[bright tone]
[tense jazzy music]
♪ ♪
- Back in the 1950s,
there was a game show
on TV called
"You Bet Your Life,"
hosted by Groucho Marx.
Every week,
Groucho would ask
inane questions
and insult the contestants.
A fake duck would drop down
on a string,
and Groucho would go...
- Say the secret word,
and win $100.
- But not once did anyone
ever actually bet their life.
Unlike in Oz,
no one ever put their life
on the line.
- The attempted assassination
of Governor James Devlin
by a former employee of
the Oswald Correctional Facility
has sent a shock wave
through this election campaign
and the entire state.
Devlin, who is listed
in stable condition,
announced that he intends
to stay in the race
for reelection.
The suspect, Clayton Hughes--
[men cheer]
- ...At the Crown and Shield
Holding Center.
all: Clayton! Clayton!
Clayton! Clayton!
Clayton! Clayton! Clayton!
Clayton! Clayton!
all: k*ll Hughes! k*ll Hughes!
k*ll Hughes! k*ll Hughes!
k*ll Hughes! k*ll Hughes!
k*ll Hughes! k*ll Hughes!
k*ll Hughes!
k*ll Hughes! k*ll Hughes!
- Sean?
- Lockdown?
Lockdown!
Let's go.
Move your asses now!
[alarm buzzing]
Come on, guys.
Get inside.
Come on.
Let's go!
[buzzing continues]
Get in your cell.
Now.
- Clayton Hughes is
a close friend of our family's,
and though I find his actions
utterly reprehensible,
I feel compelled,
out of loyalty
to his mother and late father,
to stand by Clayton's side
at his hour of need.
I am therefore withdrawing
my name as a candidate
for the nomination
of lieutenant governor.
Thank you so much.
[crowd chattering]
[bell ringing]
- The n*gg*s playing again.
You two fucks
ain't selling enough tits.
- What the f*ck you mean,
we ain't selling enough tits?
You bugging.
- Who sells more than us?
- Desmond Mobay.
- f*ck that Jamaican f*ck.
- f*ck you, n*gga.
Y'all m*therf*ckers get pumping.
- Let's do this.
Hey, Mobay.
You gotta stop making us
look so bad, man.
You dig what I'm saying?
- I do what I'm told.
- Yeah, well, we's telling you
something different.
[chuckles]
[tense percussive tones]
♪ ♪
- I am not afraid of you.
Or you.
♪ ♪
- Hey! Hey!
Back! Back!
You have gotta learn
to control your emotions.
♪ ♪
Follow Officer Keating here.
- You sending me to the Hole?
- Not this time.
Detective McGorry
wants to interview you.
- I don't know no McGorry.
Who the f*ck is that?
- Homicide cop investigating
the Bruno Goergen m*rder.
- I don't know nothing
about Bruno Goergen, all right?
- Tell it to her.
- Punk-ass.
♪ ♪
- According to the files,
you and Leroy Tidd
had a little altercation
with Bruno Goergen in the gym.
- An alter-what?
- A fight.
- Oh.
We was just f*cking around.
- You b*at him to a pulp.
- Yeah, well,
sometimes, we get carried away.
He lived, though.
- Not for long.
- Look, I didn't push Goergen
down no elevator shaft.
- If you didn't, who did?
- The only one I know
grieving Goergen was Mobay.
- Desmond Mobay?
- Oh, yeah.
The two of them had some
weirdness going on between them.
♪ ♪
- I'm here.
- Sit down.
Found out some very
disturbing news today.
- Yeah, what's that?
- There's
an undercover narc in Oz.
- sh*t.
- His name is Brand.
Cecil Brand.
He's over in Unit B.
- And he's one
of your customers.
- What do we do?
- Whack... his... ass.
- Who?
- You.
I want you
to k*ll that f*cking cop.
[tense percussive tones]
- No problem.
- Go.
♪ ♪
- You know, for a minute,
I thought you was undercover.
I mean, but you can't be,
you know,
given the amount of sh*t
you were snorting,
given the amount
of sh*t you been selling.
It's crazy, I know.
But that night
you were so cranked up on tits
that your accent
suddenly disappeared--
I was like,
what the f*ck is that?
