Silky. Him? That ain't Dolemite! I'm prettier than that nigga.
Alright, Dawg, I'll ax 'im.
If I risk my ass for you, will I git a chance to cap sum crackas?
Thug. Iz yo homie a ghost, or ya talkin to tha Almighty?
Silky. In orda to fine hiz equal, a halfrican american brotha iz forced to talk ta God. Sup, Dawg? Yo, God sez quit changin the subject an anser tha fuckin question.
Thug. Mind yo tongue in fron' of tha man.
Old Thug. Crazy nigga.
*Silky pulls a gat, prompting everyone else in tha joint to do likewise.*
Silky. Smart enough to slip my tek-9 past yo thugs, old foo.
Dolemite. Tha's my dawg, you black irish mothafucka. And tha anser t'yo kestion is yes, if you pimp fo' me, you git to kill white boys.
Silky. Word, yo! Silky is my name. I'm tha most wanted nigga on mah iland. Sept I ain't on mah iland, yo; mo's tha pitty.
Thug. Yo iland? You mean Manhattan?
Silky. Skrate up. That shit is mine.
Thug. You fuckin out yo mine.
*Laughter breaks out, spreading first from Silky.*
Silky. I'm in tha rite place, then.