Carl: |
Hey, Ryder! This ni**a's loaded... Ryder! |
Ryder: |
Yeeaahh, CJ... Hey, CJ, tell me why I didn't finish high school. |
Carl: |
Because you been dealing drugs, man, since the age of ten! |
Ryder: |
No, that ain't it. |
Carl: |
Because you went and put hands on that teacher for wearing Ballas colors! |
Ryder: |
No, that ain't it either. It's 'cause I'm too intelligent for this shit, man. I am the real deal, fool. Oh yeah. A genius. |
Ryder: |
Who has more straps than anybody? Who has all the straps, huh? |
Carl: |
A man with a lot of guns? Shit, I give up. |
Ryder: |
The army, my ni**a, the army! Let's go. |
Ryder: |
Go hit the wet, ni**a. |
Carl: |
Get that outta my face, man. |
Carl: |
You know I don't fuck with that, man. C'mon! |
Ryder: |
Busta!(not actually in subtitles.) |
Ryder: |
You think you can roll this van without killing us both? |
Carl: |
Hey, Ryder, where we going? |
Carl: |
How we get this van? It wasn't outside when I came through. |
Ryder: |
My homie LB, he's like a clockwork ninja! Real dependable. Unlike some of you motherfuckers... |
Carl: |
Don't matter how much shit this city throws at you, CJ, you gotta stick by your homies! |
They arrive at the destination. |
CJ: |
Man, this shit look real serious. Are we up for this? |
Ryder: |
It's National Guard, fool! Weekend soldiers! Ain't no match for Grove Street OG's! Now get in there and open the damn gate! |
CJ climbs over the wall and opens the gate. |
Soldier: |
Hey, stop where you are! |
Ryder: |
- CJ destroys the switch to open the gate* Nice job, CJ, thought that was a suicide mission for sure! Now open the warehouse and keep these motherfuckers busy!
|
Soldier: |
We got an intruder, sound the alarm! |
CJ: |
- Opens warehouse door* Yeah, open for business. Back that van up in here.
|
Ryder: |
- Parks Mule in front of warehouse and gets out* I'll watch our backs while you use the forklift to collect the crates. OK, homie, let's load this shit up!
|
CJ uses forklift to put crates into Mule, whiel Ryder shoots National Guard soldiers. |
Ryder: |
Shit, CJ, shit! There's too many damned weekend soldiers! *After CJ collects all crates inside warehouse* They got more crates outside, CJ! They're crawling out the woodwork! Punk-ass National Guard! |
CJ loads six crates into Mule. Ryder jumps to the back of the van and CJ drives them to the lockup at Emmet's place. |
Ryder: |
C'mon, CJ, we got enough! CJ, get up in front and drive us outta here! They got a storage garage up in Willowfield! Go! *Two Patriots show up* Damn, man, these idiots just don't give up! |
CJ: |
What's happening back there? |
Ryder: |
These part time soldiers got a chip on their shoulders! |
CJ: |
Nice rhymes, man. Hey, we're real heavy, toss some crates! |
Ryder: |
A'ight, check it out. Sound the horn, I'll throw a crate at 'em. |
CJ: |
I ain't rolling with you no more, man, 'til you off that water, homie. It mess with your mind. |
Ryder: |
Whatever you say, fool. You don't know what's going on. |
Ryder: |
I ain't listening to no more of your bullshit. We got the guns. You ain't no gangster, homie. You want it smooth? You don't want no trouble. I keep it real. |
CJ: |
You wouldn't know real if it came and hit you in your cheeks, homie, which it could do, if it gave you a hit first. |
Ryder: |
I ain't listening to you, Carl. |
CJ and Ryder stop the van at Emmet's place. |
Ryder: |
That shit was tight! |
CJ: |
Tight? Man, that shit was shit. |
Ryder: |
Man, you say you down for the homies, but all you do is complain. |
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