And then your girlfriend--
what's her name?
Kina?
I was positive
that I recognized her
from somewhere.
Tore my brain out
trying to remember,
trying to remember where.
Then I had a flash.
No!
No!
When they threw me
off the roof...
[yells]
I was laying
on the cold pavement...
[tense jazzy music]
And this woman police came over
to see if I was still alive.
[distant sirens wailing]
That woman police...
She's a dead ringer
for your Kina.
[gate buzzes]
- Lights out!
[tense percussive tones]
♪ ♪
Well, good night, Mobay...
or Officer
Whoever-the-f*ck-You-Are.
Ah! Hey!
- You talk that sh*t to anyone,
you're next down
the elevator shaft.
- All right.
Break it up in there.
- I'm telling nobody nothing.
I'm telling nobody
that you're a cop,
a cop who breaks the law
all in the name of the law.
I just want you to know
that I know you're a fraud.
And I don't mean
that you're undercover.
I mean as a person.
You're a fraud.
[grunting]
[discordant jazzy music]
♪ ♪
[alarm buzzing]
♪ ♪
- He's still alive.
Get a doctor up here!
- I m*rder*d Bruno Goergen.
- What?
- I committed a crime.
I should be punished.
- Why are you confessing?
- Because I took an oath.
Because I'm not a fraud.
Because I don't want
to be one of them.
[tense percussive tones]
♪ ♪
- The arrest of Detective Basil
for the m*rder of Bruno Goergen
has obviously put an end
to the undercover
narcotics operation...
at least for the time being.
- With all due respect, Warden,
I think you're gonna
have to accept the fact
that the w*r on dr*gs
is unwinnable.
- You know, that's not true.
We have to be diligent.
We have to keep fighting.
We can't just give up
on education.
We have to rehabilitate.
- I'm not saying
you're not gonna get lucky
with a slug or two,
but if you think
you're gonna eradicate
heroin from Oz,
well, that's just plain stupid.
- Who you calling stupid?
- Hey, if the shoe fits--
- f*ck you!
- All right, enough!
- p*ssy.
- Come on!
- Stop it!
Stop it!
Stop it!
What the f*ck is happening here?
- Pete...
- I am sick to death
of sitting in on these meetings
and listening to you people
with your petty little egos.
The walls are crumbling
down around us,
and all you care about
are yourselves!
Well...
- Go after her.
[Sister Pete sobbing]
- Pete?
- No.
- Shh.
I want to talk.
- No, no.
I'll be fine, Ray.
No, really.
I'll be fine.
- I don't get cravings anymore.
- That's horseshit.
- What are you doing here?
- I'm an addict.
I'm getting yearnings.
I may start again.
I need your help.
- I don't want you in this room.
- Sister... you can't refuse me.
- Oh, yes.
Yes, I can.
Take him back, please.
[tense percussive tones]
♪ ♪
So, Augustus, you were
about to make... some point?
- Oh, yeah.
[gate buzzes]
- Hi!
- Hi!
Oh!
- I was gonna come up
to the office and see you,
but I thought, no.
- Listen, I'm surprised
you got this far.
- Mm.
- How you doing?
- Oh, small increments,
but better, you know?
- Yeah.
- You?
- Ah, I'm in a mood.
Today,
I got the documents to sign.
- Documents?
- To stop being a nun.
- So this lunch we're having
is a celebration?
- I don't know.
I still haven't made up my mind.
When you join a religious order,
you know,
you become a bride of Christ.
It's hard to accept that, uh,
when I put my signature
on those documents...
Christ and I are divorced.
- Oh!
f*ck me, you piece of sh*t.
[tense percussive tones]
[both moaning]
Oh, f*ck!
♪ ♪
- [groans]
Okay,
what's the matter now, Cyril?
- You and that woman.
- What woman?
- Officer Howell.
- What about her?
- You and she are bad.
- Huh?
- Come on, tell.
- Tell?
What?
There's...
there's nothing to tell.
- Wink, wink.
I'm gonna tell.
- Shut up, Cyril.
- f*ck you.
- You shut up or I'll sm--
- What?
You're going to what?
I can take you.
I can b*at you up.
- Jesus f*cking Christ, man.
f*cking place!
