Pop: I'm from a small town called "Fresh Off a Cop's Ass", and you're making me homesick.
Pee Wee: And were gonna kick your fucking ass.
Play: That's going to mess with your dating time. That's mating time. And how is it going to look, watching TV with Uncle Fester?
Kid: It's Uncle Otis.
Play: Whatever! But Sidney, she has a home. A house, with a rec room. You know what time it is! Go downstairs in that basement, sofa bed, pow! You're in there.
Play: Ni**ers ain't breakin' my mama's good stuff, let 'em fuck with this plastic.
Mrs. Strickland: Come back to bed, Harry.
Mr. Strickland: Harry?
Kid: Wave your hands in the air, everybody.
Stab: Yo, I'l put my foot so far up yo ass you be shittin' sneaker for a month.
Kid: I wish I could come out and play with you tonight, but I'm a little busy... with your girl on my lap.
Principal: Now, why would you call his mother a garden tool?
Pop: Ah, I shoulda known you was at this Party, and ya know, with all that Jheri Curl juice you got in your hair, you better not Ever do a crime! The police won't have any problem finding you!"Follow the drip, follow the drip!"
Pop: I don't give a damn if Marvin Gaye 'gonna be there, you wont.
Bilal: Kick your bitch to the curb and let me ride with my equipment! I'm the DJ.
LaDonna: Bitch? Who you callin' a bitch? Your mama's a sorry bitch.
Bilal: Hey, my mama ain't no bitch.
LaDonna: If I'm a bitch, your mama's a bitch.
Bilal: Hey, I'll kick your ass. I'll fight a girl.
LaDonna: I know. I heard your ass was beat by a couple.
