Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Ladies and gentlemen, I am proud to announce

- My dick wants to laugh. - What is it?

Just like my father had told me that when the green grass starts growing

Champ and I have our little disagreements. Hell, my whole organization does.

- White. There, I've said it. White. - I'm glad you said it, Stu.

I can't let no white motherfucker call me brother. Besides, my brother is dead.

We came over because you hadn't answered our calls,

where you'll have to finally answer some of the tough questions. You're a bad guy, man.

Your daddy said...

- Good for you. - Oh, I felt that.

The Nevada Boxing and Gaming Commission is pleased to announce

- I didn't want it anyway. - You know you wanted it.

that this envelope contains enough evidence to destroy this man forever.

Champ has an entourage. He feeds 'em.

- Thanks. - How's everybody?

- to see no fucking King Lear! What's wrong? - My brother, I'm a man of peace.

And the fervor charts go off the wall when the challenger is...

You're... you're a great champ.

- There in South Africa, the... - South Africa, Julio? South Africa?

I was simply trying to say...

Hey, Bambi. Don't distract the champ with that.

From me. The other Mrs. Ned Ashton.

What are you doing? What are you hiding for?

You're woozy. You're woozy. Um...

I got you guys this job!

Like, are you happy with your deal with Sultan?

Mitchell, have you sold out?

We'll find out the answer tomorrow night.

As a matter of fact, we were just discussing the details.

And it's over. It is over. 27 seconds into the first round, it's all over.

You'll make $40 million.

- How much do I get? - $10 million.

All right, guys. I gave you instructions in the dressing room. Is there any questions?

- We weren't gonna pay Conklin. - That's what I'm saying.

What army is this? All right, all right. Enough. Not again. Not again.

I'll tell you, in the cynical age that we live in, it's, uh...

Two clubs to the knee on the clean cut white boy!

I still am quite a rock'n'roller. Thanks for that.

- Turn him loose and fight. - I've got him right where I want him.

Shut up, boy! You work for me.

Isaac Hayes said he want his head back. What's up?

I done got this.

- I love you. - This is bullshit, man. Stop saying that!

- That was pretty funny, huh? - I like you. You have a goal.

- You hear that? - That shit don't faze me.

Yes, but even I cannot rank a fighter who has never had a professional fight!

Huh, boy? Roper.

Listen, please. Listen.

Good. Cos I'm gonna call your ass the great white hope.

I heard they're gonna do Cops: The Musical. That could be unreal.

Roper looks at least 220. He's been eating chitlins.

Excuse me, Ms Bambi.

Got my vote for Sportsman of the Year already.

Terry! Terry! Terry!

Turked? What is turked?

My nerves is bad anyway. If I can get this motherfucker out...

I would like to sing my song, that I've just been working on, to Mr. Roper.

15 cents on the dollar?

Is that a circus entrance? A fighter coming in, or a clown?

Hey, check this out, G. Yo. This is a gift from Sultan.

Uh, excuse me, Fred. Uh, listen, we... Hi, Sol. Tough day for you, huh?

- Flattery is not gonna work. My course is... - Oh, no, no, no. I wanna offer you a job.

Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey. Just, you know... calm down, will you?

Hey, hey. Now... you know, if he wins, have you thought about...

Hey, Roper, you scared of me?

What about How about you