- Here it is.
I sign that document...
I stop being a nun.
- Are you gonna sign it?
- Yes.
Want to watch?
- No, thanks.
[knocking on door]
- Sister.
Hey.
I really need to talk to you.
- I was just leaving.
- No, Father, please stay.
I appreciate your input.
- What's up?
- It's my brother.
He seems to be okay
after the OD,
but he's having
these terrible nightmares again,
so he only gets
but a few hours of sleep,
and I'm beginning to think
that the...
What'd you call it?
- Deprivation?
- Yeah, that.
That that sh*t's just starting
to affect his brain.
- Why, what's he doing?
- Oh, he's becoming aggressive.
He's making things up
and claiming to see things
that just aren't there.
- Really?
- Yeah.
I was wondering if maybe
you could put him back
on some kind of medication,
you know,
something to knock him out,
just for a little while
until he gets some sleep?
- Uh... all right.
I'll-I'll meet with Cyril,
and then I'll decide
what's best for him.
- Okay.
You got to remember this...
the stuff he's saying...
man, it's crazy.
- And the nightmares
are always the same?
- Pretty much.
- Is there anything
in your dreams
that you see when you're awake?
- No.
- Cyril, do you remember
anything before your accident?
- Before I got hit in the head?
- Yeah.
- My mother's hands.
They were rough,
all red from working...
but soft when she touched me.
- Anything else?
- The cross.
Like that.
Around her neck.
She'd pray to Jesus.
- Do you believe in Jesus?
- That's a silly question.
- Why?
- 'Cause it's not up to me,
believing or not believing.
We don't choose God.
God chooses us.
- Cyril, do you mind if I talk
to your brother for a minute?
- Sure.
- So?
- I don't see any
of the symptoms you described.
In fact, quite the opposite.
- He's always on his best
behavior with you, Sister,
but I swear to God,
the kid's--
- Ryan, don't swear.
What is true
is that he's exhausted,
so we need to try
to find a medication
other than the Haldol
to help him sleep.
- Good, thank you.
- I'll have Dr. Prestopnik
write up a prescription.
[tense percussive tones]
♪ ♪
Hello, Chris.
- Sister.
- Stay where you are.
As you know,
for the past month or so,
I've been preparing
to leave the convent.
- Mm-hmm.
- Part of that stems
from the conversations
we had together.
You made me doubt myself
as a psychologist,
as a nun,
as a woman.
- I'm sorry
if I caused you grief.
- Oh, you caused me grief,
and I want to thank you for it.
- What?
- You know, Chris, most of us
tumble into our lives.
We become who we are
almost by accident.
We try very hard
not to look backwards,
afraid to find out that...
maybe we should have done
something else,
but you forced me
to look backwards,
to question
every element of my identity.
By questioning, do you know--
do you know what I discovered?
I am a psychologist.
I am a woman.
I am a nun.
And all of these parts of me
are not an accident.
They were put together
by someone else,
someone far greater.
We do not choose God.
God chooses us.
- What happens to those of us
who he don't choose?
Like in grade school--
you're waiting
for one side or the other
to pick you
to play... kickball.
But you're too small,
you're too stupid,
or maybe you're just too weird.
All bullshit aside, Sister...
I want God to pick me.
Pick me?
[tense jazzy music]
- Maybe he will.
There's still time.
- You know something, Sister?
I don't think so.
[tense percussive tones]
♪ ♪
- [groaning]
Oh, f*ck!
We gotta stop.
- What?
- This.
- Why?
- People are talking.
- f*ck 'em.
- No, you'll get fired.
- What is this, O'Reily?
I'm sucking your d*ck so much
you're losing your balls?
- No, I just thought
that maybe--
- This ain't over
till I say it's over.
You start thinking different,
I'll crush these balls of yours.
You got that, punk?
Good.
Same time tomorrow.
Cunnilingus.
Let's go.
- There's nothing like
the thrill of gambling.
Nothing compares
to that incredible feeling
of anticipation.
You wait breathlessly
for the roll of the dice,
for the spin of the wheel,
for the flip of the card.
You wait to see what fortune
fate will hand you.
- Bob!
Bob, you're alive!
- Apparently so.
- Busmalis, get to work.
