Found 1150 results
1m13s
Oh, no fuckin' shit she'll freak. That ain't no kinda answer. I mean, you know, I don't. How much? A lot or a little? You got to appreciate what an explosive element... this Bonnie situation is. She comes home from a hard day's work, finds a bunch of gangsters in her kitchen... doing a bunch of gangster shit, there ain't no tellin' what she's liable to do. [ All Gasping ] Yeah, I grasp that, Jules. All I'm doing is contemplating the ifs. I don't wanna hear about no motherfuckin' ifs! All I want to hear from your ass is, "You ain't got no problem, Jules. I'm on the motherfucker. Chill them niggers out and wait for the cavalry, which should be coming directly." You ain't got no problem, Jules. I'm on the motherfucker. Chill them niggers out and wait for the Wolf, who should be coming directly. You sendin' the Wolf? Oh, you feel better, motherfucker? Shit, yeah, negro! That's all you had to say! - [ Piano ] - [ Man ] She the hysterical type? - When is she due? - [ Partygoers Chattering ] Mm-hmm. Give me the principals' names again. [ Man ] Place your bets.
Pulp Fiction
34.8s
What the fuck'd I tell ya? Huh? As soon as the word got out the fix was in, man, the odds went through the roof. I know. I know. Unbelievable. Hey, fuck him, Scotty. If he was a better boxer, he'd still be alive. If he never laced up his gloves, which he never shoulda done in the first fuckin' place, he'd still be alive. [ Hawks, Spits ] Yeah, well, who gives a fuck? It's over now. Yeah, well, enough about the poor, unfortunate Mr. Floyd. Let's talk about the rich and prosperous Mr. Butch. How many bookies did you lay it around on? All eight? How long to collect?
Pulp Fiction