When I die, I am going to go straight to heaven,
and you're going to ask me why.
Did I pray enough?
No.
Did I share enough?
Not really.
Was I humble enough?
Definitely not.
"So, what makes you so sure you're going straight to heaven," you ask me.
And I will tell you.
Because I told the truth.
And five, six, seven, eight, and:
A.K.: Humanity seems to be divided into two categories.
People trying to be good and people trying to be bad.
TEACHER: Three, four and five.
Borey, get those back legs under.
But personally, I don't always see so much difference,
Because if you spend your whole life as a saint,
eventually you will crave the opposite, and the filth will appear
as an oasis in the desert.
That was a bit better, but the arms:
Yes, keeping the shoulders down.
But if you'll spend your life in the gutter,
sooner or later, you will be searching for wisdom.
A.K.: Like a pig sniffing for truffles.
Hanky-panky, goddamn bastard.
Filth and wisdom.
They are two sides of the same coin.
And you know whichever side is facing up
eventually will lead to your salvation.
In my country, we have a saying:
He who licks the knives soon will cut his tongue.
So if you want to be saved, you've got to go to hell first.
Drop and give me 20, you skinny little fuck.
You worthless piece of shit. You're fucking pathetic.
You'd never make it into my platoon.
Sir, yes, sir.
What the fuck did you just call me? Did you tell me to fuck my mother?
No, sir.
Uh-huh.
So you're saying that my sister is a whore?
Do you know what?
I fucked your sister and I fucked her in the ass.
Lick my boots, you fucking pencil-dick!
You gotta fucking lick them!
Fucking disgusting.
Your time is up.
Oh, he is guilty who is not at home.
Thank you.
Can it just be true that when we tip our head to the left,
the liquids inside run this way,
and so we pretty much think that shit is this way?
Then we tip our head to the right
and the liquids inside flow other way,
and we think pretty much the opposite?
Or just keep your head all straight,
like dear old Daddy says,
and pretty soon you'll get yourself a swamp up there.
Take Professor Flynn.
He live on the ground floor.
Andre?
A.K.: The one and only. Here I come. - Andre!
A.K.: He write many books and has much respect as a poet,
but he sit in darkness and alone.
- What took you so long? - Come in, come in.
A.K.: I'll just put away this for you.
- I'm his errand boy. - Thank you.
At your service any time.
And not in a kinky way.
A little bit noisy upstairs last night, Andre.
He's got a swamp up there.
Andre?
How many times? My name is A.K.
- Why can't you just call me A.K.? - I thought we had an arrangement.
Yeah, an arrangement is that I get paid to be your errand boy.
- Overpaid. - Overpaid.
And not that you get to call me a name that a dog of a father gave to me.
- Stop being so dramatic, Andre. - But I love dramatic.
And I love words.
There is more to love than words.
For instance?
For instance, a back of a woman's neck.
Ah.
But you needed words to tell me that.
Mm? Naughty, naughty, naughty.
Naughty, naughty, naughty.
Touch? professor.
I don't mean to be rude, but if you love words so much,
how could you stop writing?
The day I stopped seeing is the day I stopped writing.
Well, then you're just wasting your talent.
How, may I ask, are you wasting yours?
The last time a man put his hand on me did not end very nicely.
Strange how every branch has desire to imitate its root.
?Where Rimsky and Korsakov they met ?
?On the Sturm and Drang banquet ?
?Still I miss Carpaty! ?
?A.K. Miss Carpaty, miss Carpaty ?
?Miss Carpaty, miss Carpaty ?
?Sojuzivka is the best ?
?Oh, how I miss Carpaty! ?
A.K.: Have a nice day, professor.
- Morning, Sardeep. - Morning, morning. Please hurry.
- We have many bloody customers today. - Okay.
- Come, come, come. - Okay.
Okay. Hurry, hurry, hurry.
- Give me a minute. - All right.
Oh, Juliette.
Bloody hell.
- Thank you. - Thank you.
Hello.
It'll just be a few moments, okay?
Sardeep.
Hi, Chloe.
- How are you? - Fine, thanks.
I'm a little busy right now.
- Dad says hello. - Hello, Dad.
Yeah, he's hoping you'll get sick of this hideous job,
change your mind about going to medical school.
Since when did you become his step-and-fetch-it dog?
I'm not going to medical school.