- What did the doctor say?
Did the surgery go well?
Was the tumor benign?
- Yes, I'll survive, only...
- What?
- I have
this terrible scar on my head.
They tell me in time
it'll go away, but even so,
I'm embarrassed
to be seen like this.
- Bob, you're so vain.
- Don't get insulting.
- No, vain is good.
When you got out of the Hole,
you were kind of dragging,
but vain means
you still feel alive.
- Stop talking nonsense.
- Scar's hardly noticeable.
- Bullshit!
This is your lucky hat.
- I'm lucky.
I'm glad you're still breathing.
[tense percussive tones]
♪ ♪
- Miss Sally
is really coming to Oz?
- When she heard after my escape
that I went to her house,
that I'm her number one fan,
my goddess decided
she wanted to meet me.
- Miss Sally in Oz.
Next,
we'll have Seinfeld in here.
- How do I look?
- Truth?
- No.
Lie.
- You're very handsome.
- Thank you.
- Where'd you get the flowers?
- That's a secret.
Wish me luck.
- Oh, you're gonna need
more than luck.
- Miss Sally?
- Yes.
- How do you do?
These are for you.
- Thank you.
They're lovely.
- It is a great thrill
to meet you, Miss Sally.
When I got word
that you were dropping by,
it knocked me for a loop.
I am the envy
of every cell block.
- That's very sweet.
I brought you something.
- Oh, my God.
There are guys in here
that would k*ll for this...
Literally.
- [giggles]
- Miss Sally,
I gotta tell you...
You don't laugh
like you do on TV.
And while we're on the subject,
you don't look the same
as on TV.
You seem smaller.
- The camera adds 10 pounds.
- To your breasts?
- f*ck.
- Miss Sally, you swore.
What about yesterday's lesson?
Watch your tongue?
- I'm not Miss Sally.
I work as a secretary
at the station.
I'm in charge
of answering all the letters
that Miss Sally receives.
When I heard about you escaping,
I remembered
getting your letters.
I thought they were so sweet.
I went to Miss Sally
and asked her to visit here...
- And she said no?
- She got angry.
She threw Nooter at me.
- Oh.
- So I thought, hell,
I look enough like the bitch.
Maybe I'll pull it off.
But I failed.
- No.
No, this means a lot,
that you read my letters,
that you wanted to come.
What's your name?
- Norma Clark.
- Thank you, Norma.
- You're welcome, Agamemnon.
- And if you don't mind,
I'd like to keep writing.
- Of course.
- But this time,
I'll write to you.
- That'd be swell.
- Everybody gambles.
From a card shark
in Atlantic City
to an old lady
scratching at a lottery ticket,
taking a chance, risking it all,
that's as basic
a human need as...
food, clothing, shelter.
It's as fundamental
to our genetic makeup
as k*lling thy neighbor.
[scraping]
- Deyell, what the f*ck
are you doing over there?
- I'm digging an escape hatch.
- Dumb-ass n*gro.
- f*cking cum sack.
[tense percussive tones]
- Miles, hello.
- No, no, no,
no, no, no, no.
- Miles.
- No! No, no, no, no.
- Your execution is set
for two weeks from Thursday.
Now, there are certain matters
we have to discuss.
The most important being
how you're gonna die.
- No!
No, no!
No, no, no!
- If you don't
make up your mind soon,
I'll be forced
to decide for you.
- No, no, no!
- Take him down to Psych.
- No, no, no, no!
- [laughing]
- Get up, Rembrandt.
Give me a--
- Slam his ass!
[man yelling]
- Wait a minute.
I can't talk to him
all chained up like this.
- Believe me, Sister,
you don't want him
running loose.
- All right.
Wait outside.
- No way.
- Wait... outside.
Come in.
Mark...
The warden thought
it would be a good idea
for us to get together.
He says you're having problems
accepting the fact
that the date of your...
execution is approaching.
- Problems?
I'm scared shitless.
I seen Shirley Bellinger go
and that f*g Ginzburg die
right there in the cell.
It gets you thinking.
- Look, I am not a fan
of capital punishment,
and there are a lot of
others like me who are
doing everything
they can to stop it,
but that's not going to happen
before two weeks from Thursday.
