Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

I don't give a shit where you get it. I need two hundred grand or I kill Ope's whore.

I hit a goddamn tree.

- I get it, bro. A gig's a gig. - Yeah.

Everybody at that table's done something puts them outside the reaper.

Looking for the guy who tried to kill both of you.

Let me see you represent Let me see you represent

Jax and Tara are never gonna forgive me if they find out.

I'm so excited.

- Okay. Thanks. - Hey.

Couple of prison tats, Black Nation. That's it.

-Just a cut on the head. -Oh, my God.

I thought I'd be okay to drive.

So Frankie hires a black guy, makes it look like Pope.

I guess they couldn't make it. The feds.

Not until we can prove it. Until then, he can't know we're on to him.

Well, there ain't gonna be much.

- Fine. - We know who the shooter is?

Because hookers and bangers are gonna be your only family.

I know why you lied for her.

Hey. Clear this place out.

Can you give us a minute, friend?

How do we do that?

Get on your knees.

Hey, hey We put it down and break 'em off

We caught up with Frankie.

Get out of here, Juice. No more questions.

I let him believe it.

Miles caught me doing it.

Tell them the truth.

I don't know. They were probably trailing us from the clubhouse.

How long does this take?

No, he'll probably just let him out when he gets far enough away.

We don't know anything yet.

- Yeah. - Just take that gun out of her mouth.

-Oh, shit, man. The poor kid. -Yeah.

What about his affiliations?