I want to help people, not rip them off on Harley Street.
Dad helps people.
Yeah, he has the healing touch.
We both know that.
SARDEEP: Juliette?
Thank you. Miss? Excuse me?
Thank you.
Spare change?
Why can't you just let go of the past?
That's exactly what I'm doing.
I miss you.
Are you all right there, Sar? Deep in thought, are we, my son?
Hello, Mickey. You all right? I didn't see you there.
- Good, thank you. - Just this?
- Yes, please. - Okay.
Can I? Thank you very much, and here's your change.
- Thank you. - And a bag. You want a bag?
- Yes, please. - Of course you want a bag.
- Your bag. - Thank you.
- By the way, how is the wife and kids? - Fine.
Nice, liking your style. Quality.
Ta-da.
Why is everyone obsessed with these bloody, starving Africans?
Oh, hello.
- I'll have the money by next week. - Yeah, no worries.
I mean, you know, there's no rush. Just when you can.
I'm sorry. You know I'd give it to you.
A.K.: Take Holly, for example.
She's got herself a swamp there too.
She's beautiful.
She ballet dancing for 16 years.
She is everything I've ever wanted,
but she's broke.
Okay, will someone please tell me why I still don't have a job?
Maybe I can try. Let's see.
It's not 1800s anymore, we're not in Russia,
and nobody gives a fuck about ballet.
Heh. Yeah, we're all fucked.
Heh-heh. Speak for yourself, fucking Florence Nightingbird.
I'm this far away from transcontinental superstardom.
And I'm this far away from telling the rest of your band
what you do to make money.
- Did you take your medication? - Yeah, did you?
You know, in my country, there is a saying:
If you want to reach the sky, fuck a duck and try to fly.
Listen, blondie pretty girl.
You don't need to lead this mouth-to-hand existence.
You have a whole cash box on your body.
A good stripper can make a lot of dough in just one night.
You have the body for it,
so dance, sweet baby girl.
- You are a vile, disgusting gypsy. - Yeah, yeah.
I'd never even contemplate taking my clothes off
for a bunch of dirty old men.
How much?
That's my girl.
I knew you were a filthy slut.
Excuse me, do you know where I can find Harry Beechman?
Mr. Beechman?
- I'm Beechman. - Oh.
I'm here for the audition. We spoke on the phone.
Ah.
You must be Holly.
Enchant? Holly.
Mmm. Um...
Do you have a costume?
I have a leotard.
Oh, dear.
Knickers and bra will do.
Right. Do you have a changing room?
- No. - No.
Come on.
That's it, lovely.
Undress for me, Holly.
Hit it, Ade.
That's it.
Ooh.
No. No.
The pole, the pole. Work the pole, dear.
No, no. Ooh.
Uh...
Take them off. Off.
Turn around.
Turn it.
Fantastic.
Okay, that'll do, Ade.
Um...
Not exactly Cirque du Soleil.
Perhaps we can work on a speciality act.
A.K.: Oh, no, no, no.
Otherwise the glue factory's waiting for you, Mr. Frisky.
And now let's kick it up, kick it up and let's kick it up.
And now, perhaps a little bit of honey oats.
A.K.: The problem with having a cash box in your body
is that you always feel empty, even when it's full.
And sooner or later you'll end up feeling ripped off.
Oh, Francine. Impeccable timing.
Um, this is Holly.
She needs a bit of tutoring, so I'll leave you two alone for a while.
Uh...
And see what you can do with it.
FRANCINE: Right, let's get down to business.
First thing's first. Take those fucking tights off.
Before Christmas would be nice.
Okay, right. Grab the pole, keep your arms straight, lean out
and walk slowly round.
Arch your back, tits out, ass out, chin up,
maintain eye contact with your audience.
Well, look like you're enjoying yourself, then.
I am.
Tracey.
- Come here and show her how it's done. - Hi.
Hi.
You ain't as bad as you think you are.
You should see the slappers that turn up here.
At least you've got class. Ah.
Look, all you got to remember is one, Japs tip best,
two, what happens in the club stays in the club,
and three, stay away from teenagers.
- They never have any money. - I just can't get my head around the pole.
You'll get the hang of it, Mary Poppins. It ain't your head you gotta get round it.
Who's there?
Andre?
Andre.
Good, up with the knees.
A.K.: It's true.
There is duality in everything.