- Oh, Christ.
- Mark, you made a choice
to m*rder your family,
and as a result,
you don't have a choice
about staying alive.
So what you need...
and what I want
to help you do...
is to prepare for the end.
[tense percussive tones]
♪ ♪
- I know
what you're going through, man.
Sometimes, the reality
of what's gonna happen
fucks me up, too.
- I don't need
your f*cking sympathy, sambo.
- You don't quit, do you?
- I'm trying to work here,
so shut
your f*cking jive-ass mouth.
- ♪ Amazing grace ♪
- Shut up.
- ♪ How sweet the sound ♪
- I said shut up,
you f*cking black bastard!
[grunting]
Oh, f*ck.
[tense jazzy music]
♪ ♪
- Holy sh*t!
♪ ♪
- Oy.
- Yo, Lopresti.
Can I get that mirror?
It was Shirley's.
- Oh, gee.
Seven years' bad luck.
Lights out!
[gate buzzes]
[tense jazzy music]
♪ ♪
[tense percussive tones]
- f*ck.
- Step aside, Vern.
Let a real man at the table.
- Schillinger.
- Schilling-er.
- Whatever, you got a visitor.
- Yeah, well,
I'm not expecting anyone.
- She says
she's your daughter-in-law.
- My--
What?
[gate buzzing]
- Mr. Schillinger?
- Yeah?
- [sighs]
I'm Carrie.
Hank's wife.
- Look, honey,
I don't know what kind of scam
you're trying to pull--
- He didn't tell you
he was married?
- No.
- Oh, God.
- Are you okay?
- She's fine.
Mind your own f*cking business.
- I'm sorry.
I'm just so afraid.
Hank and me met.
We had sex right off
and started hanging out
all the time together,
and then, a few weeks ago,
he came into some money
all of a sudden.
He says, "Let's get hitched."
So I say, "Okay."
But now he's gone.
He's disappeared off the planet,
and I don't know
what I'm gonna do.
- You got any kind of proof
you two are married?
- Our wedding certificate.
We done it at city hall.
- Why the f*ck
didn't he tell me?
- That's Hank.
Mr. Secretive.
- I know where he is.
He went to Miami.
I gave him money for the trip.
- Miami?
When is he due back?
- I don't know.
- Sooner than later?
'Cause it's gotta be sooner.
See, I got a situation.
I need his help.
- What kind of situation?
Maybe I can help.
- I'm pregnant.
- What the f*ck is this, man?
- I ain't trying to hear you.
- The f*ck is you saying?
- I'm saying
get up out my face!
- Trust me...
I don't want to be peeping
your ugly f*cking mug
any more than I have to, okay?
- Hey, what's the problem?
- This f*cking child
won't be talked to.
- n*gga, f*ck you.
- Mondo here--
- I ain't one
of your dawgs, man.
I ain't one
of your prags either.
What I am is sick and tired
of all your bullshit.
- Kids today.
- We got to do something
to shut his ass down.
- Yeah, relax, relax.
Listen.
Got some ideas
I want to talk to you about.
[gate buzzing]
- Ah, trouble in paradise.
- Yeah, but not enough
to be of any use to us.
You know what
we got here, O'Reily?
- Hmm?
- A fandango.
And we gotta do
something about it.
- Hey, I don't like
being in the minority,
but what can we do?
Even these f*cking Muslims
are kowtowing to Adebisi.
- Well, we could detonate
a few well-placed depth charges.
- Whatever you need, K-boy.
[tense percussive tones]
♪ ♪
♪ ♪
- Oh, my God.
Help.
Help!
Help!
m*rder!
m*rder!
m*rder!
[alarm buzzing]
- Like my day wasn't
already in the toilet.
♪ ♪
Do you know what
we've got down there?
A dead f*cking body.
Do you know what that means?
My record of no v*olence
is kaput.
You know what that means?
You are up to
your African ass in sh*t.
- This is not my fault.
- Oh, yes, it is.
We had a deal.
I would let you do
whatever the f*ck you wanted
as long as you kept
the horseshit to zero.
A corpse is not zero.
- So what do you want me to do?
- I want you to find me
the bastard that did this
and bring me his ass.
Alive.
