It's not their problem.
It's ours.

Like it's not theirs,
it's our problem.

Fucking assholes of the world.
Leaking their shit into my yard.
Fuel-leaking motherfuckers.
It's bullshit, man.
It's bullshit.

All right, in case Mrs. Wilson
hasn't said so...

seniors who are late see her,
sophomores and juniors see me.

Mr. Wimms, you're late.
Yeah, special situation. I had to get
my cousin Nikki. It's her first day.

Tough break. She's late too.
- Go ahead.
- This is the office.

Kelvin Macrae
is returning to school.

- Says who?
- Says Kelvin.

Oh, yeah?
You send him to me right now.

Yes, sir.
One more time, and it's ice for you
for a week, my friend.

You know, Mr. C., you ain't makin'
a good impression on my cousin here.

- Bye.
- Later.

- Name?
- Nikki Patterson.

Oh, yeah. Midterm transfer
from Brooklyn, right?

- Yeah, East New York.
- East New York, right.

Well, things are different
here in Detroit.

- Yeah, you have more walkie-talkies.
- Exactly. Very different.

- Mr. Cimino.
- Hello, Michelle.

- Look, this isn't my fault.
- It's my fault, Mr. Cimino.

By the way, that's a nice tie. MyJeep
broke down and had to be towed.

And I have a note here
from my mechanic.