But perhaps I should ask myself this question:
Am I consciously or unconsciously, actively or passively,
collaborating at this very moment with some behavior
that is destined to wreak havoc on another human being?
And good.
TEACHER: That's better, yes. Échapp? to escape, not these mini little things.
That's better. Right open.
Thanks.
Oh.
Typical bloody Jew.
You know, Juliette, there are over 1 million orphans living in Mumbai.
You obviously haven't been reading the bloody news.
Is that so? Well, why don't you tell me the bloody news?
Last night on Channel 4, documentary, 45 minutes with John Snow.
Really, really fantastic.
Oh, bloody chutya.
I told her not to come to work. One moment, please.
Just get the fuck out of here. Just get the fuck out of here!
- Fuck! - Get off me.
Get the fuck out of here!
- Sorry we're late, sir. - Sit down, girls.
- Has everybody done their prep? HOLLY: Yes, sir.
Rothschild hasn't.
"Sir. " What, "sir"?
No, sir.
You, Rothschild.
What is 947 divided by the square root of power of 10?
Don't know, sir.
- You don't know. - No.
Well, come out here, guttersniper.
Assume the position.
The other position, imbecile.
The other position, you moron!
What is the square root
of 947 divided by the square root
of power of 10?
- Four. - No.
Three?
- Twenty? - No.
- Thirty-four? - No.
Forty-two.
Right.
- Right? - No.
Sixteen.
Sit down.
"I traveled the world looking for lovers of the ultimate beauty
and never settled in. "
"I... "
"I've traveled the world looking for lovers of ultimate beauty. "
"I've traveled the world looking for lovers of the ultimate beauty
but never settled in. "
I am a wonderlust king.
?Let me be gone ?
Whoo!
?I've traveled the world ?
?I stay on the run ?
?Let me out ?
?Let me be gone ?
?Beat-up road sign ?
?History of time ?
?I am a wonderlust king ?
So, what's your schedule like for today, then?
I thought I'd take another look at a few more properties.
How many times do you have to look at a property before you start to develop it?
MAN: Lot of details to work out.
Square footage, investment value, neighborhood.
Will you put that fucking newspaper down?
That's better. Now...
You were saying?
I was saying...
- Details. Mm-hm. - Details to work out.
Structure, expansion capabilities.
WOMAN: Uh-huh.
Sorry. Sorry, darling. What was I saying?
Something about capability to expand a structure.
Ooh.
Look at the time. I'd better be...
Better. Better.
We all want to be better.
I want to be better.
We want to be better. The whole world would like to be better.
We'd all be better if it was a better world.
You think you're too good for this?
It's bad enough I have to get my tits out.
I'm shit.
I'm never gonna be as good as Tracey. It's just so humiliating.
Do you mind?
- It's a gents', isn't it? - Yeah, so be a gent and fuck off.
Don't you ever feel guilty doing this?
Devil's already got his piece, isn't it?
I don't need to give him another one by feeling guilty about it.
Anyways, it's not about what you show men,
it's about what you don't show them. Men like mystery.
Oh, and by the way, no one wants you to be like Tracey.
Just be yourself.
Now stop your fucking crying. I'll give you a lift home.
I treat her like a princess.
You don't know how to treat anybody like a princess.
- Ah, Holly, please sit down. - I've really got to get going.
Why? The night is young.
The moon is but a twinkle within thine eye.
- Please. What time is it, Ade? - Hmm.
- Tick-tock, it's a drink o'clock. - On the dot.
Come on. You know, you've been making such splendid progress.
- Let's celebrate. - Okay, but I'm not drinking.
Just one little sip?
There.
You've got a phenomenal look about you. You could be an actress.
- Really? - Absolutely. I've done a couple...
Sometimes I throw VIP parties, and it's an opportunity
for my most talented girls to make rather a lot of cash on the side.
Or on top.
So what am I, an actress or a prostitute?
No need to get defensive.
- Are you two at it again? - Uh...
- No. - Yeah.
You, you couldn't even pull your own fucking hair, darling.
Pull your hair.
- Pathetic. - Pathetic?
That don't even touch the fucking sides.
Stop fussing with me. I know how to walk up the stairs.
Come on.
WAITER: Something to drink? FLYNN: Yes.
Shall I get the sommelier?
No, you can get us a nice bottle of Pinot Grigio.