- You want me to play cop?
- Life sucks all around.
[tense percussive tones]
♪ ♪
- Anything?
- The dead guy, Shemin,
he was a complete f*cking loser.
He ain't had no friends,
and as far as we know,
he ain't even have no enemies.
- Found out one thing.
Him and Tobias Beecher f*cked.
- Yup.
- Beecher?
- Mm-hmm.
- Bring him to me.
- I didn't k*ll Shemin.
- I heard about
you f*cked him, though.
- [scoffs]
Once.
He was lousy.
So were you, Mondo.
[men speaking indistinctly]
♪ ♪
- The f*ck are you doing?
- I'm looking
for the m*rder w*apon.
Adebisi says that if I don't
find out who k*lled Shemin,
they're gonna b*at
the sh*t out of me.
- Get the f*ck off
my stuff, man.
- I saw you
go into the laundry room
with Shemin.
I saw you come out alone.
- That don't mean d*ck.
- Why did you do it?
Why did you k*ll him?
- See this tat?
I got it the night
of my second marriage in Vegas.
I'd just run this great Ponzi
on some elderly couple.
So, you know, I'm celebrating.
Some single malt, a little X,
and a whole lot of Bonnie.
And as we f*cked,
I kept yelling,
"I'm a god. I'm a f*cking god!"
I am f*cking tripping
out of my mind.
I go to this all-night
tattoo parlor
because I wanted every slob
on the strip to know...
I was almighty.
But I'm not.
See, I know that now,
Beecher, but this tattoo,
it ain't going away,
not without a lot more blood.
- And I am supposed to glean
what from that story?
- Well...
I see you f*cking
all these other guys, you know.
- You said
you didn't care who I f*cked.
- I do.
I do, okay?
- And you k*lled Shemin
'cause he and I f*cked?
- Ooh, I don't...
[groans]
- I'm gonna tell Adebisi
what I know.
- Oh, I don't think you will.
- Why not?
- Well, for two reasons.
One, I know you hired Pancamo
to put a hit out
on Hank Schillinger.
- No way.
- Oh, yeah.
And Hank's dead,
and Vern doesn't know it, but...
That's only because
Pancamo makes sure
no one's gonna find the body.
Let's say they do,
you know, find the body.
Schillinger's gonna
come back after you,
and he's gonna destroy
the rest of your family.
He will m*rder Holly.
- f*ck you.
- The second reason is...
You tell him I k*lled Shemin,
they will k*ll me, but...
I think you love me too much
to see that happen.
Hey, Mondo.
How's it hanging, baby?
How is Brown in bed?
- Chris, don't.
- You should take care
of where you stick your d*ck.
That baby is lethal.
- You know, I liked it better
when we weren't speaking.
- Winning and losing--
the two sides
of the same silver dollar.
But winning isn't
always a good thing.
Think on it.
You suddenly come
into a lot of cash.
You start worrying
about how to spend it,
how to save it, invest it.
You buy all this stuff
you don't really need,
and you get weighed
the f*ck down.
Losing, on the other hand,
has a kind of purifying effect.
When you got nothing,
when you're stripped
of all the doodads in life,
you're free.
- Supreme Allah.
What is up with Mondo Brown?
I mean,
that boy's nothing but trouble.
Just a deluxe pain in the ass.
[tense percussive tones]
♪ ♪
- You take care
of the other thing?
- Yeah, I made your phone call.
Delivery truck's
gonna get a flat tire.
- Sweet.
[bell rings]
[zapping sound]
[zapping sound]
- Brown, get in line!
- I'm waiting on a shipment.
The m*therf*cking truck
caught a flat.
If we miss
that shipment tomorrow,
we don't have no breakfast.
- I'll be back for you later.
Everybody else, let's go!
[gate buzzing]
- Looking for these?
- Keller, what the f*ck
are you doing here?
- You and me,
we got personal business to do.
- I ain't got
no business with you.
- How'd you like a blow job?
- Sure.
- Brown is dead.
- Bullshit.
- m*rder*d in the cafeteria.
- Hey, that's not Em City.
- He's still one of ours,
Adebisi.
Glynn is pissed off royal.
Everything we've built
is on the verge of collapsing.
- We found this at the scene.
