Omar: Shoot, the way y'all looking at things, ain't no victim to even speak on.
Bunk: Bullshit, boy. No victim? I just came from Tosha's people, remember? All this death, you don't think it ripples out? You don't even know what the fuck I'm talking about. I was a few years ahead of you at Edmondson, but I know you remember the neighborhood, how it was. We had some bad boys, for real. Wasn't about guns so much as knowing what to do with your hands. Those boys could really rack. My father had me on the straight, but like any young man, I wanted to be hard too, so I'd turn up at all the house parties where the tough boys hung. Shit, they knew I wasn't one of them. Them hard cases would come up to me and say, "Go home, schoolboy, you don't belong here." Didn't realize at the time what they were doing for me. As rough as that neighborhood could be, we had us a community. Nobody, no victim, who didn't matter. And now all we got is bodies, and predatory motherfuckers like you. And out where that girl fell, I saw kids acting like Omar, calling you by name, glorifying your ass. Makes me sick, motherfucker, how far we done fell.

Prez: If that idiot worked for us, he'd be a deputy commissioner by now.

Proposition Joe: [to Stringer] The feeling is it ain't right for you to be at the head of our table, when you can't call off your dog. Call it a crisis of leadership.

Proposition Joe: For a cold-ass crew of gangstaz, y'all carried it like Republicans and shit.

Rawls: Amazing. Crime is down and no one wants to take any credit. What is wrong with this picture?

Rawls: Bunny, you cocksucker, I got to give it to you, a brilliant idea. Insane and illegal, but stone fuckin' brilliant nonetheless. After all my puttin' my foot up people's asses to get the numbers down, he comes along and in one stroke, gets a 14 fuckin' percent decrease. Fuckin' shame it's gonna end our careers, but still.

Runner: Yo, I just rolled for peanut butter. You got anything else?
Colicchio: The fuck I look like, Chef Boyardee?
Runner: Who?

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.

Squeak: You've got to be the stupidest motherfucker I've ever dated.
Bernard: [to crony] I can't wait to go to jail.
Season 4

Stringer: Make this quick, I got a meet.
Fatface Rick: Oh, fuck your meet! You're harder to get at than my fat wife's cunt.

Stringer: That's good. That's like a forty degree day. Ain't nobody got nuttin to say about a forty degree day. Fifty? Bring a smile to your face. Sixty? Shit, niggas are damn near barbecuing that mothafucka. Go down to twenty? Niggas get they bitch on. Get they blood complainin... but forty? Nobody give a FUCK about forty. Nobody remember forty, and ya'll niggas is giving me way too many forty degree days. What the fuck?!

Stringer: We don't need to dream no more.