Gravedigger Jones: Hey, Ed.
Coffin Ed: What is it?
Gravedigger Jones: Look at this. Cotton, from inside the meat truck.
Coffin Ed: One thing for sure, it ain't drugstore cotton.
Anderson: What is it?
Coffin Ed: It's raw, unprocessed cotton. Like from a bale.
Gravedigger Jones: Ohhh, it's a long time since I've seen cotton like that.
Coffin Ed: Digger, you ain't never seen no raw cotton before. You were born and raised right here in New York, just like me.
Coffin Ed: What the hell do the attorney general, the state department, or even the President of the United States know about one god-damn thing that's going on up here in Harlem?
Mabel: Now what would a bail of cotton be doing in Harlem?
Iris: They say the badder the woman, the better the smell. Come sniff.
Gravedigger Jones: One more word, soul brother. You had it made. Black folks would have followed you anywhere. You could've been another Marcus Garvey or even another Malcolm X. But instead you ain't nothin' but a pimp with a chicken-shit backbone.
