On the hottest day of the year on a street in the Bedford-Stuyvesant section of Brooklyn, everyone's hate and bigotry smolders and builds until it explodes into violence.
Mookie: Dago, wop, guinea, garlic-breath, pizza-slingin', spaghetti-bendin', Vic Damone, Perry Como, Luciano Pavarotti, Sole Mio, nonsingin' motherfucker. Pino: You gold-teeth-gold-chain-wearin', fried-chicken-and-biscuit-eatin', monkey, ape, baboon, big thigh, fast-runnin', high-jumpin', spear-chuckin', three-hundred-sixty-degree-basketball-dunkin' titsun spade Moulan Yan. Take your fuckin' pizza-pizza and go the fuck back to Africa. Stevie: You little slanty-eyed, me-no-speaky-American, own-every-fruit-and-vegetable-stand-in-New-York, bullshit, Reverend Sun Myung Moon, Summer Olympics '88, Korean kick-boxing son of a bitch. Officer Long: You Goya bean-eating, fifteen in a car, thirty in an apartment, pointed shoes, red-wearing, Menudo, mire-mire Puerto Rican cocksucker. Yeah, you! Sonny: It's cheap, I got a good price for you, Mayor Koch, "How I'm doing," chocolate-egg-cream-drinking, bagel-and-lox, B'nai B'rith Jew asshole. Mister Senor Love Daddy: Yo! Hold up! Time out! TIME OUT! Y'all take a chill! Ya need to cool that shit out! And that's the double truth, Ruth!
Radio Raheem: Let me tell you the story of Right Hand, Left Hand. It's a tale of good and evil. Hate: it was with this hand that Cane iced his brother. Love: these five fingers, they go straight to the soul of man. The right hand: the hand of love. The story of life is this: static. One hand is always fighting the other hand, and the left hand is kicking much ass. I mean, it looks like the right hand, Love, is finished. But hold on, stop the presses, the right hand is coming back. Yeah, he got the left hand on the ropes, now, that's right. Ooh, it's a devastating right and Hate is hurt, he's down. Left-Hand Hate KOed by Love.
Da Mayor: Doctor... Mookie: C'mon, what. What? Da Mayor: Always do the right thing. Mookie: That's it? Da Mayor: That's it. Mookie: I got it, I'm gone.
Mister Senor Love Daddy: WE LOVE ROLL CALL, Y'ALL! Boogie Down Productions, Rob Base, Dana Dane, Marley Marl, Olatunji, Chuck D, Ray Charles, EPMD, EU, Alberta Hunter, Run-D.M.C., Stetsasonic, Sugar Bear, John Coltrane, Big Daddy Kane, Salt-n-Pepa, Luther Vandross, McCoy Tyner, Biz Markie, New Edition, Otis Redding, Anita Baker, Thelonious Monk, Marcus Miller, Branford Marsalis, James Brown, Wayne Shorter, Tracy Chapman, Miles Davis, Force MDs, Oliver Nelson, Fred Wesley, Maceo, Janet Jackson, Louis Armstrong, Duke Ellington, Jimmy Jam, Terry Lewis, George Clinton, Count Basie, Mtume, Stevie Wonder, Bobby McFerrin, Dexter Gordon, Sam Cooke, Parliament-Funkadelic, Al Jarreau, Teddy Pendergrass, Joe Williams, Wynton Marsalis, Phyllis Hyman, Sade, Sarah Vaughn, Roland Kirk, Keith Sweat, Kool Moe Dee, Prince, Ella Fitzgerald, Dianne Reeves, Aretha Franklin, Bob Marley, Bessie Smith, Whitney Houston, Dionne Warwick, Steel Pulse, Little Richard, Mahalia Jackson, Jackie Wilson, Cannonball AND Nat Adderley, Quincy Jones Marvin Gaye, Charles Mingus AND Marion Williams. We wanna thank you all for makin' our lives just a little brighter here on We Love Radio!
