Marvel's Luke Cage

Pop: They lose 65 games only to end up with the fourth pick in the draft.

Did they tank that shit on purpose?

Read the words, pop. Right there on the wall.

Brother's got a point, Henry, much as I hate to admit that.

That's right. Pay up.

You're right, you're right. I shouldn't have cursed.

- My bad, Lonnie. - It's okay, pop.

Pop: (Chuckles) All right.

What's their record this year, anyway, like?

Pop: 17 and 65.

You know that Russian kid they drafted? He better be good.

He's Latvian.

What they need to do is fire Phil Jackson.

Pop: Wait a minute, Phil Jackson ain't out there playing no more.

Phil Jackson overrated, b.

Anybody can win with Jordan and Kobe.

Phil ain't no pat Riley.

- (All groaning) - Aw, Riley, again?

- Pop: Yeah. - Here we go.

Chico: I mean, Pacino...

Now, I get why that white boy makes your free haircut list.

The godfather and scar face guaranteed that man an eternal ghetto pass.

- Carlito's way, too. - Shameek: Mmm-hmm.

- Chico: But pat Riley? - Pop: Yeah.

Chico: Why does pat Riley get so much love in this shop?

Right. Even punk-ass Derek Fisher got more rings than pat Riley.

Uh-uh.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

'Cause the Knicks played like men when pat Riley was head coach.

Oakley and ewing went hard in the paint.

Plus, Anthony Mason and John starks?

Drive the Lane, you might go home in a body bag.

All right, now I heard that.

Later with all that instagramming,

"let's all Max contract on the same team together" bullcrap

- passing as competition nowadays. - (All laughing)

Pop: (Laughs) Mmm. Yeah.

Didn't pat Riley sign those Instagram dudes down in Miami

when he became the gm?

Maybe.

But king James is the truth. LeBron can ball.

Pop: (Chuckles) Yeah.

Now pay up, Luke. You said "bullcrap."

"Bullcrap" ain't a curse, man. I don't curse.

- (Imitating Luke) "I don't curse." - (Laughs)

You don't cut hair either, negro.

Like, really, what do you do up in here, bruh?

I sweep hair, shameek.

I also mop, I wash the towels,

and I make sure that plate glass window stays spotless.

It's called work. Something you would never understand.

Slam magazine... hmm?

Coaches used to live up in this piece, son.

Kevin Ollie got a shape-up right there from pop's.

Pitino, too.

Stylin' and profilin', that's my work.

- See what I'm sayin'? Yeah? - Yeah. Tell him.

For real?

Doc rivers, uh, call you yet, shameek?

Whoa, all right. Play nice.

- You can't even afford a haircut. - Shameek: Hey, you know what?

- I'm about sick and tired of... - Luke: What?

Hmm?

You sick and tired of what?

About sick and tired of the Knicks iosin' all the time, man!

- (Shameek sighs) - (Chuckles)

You got some hair, too, right there.

- I'm not finished. - Yes, you are.

- (Door opens) - (Bell dings)

- Hey, counselor. - Aw, don'tjinx me, pop.

I haven't even passed the bar yet.

- Oh, you will. - (Chuckles)

Lonnie, you got kumon tonight. Let's go.

Come on, boy, you heard your mama.

Let's get moving.

Don't make me repeat myself.

Hey, Luke.

What time you get off?

I got another job I go to right after I leave this one.

Black man working. Ain't nothing wrong with that.

Well, we should at least try to get some coffee some time.

Maybe you'll need a lawyer one day.

Hopefully, you'll have some cards by then.

Pop: (Chuckles) Hey.

Be sure and tell bessie I said hey.

- I will. - Mmm-hmm.

How's a woman that fine with a briefcase

go and throw it at a brother with a broom?

That's what you don't get, young in'.

Either you have it or you don't.

- (Chuckling) - Oh, I know I got it.

Shit. (Indistinct muttering)

Pop: Whoa, whoa. See the words... Right there on the wall.

- (Scoffs) - Hmm?

- Pop: Pay up. - Come on, pop.

Pop: Huh, there you go again.

I shook everything else after I got out.

Cigarettes, paranoia... But the pacing?

I do it, too. (Grunts softly)

Reva again?

Reva always.

Look, it's been long enough.

Give Patty a call. She's a good woman.

I don't drink coffee much.

I don't think she does either.

Like she said, "ain't nothing wrong with that."

When I'm ready, I'm ready.

But you'll want a cup of something hot and dark sooner or later...

Mr bulletproof.

- (Chuckling) - There you go with the nicknames, pop.

You said your rebound chick took a shotgun at point-blank range...

Pointed it under your chin, and pulled the trigger.

I still get the occasional headache.

Not a problem for you, power man.

Mmm-mmm. (Chuckles)

I love it when you do stuff like that. (Chuckling)

You should be out there helping people, that's all,

like them other fellas downtown.

Reva used to say the same thing.

Yeah, well, she was right.

You don't ever think about all the people you could help?

You should be more ambitious.

What if my ambition is to sweep hair...

Wash dishes...

And be left the hell alone?

Well, that would be a waste.

You think I asked for any of this?

I was framed, beaten...

And put in some tank like an exotic fish.

Came out with...

Abilities.

Saved your life.

More like ruined it.

Reva's dead. (Exhales)

I'm a fugitive.

So?

Take my advice, brother.

The past is the past.

And the only direction in life that matters is fonnard.

Never backwards.

I'm just living my life...

Day to day.

Why don't you watch where you going, man?

What's the gun for, chico?

Is your name wilfredo Diaz?

'Cause he walked out on me and mums when I was nine.

I ain't need a daddy then and I don't need one now.

- Let's get this money. - Yeah.

Tsk.

Hey, pop, I gotta go. I'm runnin' late.

Hey. Look, if I wasn't paying you in cash, I could be paying you more.

You wouldn't have to be workin' two jobs.

I gotta do what I gotta do.

Always fonnard.

Fonnard. Always.

Vendor: Hey, yo, my man, my man.

All hd. Got it right here. Blu-ray, too, 'cause I'm nice like that.

Tony stark, the big blonde dude with the hammer,

the old dude with the shield,

the green monster, and I don't mean Fenway.

You can't get better raw footage of the incident

anywhere else than right here.

- Hey, Luke. - (Luke chuckles)

Every time.

It's the bleach. I can smell it from around the corner.

Pop has got you washing towels again, huh?

Yeah, I took a new yorker off the top for you.

Can't tell you what's on the cover, though.

Hey, I hope you got Connie's rent money.

She's on the warpath.

- (Chuckles) - Thanks, Ollie.

Ollie: Mmm-hmm.

Ten days late, mr cage. I need my rent money.

Here.

I count $300. Not enough.

Let me go to work and get the rest.

Tonight.

- (Music continues playing) - (Indistinct chatter)

I need a favour. Short one bartender. Dante's sick.

You got the cash you promised me?

- End of the week. - Come on, Nate.

You can keep all your tips out there, okay?

When was the last time you made drinks?

I know the drill.

Okay, okay. Clean up.

Put a shirt and jacket on. Mr Stokes has standards.

Though you can't tell by what he pays.

Excuse me?

Raphael saadiq.

- He's as good live as you said he was. - Even better.

So you're not impressed by all this?

I've always been proud of you.

Stokes: This place was a roach trap by the time mama Mabel died.

Now look at it.

Harlem's paradise. May as well be the new cotton club.

Then I shouldn't be up in here tonight.

Well...

Madam councilwoman...