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| feature film comedy, papillon soo, classifieds, wordssong lyrics 50 cent that's what's up feat_ g unit guess who's back?, goldlyrics, moroccian, crash(2 disc director's cut edition), discopub, finger, dr. jennifer melfi, classifica, evil thatcher, mob, syria, digitalart, | Crowd: Yeah. Priest Vallon: By the ancient laws of combat, I accept the challenge of the media so called "natives." They plague our people media at every turn, but from this day out, they shall plague us no more. For let it be known, that the hand that tries to strike us from this land shall media be swiftly cut down. Crowd: YEAH. Bill: Is this it priest, the pope's new army, a few crusty bitches and a hand full of rag tags? Priest Vallon: Now, now, Bill, you swore this was a battle between warriors, not a bunch of miss nancies, so warriors is what I brought. [various Irish Gangs proceed to appear] Amsterdam Vallon: If you get all of us together, we ain't got a gang, we've got an army. McGloin: What's a nigger doing in the church? Bill: Hey, have you met Amsterdam? He almost fish-hooked McGloin. Boss Tweed: We're burying a lot of votes tonight. |
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| Bill: syria I'm forty-seven. Forty-seven years old. You know how I stayed alive this long? Fear. Fearsome acts. A man steals from me, I cut off his hand. If he offends me, syria I cut out his tongue. If he stands up against me, I cut off his head, stick it on a pike and lift it up for all to see. A spectacle of fearsome acts. That's what maintains the order of things. Fear. Bill: I'm going to paint paradise square with his blood. Two coats. Bill: Mulberry Street... syria and Worth... Cross and Orange... and Little Water. Each of the Five Points is a finger. When I close my hand it becomes a fist. And, if I wish, I can turn it against you. Bill: Thank God. I die a true American. [Amsterdam goes to wipe blood off razor] Priest Vallon: No son, never. The blood stays on the blade. One day you'll understand. Bill: That, my friends, is the minority vote. Bill: At my challenge, by the ancient laws of combat, we are met at this chosen ground, to settle for good and all who holds sway over the five points: us natives, born rightwise to this fine land, or the foreign hordes defiling it. |
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