Buggin' Out: You almost knocked me down, man. the word is "excuse me." Clifton: Ah, excuse me, I'm sorry. Buggin' Out: Not only did ya knock me down, you stepped on my brand-new white Air Jordan's I just bought, and that's all you can say is "excuse me"? Clifton: What, are you serious? Buggin' Out: Yeah, I'm serious, I'll fuck you up quick two times. Punchy: Two times. Buggin' Out: Who told you to step on my sneakers, who told you to walk on my side of the block, who told you to be in my neighborhood? Clifton: I own this brownstone. Buggin' Out: Who told you to buy a brownstone on my block, in my neighborhood, on my side of the street? Yo, what you wanna live in a Black neighborhood for, anyway? Man, motherfuck gentrification.
Buggin' Out: You the man. Mookie: No you the man. Buggin' Out: You the man. Mookie: No you the man. Buggin' Out: No. I'm just a struggling Black man trying to keep my dick hard in a cruel and harsh world.
Buggin' Out: Yo, Sal, we're gonna boycott your fat pasta ass. Sal: You're gonna boycott me? You haven't got the *balls* to boycott me. Here, here's your boycott, up your ass. You've got a boycott.
Sweet Dick Willie: You wanna boycott someone? You ought to start with the goddamn barber that fucked up your head.
Mister Senor Love Daddy: Today's temperature's gonna rise up over 100 degrees, so there's a Jheri curl alert! That's right, Jheri curl alert. If you have a Jheri curl, stay in the house or you'll end up with a permanent black helmet on your head fuh-eva!
Radio Raheem: Give me 20 D Energizers. Sonny: 20 C Energizers? Radio Raheem: Not C, D. Sonny: C Energizers? Radio Raheem: D, motherfucker, D. Learn to speak English first, all right? Kim: How many you say? Radio Raheem: 20, motherfucker, 20. Sonny: Motherfuck you. Radio Raheem: Motherfuck you? You, you all right, man.
Sal: The fuck is wrong with you? This ain't about money. I could give a fuck about money. You see this fucking place? I built this fucking place with my bare fucking hands. Every light socket, every piece of tile - me, with these fucking hands.
Da Mayor: Doctor, those that'll tell don't know, and those that know won't tell
Smiley: [angrily, after Raheem is killed by police] One of the police was Black.
Mother Sister: Good morning. Da Mayor: Is it a good morning? Mother Sister: Yes, indeed. You almost got yourself killed last night. Da Mayor: I've done that before. Where did you sleep? Mother Sister: I didn't. Da Mayor: Hope the block is still standing. Mother Sister: We're still standing.
Radio Raheem: Put some extra mozzarella on that motherfucker and shit.
Mookie: Pino, fuck you, fuck your fuckin' pizza, and fuck Frank Sinatra. Pino: Yeah? Well fuck you, too, and fuck Michael Jackson.
Buggin' Out: Hey, Sal, how come they ain't no brothas on the wall?
Sweet Dick Willie: It ain't never too hot or never too cold for fuckin'!
Tina: Trust you? The last time I trusted you, Mookie, I ended up with a son.
[while mourning Radio Raheem, who just got choked to death by the cops] Coconut Sid: It ain't safe in our own fucking neighborhood! Never was. Never will be. Sweet Dick Willie: We ain't gonna stand for this shit no more, Sal. Ain't gonna stand for no fucking police, punk! ML: It's as plain as day. They didn't have to kill the boy.
Radio Raheem: Two Slices. Sal: NO service till you turn that shit off! Radio Raheem: Two slices. Pino: Turn it off! Sal: Listen Radio Raheem, I can't even hear myself think! You are disturbing me! You are disturbing my customers.
Mother Sister: Hey, you old drunk, what did I tell you about drinking in front of my stoop? Move on; you're blocking my view. You are ugly enough; don't stare at me. The evil eye doesn't work on me. Da Mayor: Mother Sister, you've been talkin' about me for 18 years. What have I ever done to you? Mother Sister: You a drunk fool. Da Mayor: Besides that? Da Mayor don't bother nobody and nobody no bother da Mayor but you. The Man just tends to his own business. I love everybody; I even love you. Mother Sister: Hold your tongue: you don't have that much love. Da Mayor: One day you're gonna be nice to me. We may both be dead and buried, but you're gonna be nice - at least civil.
[first lines] Mister Senor Love Daddy: Wake up! Wake up! Up you wake!
