Four sons of well-known New York mobsters must retrieve a bag of cash from a small Montana town ruled by a corrupt sheriff.
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Storeowner: I got nothing for you my friend. Taylor: I checked the meter on my machines. Now they've had plenty of play. I gave you that key so you could borrow a little, float yourself for a few days. But half of that money is mine, and I want it. Storeowner: What can I tell you, Taylor? I run a business here. I have expenses. If I'm not paying fast enough for you, turn 'em off. Take them out of the store. Storeowner: What the fuck are you doing? Are you crazy? They're your own fucking machines! Don't do this to me, por favor. Taylor: The milk guy's getting paid... the potato chip guy's getting paid... the beer guy's getting paid... every-fucking-body's getting paid, and you look through me? You fuck! Storeowner: I got it, I got it. It's right here.
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