Do you know what you're gonna order?
Sorry, do you want me to read you the menu?
That won't be necessary.
I'll have the faggots in brine.
I'm kidding, Holly.
I thought prostitutes and minge-munchers
and strippers were supposed to be good fun.
Don't call me that.
Anyway, that's what I wanted to talk to you about.
I'm still in denial that I have to take my clothes off to make a living.
Ah. Well, for one thing, you don't have to, you've chosen to do it.
And secondly, stop being so bloody puritanical.
Isadora Duncan danced naked in front of prime ministers and kings.
Wasn't she strangled to death by her own scarf?
Yes. If you play your cards right, you too can have a glamorous death.
That doesn't make me feel any better about being a pole dancer.
The road to success is paved with humiliation.
The sooner you accept that, the easier the journey will get.
Now, let's have a toast to your new profession.
MAN: Christopher Flynn, the wunderlust king.
What bloody cave have you been hiding in?
Holly, this is Lorcan O'Neill, a very old crony of mine.
He's won a Pulitzer Prize.
He also taught me the finer art of fellatio as an undergrad at Oxford.
Relax, Holly, I'm kidding again.
No, he's not.
- I'm loving the gray, by the way. - I hadn't noticed.
Been too busy fumbling around in the dark.
WAITER: Sir?
So how have you been puffing yourself up these days?
Haven't you seen the series I've had published in the Telegraph this month?
- No. Very good, thank you. - Shame, it's fucking good.
Actually, I'm here with my publisher
to celebrate the fact that my new novel has been short-listed for the Booker Prize.
How very nice for you.
So you'll be needing a new mantelpiece
in your six-storey, semi-detached Chelsea manor, won't you?
Well, it's seven, old boy, and distinctly detached.
- I'm starving, can we order? - Forgive me, I'm going.
Holly, it was lovely to meet you,
and, Christopher, such a very nice surprise to see you after all these years.
Nice to see you too. Nice.
WAITER: Are you ready to order?
- Um, I'll have a hamburger and fries. - And I'll have the pheasant, thank you.
Burger and fries are not going to look very good in your G-string.
Maybe I'm trying to get fired.
They'll never fire you. You're too beautiful.
How do you know what I look like?
Andre may have mentioned it once or twice.
Oh, yeah?
- What color's my hair? - That's a tough one.
Let me see. I'll have to guess. Uh...
- Blond? - No, I'm not. I'm a brunette.
You're not clever enough to be a brunette.
You know he's in love with you, don't you?
I think it's you he's in love with. He can't stop talking about your poetry.
Well, he lives in a fantasy world, doesn't he?
Don't we all?
I love this guy.
Property developer, my ass.
Filthy little excuse for a man.
That's it.
I'm never doing this again, you fucking gyppo.
You fucked it up. Who the fuck told you to open the door?
Find someone else to do your dirty work.
Speaking of dirty work, I've gotta go. I'm gonna be late.
You know, in my country, we have a saying
that a man without a mustache
- is like woman with mustache. - I'm sick of your Ukrainian folklore.
Fuck you!
Take Juliette.
She's a nice girl.
She's also got a swamp up there.
She cares a lot about starving children in Africa,
and she don't know she's starving too.
CHLOE: Oh, my God. What happened to you?
What are you doing here?
- I've come to tell you something. - Well, make it fast. I've got work to do.
I'm leaving.
Leaving what?
School, home, everything. I'm gonna travel the world,
find out who I am.
You wouldn't leave the driveway without Mummy and Daddy's permission.
I've told Mum everything.
Aren't you the brave girl?
I've gotta start somewhere.
I just can't believe you'd do it, that's all.
I'd thought you'd be happy for me.
I am happy for you.
But how can you afford to travel the world?
Mum gave me money.
You're so weak.
So how does that work?
You stick around for a few more years of fatherly affection.
You don't say anything about it and get a nice prize.
Well done.
I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry.
Good for you.
Is it okay if I leave some things with you before I go?
Yeah, come by whenever.
I've got to get to work.
Get out.
Mom, how do I look?
Where did you get these clothes?
It's for you.
Who the bloody did this to you?
I'll bloody fix him good.
I'd better get out front.
I told you not to call me at work.
Yeah, well, I'm busy, busy, busy.
Daughter, bloody prostitute.
I'll deal with Lakshmi when I get home, all right?
