I used to burn rubber at every light, mean mugging everything there was, cause that was my attitude.
You'll pay," she said stonily. "You won't be like this by this time tomorrow." "Bored and pissed off? God, I hope not.
I became a bit of a jerk. A kind of a nasty jerk.
You can call it what you want: bad attitude, immature. You can say, 'He's a thug.' But I'm a competitor.
I can’t answer either question. But the look she gives me reminds me of the look in the attack dog’s eyes in the aptitude test – a vicious, predatory stare. She wants to rip me to pieces. I can’t lie down in submission now. I have become an attack dog too.
I like New York, man - I ain't gonna front. The only thing I probably don't like about New York is that, coming from the South, people aren't hospitable. You tell somebody 'Hi,' and they look at you like you're out your freaking mind.
I have the kind of face that people want to punch.
If you're nasty, I won't fight. If you're rough, well that's just you. If you're mean, that's alright too. Whatever you are is all okay. I don't like you anyway.
I do not think I had ever seen a nastier-looking man. Under the black hat, when I had first seen them, the eyes had been those of an unsuccessful rapist.
