Die Like a Man

Green house, green house.

What the fuck?

Fuck.

Threes and the fours, get the job done.

.380, .38, .45, that's the trinity, man.

Skull fragments, and a DOA.

Now, that's what you want, man.

That's what you want, right there.

Not a .22 or a .25.

Fuck the .20's, that's BB gun shit.

What?

I can't find no green house.

It's on Lomita.

Look for the '52 Ford, brown Top.

He parks it out back.

Okay.

Don't fuck this up.

I won't.

You doing push-ups like I told you?

-Hmm? -Fuck, yeah.

Don't look like it.

That's it.

You won't feel the force until you squeeze the trigger.

The homies call me Casper.

Like the cartoon.

West Los be where I'm from.

The Four Corners.

Venice, Santa Monica, Culver City, Sotel.

The neighborhood's been here way before my time.

Back then it was Dogtown,

and the OG Boardwalk gangsters in my pop's days.

Then the AKs and crack rolled in.

They used to say hell was empty,

because all the devils were in L.A.

Then the hipsters invaded, and the old school faded.

Times done changed, but...

people say the same shit,

because there are only two kind of fools out here.

Those who last,

and those who lose.

That's the game.

Trust no man, and swing first.

I found a letter in my mom's closet from my dad.

She said he was a poet.

Then one day, he just left.

Dad had pretty cool handwriting.

He says in the letter, most people go to heaven

if they own up to what they done.

I don't know what he did, because mom won't tell me.

She says that nobody knows,

but the street knows.

Because they'd always be watching.

How many of these have you inked?

Hmm. I don't fucking know.

A lot.

Each one's different.

Shit, I've done good wings and bad wings.

But no ugly ones.

God don't make ugly angels.

Only the good ones and the bad ones.

Just like us.

We all got that dark side.

And then the light.

It hurt, or what?

A little.

Hmm.

It's just pain, my boy.

It's just pain.

Fuck 'em all.

Happy birthday.

Your pops made this in the pen.

There.

It's older than you.

If that cross can talk, man.

Shit.

I'd be doing life.

When did he make it?

Way back before you was born.

The '90s.

It was like the Wild West out there, back then.

Niggas and eses bangin' like it was fuckin' Iraq.

No Instagram.

No fuckin' Facebook.

Only pay phones and ghetto blasters,

and Saturday Night Specials, man.

There was a lot of heat back in them days

between Blacks and Mexicans, man.

Me and your pops was brothers.

No matter what went down, we didn't give a fuck

about none of that shit, man.

We was brothers.

That was it.

We done some fucked up shit back in our time.

But Jesus still loved us.

Your pops made that in Chino.

Sent it to me for my birthday.

Yeah.

Now it's yours.

Everything he schooled me on, I'm gonna teach you.

Okay?

You know what? Fuck you, bitch!

You've been on me after all day long I've worked!

What's going on with you that you have to--

If you don't know where I'm at?

I just want you to be where the fuck I am, huh?

And I'm at home! I'm not out fucking around!

Oh, baby, you're home!

I'm home now! So, now what?

Now what? What you gonna do?

What-- What is it you wanna tell me?

You blow up my phone, you blow up my phone, now, what?

You never fuckin' listen to me!

Why you talking to my mom that way, fool.

I'll blast your ass away, stupid.

Huh?

Good! Now I'm here! What?

- What? - What is it you wanna

tell me now? Huh?

Does it even fucking matter at this point?

-I don't know, does it matter? -Does it fucking matter?

You did this!

Mm. It's all right.

What do you want for your birthday?

Hmm... nothing.

Hell, no.

I ain't no kid no more.

Ew, why you gotta say that?

Don't buy any weed, all right?

- No promises. - No promises.

Fuckin' finally.

The guys makes that shit so easy,

6,000 a night.

Hey, yo, Freddy!

Hey, where you going, fool?

Hey, let me get at you.

Aah!

Let's go.

Chill.

-No! -That's a foul.

-That's a foul. -No!

Wait! Ah!

Oh!

What are you doing?

-Gimme your hand. -Ready?

I win.

Ew.

My sister just got a tat across her back from a Morrissey song.

-Ooh. -Morrissey?

Who's Morrissey?

He's like God.

Greatest fucking singer in the world.

I would-- I would marry him right now.

-What you talking about? -Yeah.

What's he look like?

- Ooh, look. - Like this.

You know?

-What? -He ain't no fucking guy.

All right, fuck you.

What's up, Freddy?

You didn't fucking hear me talking to you

-back there or what? -No, I heard you.

So why the fuck didn't you stop, homie?

I didn't fuckin' feel like it.

Then, what the fuck you doing in the hood, homie?

So what, you think you're bad now or what, fool?

-Back up. -Do something, fool.

-Back up. -Do something.

Let me get at you. What you doin'? Hmm?

Get back here.

What you gonna do? What you gonna do?

- Get up. Come on, get up! - Hey! Fuck off!

Come on, Freddy.

Get the fuck off me!

- You fuckin'-- - Ah! Stop!

Fuck! You little...

You think you're a fucking man? Motherfucker, or what? Dog.

Get the fuck off! Get off me!

Hey! Get the fuck back.

Get the fuck up outta here.

- You disrespecting-- - That's right!

- Shut up, bitch! - Run like the bitches you are!

- Shut the fuck up. - Come back.

-Luna! Shut up! -Come back!

What the fuck's your problem? I'm trying to help you.

You ain't helping nobody.

You good?

Yeah, I'm good.

Get up out of here with that shit, homie.

Here.

It's my brother's. He won't mind.

You sure?

Nah, he likes you.

What the fuck is this?

He's gay.

-I can't. -Can't what, fool?

It's a shirt. It ain't dirty.

I ain't wearing no fag shirt.

No disrespect.

Oh, my God!

You're such a fucking pussy.