Yeah, enough, all right.
Dinner is served.
Oh, Juliette.
Bloody hell.
Sardeep.
- What the bloody is this? - What does it look like?
What are they doing in your bloody pocket?
What are you doing in my bloody pocket?
- You, with your preoccupation WOMAN: Excuse me.
with starving children of Africa.
Bloody Africa? You can't even look after your bloody self.
WOMAN: Excuse me. - You're a hypocrite.
- Look who's talking. - I put you on a pedestal.
But it's your pedestal, Sardeep, not mine.
Don't you bloody interrupt me. This is a respectable establishment.
You can't show up here with pills
and a black eye, frightening off the customers.
- Quite right. - Thank you.
I'm an Indian, and this is a bloody Indian establishment.
I work so very hard every day. Every day, for what, huh?
My wife screams at me from the moment I get up to the moment I go to sleep.
All I want is a little bloody peace and quiet in my life.
And this is not a bloody ashram!
I will not work for a bigot.
I'm going to Africa,
and I don't care what you, or you, or anyone else thinks about it.
If I have to rob a bank to pay my way, then so be it.
WOMAN: This is not... - Piss off.
FRANCINE: Listen, if women weren't so fucking boring,
Harry wouldn't be in business.
I hates woman, just like my mommy and my sister.
I don't hate women. I just feel sorry for them.
They don't use their imagination, you know?
Men like strange, they like new. I see it every night, don't I?
NUNZIO: You know how much pizza I eat every week?
Forty-nine for the delivery to find one I like.
What, you like the delivery boy?
I love the delivery boys.
In one night, I eat 20 pizza because the same boy's coming.
You know what I say to him?
FRANCINE: No. - Call me Margarita tonight.
Honey, you show me a beautiful girl
and I'll show you a man who's tired of fucking her.
- Are you sure? - You want varnish?
- Talk is cheap. - Simple, isn't it?
Variety is the spice of life.
Am I right or am I right?
She's forever right.
Hi, Holly. Late again?
So how much do we know?
Is that Holly?
Good girl.
MAN: Come on, Britney.
Yo, professor.
Delivery boy.
We've got ripe olives from Turkey.
We've got one loaf organic bread, brown.
We've got
a fruit basket from the Lord, all sprinkled with nectars.
A special for my blind man.
Rubbish, isn't it?
No.
In fact, it's brilliant.
- I wanna read more. - There aren't any more.
There are such things as Braille, you know?
What's the point of sitting here feeling sorry for yourself?
I would give my eyes to write like you.
Okay, okay. Go, go.
Thank you for helping the fucking blind man.
Can I just put away this for you?
Please, just go.
Go!
TEACHER: Using the time. Good, ladies.
Up. That's it. Right round. Good. Oh, good.
One, two.
And around. And four.
Tight fifth, through, and back to the last.
Good. Two.
Over.
And through.
And...
Good.
Okay, thank you. Thank you, Shaun.
Right, see you tomorrow, thanks.
MAN Excellent choice. WOMAN Yeah?
MAN: Now, you know what you should try with that?
Just a little virgin olive oil,
and just slowly dip in bread.
MAN: No, try this one. Another one of Deb's recipes.
Pork pie and guacamole.
Ow!
I'm so, so sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I'm sorry.
WIFE: Have you done your homework?
Oh...
Mrs. Goldfarb,
are you trying to seduce me?
Come here, you naughty little boy.
Come on. Over.
- What are you? - Naughty.
A naughty little boy. Say it.
- Naughty. - Naughty little boy.
MAN: Ah! Not that hard. Ow! Stop it.
Fucking hell.
Two men fall through the chimney. One is dirty, one is clean.
Which one needs to take a bath?
You need to take a bath.
And stop sneaking around like some perv.
Why don't you just tell her?
How can you take that dude seriously
when he stopped getting laid when he was 32?
Sex isn't everything.
It is in Africa.
You're a sick man.
Thank you. Finally.
I traveled seven seas to hear this, you know?
And you traveled nowhere and you're lost.
Just don't get everyone lost with you.
By appointment only.
- I'm here to speak to Miss Juliette. - That's also by appointment.
Do you beat her?
Only if she pays me.
Look at you, you piece of scum.
Know how lucky you are to have a girl like this?
You should bloody well treat her better. With izat. You know, respect.
