Travis Bickle: [Walks up to Sport] Hey Sport. How ya doin'?
Sport: Okay, okay my man, how... Where do I know you from, man?
Travis Bickle: I don't know. How's everything in the pimp business, huh?
Sport: Do I know you?
Travis Bickle: No. Do I know you?
Sport: Get outta here. Come on, get lost, huh.
Travis Bickle: Do I know you? How's Iris? You know Iris.
Sport: No, I don't know nobody name Iris. Iris? Come on, get outta here, man.
Travis Bickle: You don't know anybody by the name of Iris?
Sport: I don't know nobody name Iris!
Travis Bickle: No?
Sport: Hey, go back to your fuckin' tribe before you get hurt, huh man. Do me a favor, I don't want no trouble, huh. Okay?
Travis Bickle: You got a gun?
Sport: Get the fuck outta here, man.
[Flicks his cigarette at him]
Sport: Get outta here
[Kicks him]
Sport: .
Travis Bickle: Suck on this.
[Travis shoots him with a revolver in the stomach and walks away]