Buggin' Out: Why don't you go back to Massachusetts? Clifton: I was born in Brooklyn!
Coconut Sid: Look at those Korean motherfuckers across the street. I betcha they haven't been a year off da motherfucking boat before they opened up their own place. Coconut Sid: It's been about a year. ML: A motherfucking year off the motherfucking boat and got a good business in our neighborhood occupying a building that had been boarded up for longer than I care to remember and I've been here a long time. Sweet Dick Willie: It has been a long time. Coconut Sid: How long? ML: Too long! Too long. Now for the life of me, I haven't been able to figger this out. Either dem Koreans are geniuses or we Blacks are dumb.
Mister Senor Love Daddy: My people, my people, what can I say; say what I can. I saw it but didn't believe it; I didn't believe what I saw. Are we gonna live together? Together are we gonna live?
ML: Well, gentlemen, the way I see it, if this hot weather continues, it's going to melt the polar caps and the whole wide world. And all the parts that ain't water already will surely be blooded. Coconut Sid: You're a simple motherfucker. Now where you read that shit, eh? Polar caps... ML: Don't worry about it. But when it happens, and I'm in my boat, and your black asses are drowning, don't call for me to throw you no rope, no lifesaver, or no nothing. Sweet Dick Willie: You fool! You're 30 cents away from having a quarter! Where the fuck you gon' get a boat?
Sal: Pino, get a broom and sweep out front. Pino: Vito, get a broom and sweep out front. Vito: Huh? Pino: Get a broom and sweep out front. Vito: What? Pino: GET A BROOM AND SWEEP OUT FRONT. Vito: See, Pop, it's just what I was telling ya. Every time you tell Pino what to do, he tells me to do what you told him what to do.
Smiley: [stuttering] This is Malcolm X. This is Martin Luther King.
Sal: Do your friends put money in your pocket, Pino? Food on your table, they pay your rent, a roof over your head? They're not your friends. If they were your friends they wouldn't laugh at you.
Sal: What'd I tell you about that noise? Buggin' Out: What'd I tell you about them pictures? Sal: What the fuck, are you deaf? Buggin' Out: No! Are you? Fuck you! We want some black people on that motherfucking Wall of Fame now! Mookie: We're trying to go fucking home! We've been here all fucking day, Buggin Out! Sal: Turn that jungle music off! We ain't in Africa! Buggin' Out: Why it got to be about jungle music? Why it got to be about Africa? It's about them fucking pictures! Sal: It's about turning that shit off and getting the fuck out of my place! Pino: Radio Raheem! Radio Raheem: Fuck you! Sal: And fuck you, too! Punchy: Kick some ass, Sal! Get in there, Pino! Radio Raheem: This is music. My music! Sal: Fuck your music! Radio Raheem: Well, turn it off, then. Vito: Hey, man, get the fuck out of here! We're fucking closed! Buggin' Out: Fuck you! We're closing you guinea bastards for good! For good, motherfucker! Until you get some black people on that motherfucking Wall of Fame! Sal: You're gonna fucking close me? [Sal grabs his bat] Buggin' Out: You're goddamn right! Sal: You black cocksucker! I'll fucking tear your fucking nigger ass! Punchy: Oh, we're niggers now? We niggers now! Buggin' Out: You fucking white trash! I'll fuck you up! Mookie: Sal, put the fucking bat down! Buggin' Out: Come on, man, you fucking guinea trash! Jump over the motherfucking counter! Sal: You black cocksucker! You nigger motherfucker! [Sal smashes Radio Raheem's radio several times]
Sweet Dick Willie: [Radio Raheem walks past blasting Public Enemy on his boombox] Goddamn! Turn that shit off; play some Bobby Blue Bland.
Mister Senor Love Daddy: Whoa. Y'all take a chill. You got to cool that shit off. And that's the double-truth, Ruth.
Sal: Hey. The only ass-kicking that's gonna be done around here is gonna be done by me.
Mister Senor Love Daddy: Yes, children, this is the cool-out corner. We're slowing it down for all the lovers in the house. I'll be giving you all the help you need. Musically, that is.
Pino: Take your pizza and get the fuck back to Africa.