- Do you know
who the necklace belongs to?
- Yes.
[tense percussive tones]
♪ ♪
- Come on.
- What's up, man?
- Come on!
- What's up?
- Ay, yo...
[men shouting indistinctly]
♪ ♪
- You k*lled Shemin.
- What the f*ck
am I gonna k*ll Shemin for?
He was nothing.
- You k*lled Brown.
- See?
- Now,
that sh*t must've fell off
when I was working
in the kitchen.
- Yeah?
You cocksucker!
- f*ck you, bitch!
- Yeah, f*ck me?
f*ck you!
f*ck you!
f*ck you!
Bitch!
f*ck you!
f*cking k*ll you!
f*cking up my...
- f*ck you!
- Look what was under
Supreme's pillow.
- That f*cking sh*t ain't mine!
f*ck!
m*therf*cker,
this is some f*cking bullshit!
Get the f*ck off me!
This is f*cking bullshit!
Get the f*ck off me!
Get the f*ck off!
I didn't f*cking do that sh*t!
[shouting indistinctly]
- Let 'em out.
[doors hissing and whining]
[tense percussive tones]
♪ ♪
- Deaths of Shemin and Brown.
This is the hand of God.
- Maybe, but do their deaths
fit in with your plan
to bring Adebisi down?
- Oh, yes.
I'm getting close to Adebisi
to find that one flaw...
that'll finally cr*pple him.
- I hope it happens soon.
- Adebisi?
[upbeat hip-hop music]
♪ ♪
- Grind slowly.
I said slow!
Grind slow!
Do it slow like a woman.
- Wait here.
- Man, I got to admit,
I was struck stupid
when you joined forces
with Adebisi, man.
What he's up to--
Hold on.
[gate buzzing]
Man, given what you believe in,
man, it's tough to take
this conversion seriously.
- I swore to Allah.
- I think that swearing of yours
got something to do
with you trying to stop him.
- You always did have
a very vivid imagination.
- I'll tell you what else I got.
I got the knack
for picking winners and losers,
and you, you're gonna win.
Sure hope to sh*t you do.
- What's the matter, Poet?
You done with gangster life?
- Man, I ain't done with sh*t
except Adebisi
and f*cking videotapes.
- Videotapes?
- Yeah, he likes to record
his antics for posterity.
- You talking about the sex
and the dr*gs, right?
- Live from Party Central.
- These videotapes,
can you get ahold of them?
- He keeps them in his pod.
I mean...
I mean, I could try.
- Do it now.
[gate buzzing]
- Simon,
can I have a word, please?
- Yeah, go ahead.
- In private.
[tense percussive tones]
♪ ♪
- Gonna get all the young
brothers to go to class,
get an education.
Yeah, you like that, huh?
- Yeah, excellent.
- You say a word
about me being in here,
you're dead.
You hear me?
You hear me?
- Simon, I'm not done
talking with you yet.
- We'll talk later.
- But we have to
let Querns know.
- Yeah, later.
[bell ringing]
- They're in the ceiling tiles,
but I didn't get
a chance to get one.
- Lots of Native Americans,
AKA Indians,
used to live on reservations
in utter poverty.
Alcoholism was rampant.
Morale was low.
Then some chief
got the brainstorm idea
to use the land
not to hunt buffalo
but to raise money
by building a casino.
Then faster than
you can say "Custer,"
the lives
of the members of the tribe
changed for the better.
So, you see,
sometimes,
you can eliminate your own vices
by exploiting
the vices of others.
- That's crazy.
- Yeah.
Unfortunately,
we don't have another option.
- You're gonna ask Adebisi
if you can move in with him,
live in his pod?
- I need access
to those videotapes.
- What makes you think
he'll say yes?
- Believe me...
He'll say yes.
- Man, I don't even smoke these.
[laughs]
- What's up, Poet?
- Yo, Leroy,
what's happening, man?
- Nothing.
- Yo, your man, Mondo, man.
That was a wild boy, man.
He got greased.
You okay?
- No, not really.
Hey, give me some of that sh*t.
- Here, man.
- Hey, it's you and me, Poet.
We gotta cover
each other's backs now.
- Yeah.
