New York, New York

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That's got nothing
to do with it.

The rules are for everybody.

Right now, on a street in Brooklyn,
there's a young kid.

He works himself up, and he talks
to DiB, he talks to Gravano...

he talks to three or four capos,
and you get a bullet in your head.

We survive by our rules.

And now you're breakin'
the oldest rule of all.

You're goin' fu*ckin' public.

On TV and magazine covers.

These fancy suits,
these fancy haircuts.

"John Gotti, John Gotti."

Don't give me that shit.
I didn't ask to go public.

They shove their cameras
and microphones in my face.

Get the fu*ck outta here.

You're turning this thing of ours
into entertainment...

for everyone who watches
the six o'clock news.

But our thing is secret.
 

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