Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

We caught up with Frankie.

I know why you lied for her.

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

I'm so excited.

I let him believe it.

- Okay. Thanks. - Hey.

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

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

- Fine. - We know who the shooter is?

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

How long does this take?

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

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

Get on your knees.

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

Let me see you represent Let me see you represent

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

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

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

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

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

Because hookers and bangers are gonna be your only family.

Hey. Clear this place out.

Well, there ain't gonna be much.

I hit a goddamn tree.

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

Tell them the truth.

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

How do we do that?

What about his affiliations?

Can you give us a minute, friend?

Get out of here, Juice. No more questions.

Miles caught me doing it.

I thought I'd be okay to drive.

We don't know anything yet.

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