Donny: You can't negotiate turns. You can't signal properly. You can't maintain speed. You can't parallel park. Hell, you can't drive, honey. Shit, I can't swim, I know I can't. So you know what I do? I stay my black ass out the pool!
Memphis: Roger, I have a problem...
Roger the Car Salesman: Yes?
Memphis: I've been in L.A. for three months now. I have money, I have taste. But I'm not on anybody's "A" list, and Saturday night is the loneliest night for the week for me.
Roger the Car Salesman: Well, a Ferrari would certainly change that.
Memphis: Perhaps, Mmmm. But, you know, this is the one. Yes, yes yes... I saw three of these parked outside the local Starbucks this morning, which tells me only one thing. There's too many self-Indulgent wieners in this city with too much bloody money! Now, if I was driving a 1967 275 GTB four-cam...
Roger the Car Salesman: You would not be a self-indulgent wiener, sir... You'd be a connoisseur.
Raymond Calitri: You got 30 seconds to consider your options. One, you kill me, they kill you, your brother dies anyway.
Memphis: Shut it off!
Raymond Calitri: Two, you lie, you accept the job, you run, I hunt you down, I kill you, I kill your brother, and I kill your mother for the aggravation you cause me. Three, you accept the job, you steal some cars, you make some money, and you be a big brother.
Raymond Calitri: 8 A.M. Friday morning. The cars are on the boat, or your brother's in the coffin.