What the fuck happened?
- Oh, that boy got shot up!
- Who did?

I wouldn't know. I wasn't here, so
I can't talk intelligently about it.

Yo, uh... I wouldn't want you
not to talk intelligently.

(Man) The body cold already.
Excuse me. Coming through. Thank you.
(Woman) Damn! Excuse me(!)
Hey! Welcome to the show
that never ends.

Bartucci, what you got?
We got a black male, dead man.
Darryl Adams, 22 years old.

He's the night manager of this joint.
Kid's standin' by the door having
a conversation with another male.

Pop, pop, poppity-pop.
Darryl goes down.

Shooter does a Carl Lewis.
Neighbourhood says
there's four shots fired.

At this point, that's all she wrote.
- Robbery?
- Nah. Way too fast.

Drugs? Was he a scumbag?
To tell you the truth,
I never seen this kid before.

Boys, Darryl Adams.
Darryl Adams, the boys.

- Hey, Darryl.
- Hello in there.

(Cop) Live by the gun,
die by the gun.

- The kid had brains.
- Good thing he was wearin' his gold.

Bing, bing, bing. Ricochet Rabbit.
I still think it was the food here.
Hal, get in there,
tell me what you got.

There she blows.
Let's see.
No powder burns on the face.

- These eyes have lied.
- Looking about 30, 35 years old.

- Doors one and two.
- OK, let's see.

Nothin' up the sleeve.
He might get better,
but he ain't never gettin' well.

- And presto!
- Hey, slapped him five.

On the light hand side.
Hey, look at that. Looks like some
kind of an Egyptian peace sign.

You're right there. It says goodbye.
Hey, Moe. My main man.
Gonna need prints off that door.

Fuck you, Rocco.
That'll really narrow it down(!)

We'll get half the yos
in Brooklyn off this door.

- What, did you eat at Ahab's Burger?
- Yeah.