing Wallace] Look, the man gave the word, so we either step up or we step the fuck off. That's the game, yo.

Bodie: Man, Boys Village ain't shit! I'm just too bad for that off-brand, lil' boy bullshit, man. It can't hold me.

Bubbles: [to Kima] How y'all do what y'all do every day and not wanna get high?

Bunk Moreland: So, you're my eyeball witness, huh? [Omar nods] So, why'd you step up on this?
Omar: Bird triflin', basically. Kill an everyday workin' man and all. I mean, I do some dirt, too, but I ain't never put my gun on nobody that wasn't in the game.
Bunk: A man must have a code.
Omar: Oh, no doubt.

Bunk: [to dead body] You moldering motherfucker don't even think about coming back a murder. Don't even think of that shit.

Bunk: [to McNulty] That will teach you to give a fuck when it ain't your turn to give a fuck.

Burrell: [to Daniels] You're not wrong, Lieutenant. In this state, there's a thin line between campaign posters and photo arrays.

Burrell: You came into a lot of money quick. You can go to jail just as quick if I start asking the right questions. This case ends, or you are done. Hell, I don't even need you to lock up Barksdale. I can have your major debrief the detectives and type the warrants himself. This case is done.
Daniels: You do what you feel. You wanna pull Avon in on half a case, you go ahead. You wanna put my shit in the street, feel free. But the Eastern had a lot of stories - mine ain't the only one. A lot of people came through that district. If you were gonna do me, I'd already be done. But there ain't nothin' you fear more than a bad headline, is there? You'd rather live in shit than let the world see you work a shovel. You can order warrants, and I'll serve 'em. But as long as I have days left on those dead wires, this case goes on.

Carver: [observing Bodie beat a competing dealer with a bat] See, that's why we can't win.
Herc: Why not?
Carver:They fuck up, they get beat. We fuck up, they give us pensions.

Clay Davis: Erv, will you explain to this motherfucker just what the fuck it is he's doing here?
Burrell: Lieutenant Dan-...
Daniels: [interrupting] Excuse me, sir, but it's pretty basic. If the senator isn't involved in anything illegal, then he doesn't need to worry. I can't be any clearer than that.
Clay Davis: Fool, what do you think? That we know anything about who gives money? That we give a damn about who they are or what they want? We have no way of running down them or their stories. We don't care. We just cash the damn cheques, count the votes and move on.
Daniels: [stands] Anything else, Deputy Burrell? [leaves]

D'Angelo: All my people, man, my father, my uncles, It's just what we do. You just live with this shit, until you can't breathe no more. I swear to God, I was courtside for eight months, and I was freer in jail than I was at home.
Rhonda: What are you looking for?
D'Angelo: I want it to go away.
Rhonda: I can't...
D'Angelo: I want what Wallace wanted. I want to start over. That's what I want. I don't care where. Anywhere. I don't give a fuck. I just want to go somewhere, where I can breathe like regular folk. You give me that... And I'll give you them.

D'Angelo: If anybody asks you if in you in this game, you tell 'em you in it for life, a'ight?. You play it hard, you play it tight, and you make sure niggas know you gonn' stand by your people. No loose talk, no second thoughts and no snitching. Play it like that.

D'Angelo: Now you think Ronald McDonald gonna go down to the basement and say, "Hey Mr. Nugget - you the bomb. We sellin' chicken faster than you can tear the bone out. So I'm gonna write my clowney ass name on this fat-ass check for you." Shit. Man, the nigga who invented them things? Still working in the basement for regular wage, thinking of some shit to make the fries taste better or some shit like that. Believe.

D'Angelo: Where's Wallace at? ... Where's the boy, String?
Stringer: D'Angelo, shut your mouth.
D'Angelo: Where's Wallace? That's all I wanna know.
Levy: Kid, you better think...
D'Angelo: Where's Wallace? Where the fuck is Wallace? Huh? Huh? String? String? Look at me! Where the fuck is Wallace? HUH!? I don't want this Payless-wearing motherfucker representing me. I'ma get my own man. So just get back in your car and get the fuck back down south.
Stringer: A'ight, you stupid motherfucker, you made your decision.
D'Angelo: Yeah, I made my decision. Where's Wallace at? Where the fuck is Wallace? Where's Wallace, String? String! Where the fuck is Wallace? Huh? Stringer?!