Is that right, randy Gandhi?
You bloody foreigner, don't you talk to me like that.
JULIETTE: Sardeep?
Hello.
Juliette.
He's all right. Let him in.
How are you? You okay?
- Fine, thank you. - Good.
Please forgive me for saying those horrible, horrible things to you.
You're a very nice girl, Juliette, and I really want to make it up to you.
Well, bloody open it.
"Dear Miss Honan.
Thank you for your interest in the Peace Corps.
Your application has been accepted,
and we are delighted to offer you a post in Nairobi
working as part of the health-care program
that focuses on children orphaned by AIDS."
Oh, my god, Sardeep.
- I don't understand. I didn't... - I did.
And I hope you don't mind I forged your bloody signature.
And you're going to need one of these.
Oh, thank you.
- How much do I owe you? - Oh, nothing, nothing.
My charity can was heavier than yours.
Oh, my... Thank you so much.
Oh, Juliette.
I so wish I was coming with you.
It's going to be wonderful with all those black, African,
undernourished, skinny, skinny, rickety children.
Oh, Juliette, you're such a wonderful girl.
- Oh, look what dragged in the cat. - All right, Russki. Is the schoolgirl in?
Yeah, yeah, she is in her room skinning foxes.
Making you a nice new Russian hat, is she?
Everyone east of Berlin is making fur Russian hats for KGB...
Oh, excuse me. Am I interrupting something?
No, no, that's all right.
This is for Holly. She forgot her tips last night.
I am her manager.
Yes, my little slut.
I heard that, man-whore.
Envelopes, envelopes. Everybody's getting envelopes.
Where the fuck is my envelope?
They're just in.
A.K.: Only when you eat a lemon do you appreciate what sugar is.
Life is a paradox,
but is it, really?
Is the contradictions within and around us really a form of dissonance,
or just another word for "accord" in a language we are yet to discover.
A language we're yet to learn. A language we have been deprived of.
We live in a mistaken world, and it doesn't have to be so.
You can be an academic and come to this realization by reading books,
or you can discover this new rebel intelligence
by waking up in your own vomit.
Either way, you cannot lose.
Without filth, there can be no wisdom.
Without darkness, no light.
In my country we have a saying:
If the devil is powerless, send him a woman.
Oh, I forgot.
This came for you in the post yesterday.
And then, I get my envelope.
Yeah, yeah, who the fuck am I?
But this song, the next song is dedicated to a dead poet.
Oh, you know it's easy for a soul-searcher to leave his hometown,
where the folks bang their head and figure much,
men like Kierkegaard and Nietzsche.
All these poor bastards that never even get laid are taken seriously.
Like, what the fuck can you learn from them?
Like, where is the true artistic gurus?
Well, I prefer madmen, like this bum on the street.
?I met the other day ?
Who says, "That's so, like, battles of the rose. "
Well, some of them are from the east.
?And some of them are from the west ?
?Just need to charge one another ?
?And stick it closer to the center ?
?Where some kind of Mystical cross-pollination ?
?Going on ?
?Creating something out of nothing ?
?Like works of art or the religion ?
?Straight out of nothing ?
?My strange uncles from abroad ?
?Yes, I never met them, ooh I took everything they wrote ?
?And I'll never forget them, ooh ?
?Through the mystical communication ?
?Deep within it all comes through ?
?Forming underground railroad For our ultimate breakthrough ?
?My strange nephews from beyond ?
?I'll meet them on a cosmos street ?
?And we will drink To how we never told you ?
?Don't trust a plastic beat ?
?Through the mystical communication ?
?Deep within it all comes through ?
?Forming underground railroad ?
?For our ultimate breakthrough ?
?A.K. Bright open eyes ?
?They are still looking They are still finding ?
?A few unpoisoned hearts ?
?No matter where you are exiled ?
?No matter where you are exiled! ?
Straight out of nothing.
You see, my friend, feeling good is just as contagious as feeling bad.
Two sides of a same coin.
The lesson.
So if your ship comes in, ohuenno.
Let's get as many people onboard as possible.
We're all in the same pizdetz boat here, and if it sinks,
we're all going down together.
Extra maximum, double radical respect straight out of Ukraine
to my new neighbor who jam, rewind.
When I die?
When I die.
I don't know, but when I die...
Uh...
- Straight to fucking hell, man. MAN: And action.