'Cause Adebisi is
a crazy m*therf*cker.
- I'll tell you that, though.
You ain't have to worry
about Adebisi much longer.
- No?
- No, man.
Me and Said,
we're working on an angle.
- For real?
What you up to?
- I can't tell you that.
It's top secret.
- No doubt.
- No doubt.
- I hear that.
Later, blood.
- All right.
- It's what we thought.
- Okay.
- You want me to whack Poet?
- No, not yet.
Don't want them
to know that we know.
- Right.
[gate buzzes]
- Welcome.
- Thank you.
- So, which bunk do you want?
- When was the last time
you were in Emerald City?
- I don't remember.
- Since Querns took over?
- Probably.
- Well,
don't you think it's time
for another f*cking visit?
- Watch the way you talk to me!
- Leo, this is not just my ego.
The behavior in there
is illegal, immoral,
and Querns turns a blind eye.
Now,
you gave the man a free hand
because
he kept the v*olence down,
but two inmates are dead.
You gotta step in.
- You know, I remember
when you first came to Oz.
Jefferson Keane had come
to challenge you.
You got one
of your fellow Muslims
to hit you harder, harder,
until you bled.
I didn't know
what to make of you then.
Still don't now.
- Simon,
the both of us have been
on an extraordinary journey...
And I've tried
to learn from mine,
tried to find the common thing
that binds us all.
- Crime.
Crime is the common theme.
See,
we all of us bad men, even you.
I know
you have come to destroy me.
- Simon,
I don't want to destroy you.
I want to help you change.
- That is what would destroy me.
See, I am who I am,
just as you are.
And I do what I do,
just as you must.
- Does that mean
you're gonna k*ll me?
- [laughs]
k*ll you?
I want to kiss you.
But because I admire you
more than I desire you...
This is what you came for.
- Why are you giving this to me?
- Because I have everything.
Everything I need.
Every love satisfied.
It's not enough.
It'll never be enough.
- But like you said,
between the pair of us,
we can do great things
for our people.
- But for what?
We're still in Oz.
[tense jazzy music]
♪ ♪
- Yeah!
[men shouting indistinctly]
Put it in your mouth!
Oh! Oh!
sh*t!
- Turn it off.
I've seen enough.
- Leo...
- What're you gonna say, Querns?
You gonna hand me
a lot of excuses?
You didn't know?
You did know?
It doesn't matter.
You're fired.
Officer, escort Mr. Querns
off the property.
- Let me at least
clean out my office.
- We'll send you
your belongings.
Get out.
- You have yourself
a lovely evening.
- This is all my f*cking fault.
Been so caught in the campaign,
I haven't been doing my job.
You want Em City back?
- Let me think it over, yes.
- [groans]
- All right.
Listen up, everybody.
I'm back.
The following are being
transferred out of Em City.
When you hear your name,
pack up your belongings,
line up behind Officer Johnson.
93A234.
Adebisi.
[men groaning]
00T255.
Tidd.
- What the f*ck?
- 097C332.
Cody.
00W216.
Washington.
[both grunting]
- So, the end is here, huh?
- No, more likely,
things are gonna go back
to the way they were before.
- Oh, not for me.
Or for you.
- You said
you weren't gonna k*ll me!
- You swore to Allah
that you were my brother!
- And I meant that.
- Liar!
Liar.
I gave you that tape
as a final test of your loyalty.
Your friendship!
Your love.
- Oh, God!
[groans]
- This is how I'm gonna die.
- No!
No!
- Oh, yes, yes!
[men groaning and yelling]
[intense jazzy music]
♪ ♪
all: Whoa!
- Twenty-five, we got a 16.
[alarm buzzing]
Drop it.
Drop it.
Drop the shank!
[all yelling indistinctly]
- f*ck.
[tense percussive tones]
[tense jazzy music]
♪ ♪
04x08 - You Bet Your Life
Watch/Buy Amazon Merchandise
Inmates and correctional officers inside the Oswald State Correctional Facility, nicknamed "Oz," battle for power and survival amid warring factions and expl*sive acts of retribution.
Inmates and correctional officers inside the Oswald State Correctional Facility, nicknamed "Oz," battle for power and survival amid warring factions and expl*sive acts of retribution.