I always make it a rule to smoke in the can. And what else is a

room with half-breeds in it, eh, Riff? Clear out,  Spics. Sure; it's a free country and I ain't got the right. But  it's a country with laws: and I can find the right. I got the  badge, you got the skin. It's tough all over. Beat it!

Say, where's the rumble gonna be? Ah, look: I know  regular American don't rub with the gold-teeth otherwise. The  river? The park? [Silence.] I'm for you. I want this beat cleaned  up and you can do it for me. I'll even lend a hand if it gets rough. Where ya gonna rumble? The playground? Sweeney's lot? [Angered by the silence.] Ya think I'm a lousy stool pigeon?