Yes, we do.

Fuck you.

Come on, Kimi.

What you probably didn't know is Kimi was one of the first brokers here, one of Stratton's original 20.

Now, most of you met Kimi, the beautiful, sophisticated woman that she is today, the woman that wears $3,000 Armani suits, drives a brand new Mercedes-Benz, a woman who spends her winters in the Bahamas and her summers in the Hamptons.

That's not the Kimi that I met.

The Kimi that I met didn't have two nickels to rub together.

She was a single mom on the balls of her ass with an eight-year-old son, okay?

She was three months behind on her rent.

And when she came to me and asked me for a job, she asked for a $5,000 advance just so she could pay his son's tuition.

What'd I do, Kimi?

Go on, tell me.

You wrote me a check for $25,000.

That's right.

And you know why that is?

It's because I believed in you.

It's because I believed in you, Kimi, just like I believe in each and every one of you here today.

I fucking love you, Jordan.

I fucking love you.

I fucking love you.

I love you.

I fucking love you, too.

I fucking love you, too.

And I love all of you.

I love all of you from the bottom of my heart.

I mean that.

Let me tell you something.

There is no nobility in poverty.

I have been a rich man, and I have been a poor man, and I choose rich every fucking time.

Because at least as a rich man, when I have to face my problems, I show up in the back of a limo wearing a $2,000 suit and a $40,000 gold fucking watch.

Hey, boys, duke it out.

Hit him.

Get the fuck off of me.

If anyone here thinks I'm superficial or materialistic, go get a job at fucking McDonald's, because that's where you fucking belong.

But before you depart this room full of winners, I want you to take a good look at the person next to you.

Go on.

Because sometime in the not-so-distant future, you're going to be pulling up to a red light, and you beat up old fucking Pinot, and that person's going to be pulling up right alongside you in their brand-new Porsche with their beautiful wife by their side who's got big voluptuous tits.

And who are you going to be sitting next to?

Some disgusting wildebeest with three days of razor stubble and a sleeveless muumuu crammed in next to you in a call load full of groceries from the fucking Price Club.

That's who you're going to be sitting next to.

So you listen to me, and you listen well.

Are you behind on your credit card bills?

Good.

Pick up the phone and start dialing.

Is your landlord ready to evict you?

Good.

Pick up the phone and start dialing.

Does your girlfriend think you're a fucking worthless loser?

Good.

Pick up the phone and start dialing.

I want you to deal with your problems by becoming rich.

All you have to do today is pick up that phone and speak the words that I have taught you, and I will make you richer than the most powerful CEO in the United States of fucking America.

Pick up the phone.

I want you to go out there, and I want you to ram Steve Madden's stock down your clients' throats till they fucking choke on it.

Till they choke on it and they buy a hundred thousand shares.

That's what I want to hear.

You be ferocious.

You be relentless.

You be telephone fucking delirious.

Now let's knock this motherfucker out of the bar.

Hey, Leroy.

What?

Your mama is calling you, man.