Edgar: I go out. I work my butt off to make a living. All I want is to come home to a nice clean house with a nice fat steak on the table. But instead I get this. It looks like poison. Don't you take that away! I'm eating that, damn it! It is poison isn't it!? I swear to God, I would not be surprised if it was.
J: All right, I'm in. 'Cause, look, there's some next-level shit going on around here, and I'm with that. But, before y'all get to beaming me up, there's a couple things I want you to understand. First off, you chose me. So you recognize the skills. And I don't want nobody calling me "Son", or "Kid", or "Sport", or nothing like that, cool?
K: Cool, whatever you say, Slick, but I need to tell you something about all your skills. As of right now, they mean precisely dick.
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