All About the Benjamins Page #6

What makes you say some|dumb sh*t like that?

Because you ain't never|brought me to your house.

It's either you|can't turn me in...

...or you won't turn me in.

You tryin' to get them diamonds|for yourself, ain't you?

Hell, no.

You know what I'm after.

I still don't know what|you want out this thing.

I just wanna solve the case...

...before the Miami P.D. do,|that's all.

That's bullshit.|I know that Miami P.D...

...and them bounty hunters|don't get along.

I ain't gonna tell you no more...

...until you tell me|what I wanna know.

I'm about to catch a severe case of amnesia|up in this motherfuckin' piece right now.

All right.

I'm tryin' to get out|the bounty hunting business.

It's a bullshit racket.

Now, what I really want to do...

...is open my own|private investigation firm...

...'cause that's where the money is.

At first, I just wanted to catch the|motherfuckers that shot at me...

...but now I think|I can solve this case...

...and if I do it before|the Miami police do it...

...that publicity right there'd|be everything I need...

...to get my business|off the ground.

So, that's what I want.

So you're tryin' to get the diamonds...

- ...so you can turn 'em back in.|- Yep.

That's harder to believe than|my ticket story, a**hole.

At least it's the truth!

F*** you, Bucum.|You think I'd be goin'...

...through all this trouble|just to keep a lie goin'?

Yeah, 'cause you|a lyin' son of a b*tch...

...you a con man, and you always|tryin' to get over on people.

What about you?|You tryin' to get over...

...on people, too--|just in a different way.

Let me tell you|somethin', man...

...you know, just in case|you don't know...

...I've been on my own since I was|fourteen years old.

Everything I done|got off the street...

...I got it on my own.

What's your story?|Why are you so selfish?

That ain't none of your business.

Oh, it ain't none|of my business, huh?

Hold up, hold up.|Now who's the con man?

At least you know what I'm all about.

I ain't got nothin' to hide.

What you all about?

I'm all about the business.

What you think?

Why you don't trust nobody, man?

Man, look, look, look.

OK, let's just change the subject...

...'cause you kind of sound|like a female...

...with all this inner-feeling sh*t.

Just let me know everything...

...you know about that diamond robbery.

Naw, I don't think I know nothin'...

...about no diamond robbery,|since we ain't partners.

OK.

I didn't-- what did I hear?

Did I hear anything?

- I said, "OK."|- OK, what?

OK, we partners...|but I'm the boss.

OK, partner.|I mean, boss.

You the boss.

So, what's the plan?

I think we gotta go to Mrs. Barkley.

Go over they house,|see what she know.

I don't like that plan.

So what? You ain't|the boss. I am.

- But I'm the capo.|- You ain't--

- The boss next to the boss.|- You ain't sh*t...

...and I should slap your ass|for bitin' me on my nipple...

...anyway.

I had to bite you 'cause you|had me in a headlock...

...with my woman standin' there.

No-- you-- I'm not gonna|let you kick my ass...

...in front of my girl,|and then, when I get home...

...she be tellin', "Why you|ain't do Bucum like that?"

I'm gonna take your ass to court...

...for involuntary manslaughter...

...battery against|a Jehovah's Witness...

Bucum!

That's a nice crib!

Yeah, it's tight.

I'm gonna get one of these|when I get my money.

Wait a minute.|Back in the car.

Why I always gotta wait in the car?

Look, I don't wanna|scare this white lady...

...with two niggas knockin' on her|door at 7:30 in the mornin'.

She might not open it.

Well, leave me a gun|out here, pimpy.

Get your ass back in the car, pimpy.

You're lucky I don't tie you|back to the steering wheel.

Hello?

Excuse me, Mrs. Barkley?

Hello?

Hello?

This is a bad motherf***er!

Sub-zero.

Oh, this is a bad mother--

Make mine feel like a president!

First black president!

Now, let's go outside|and take care of your friend.

Take care of that, motherf***er!

I thought I told you to keep|your dumb ass in the car.

You know what?|I had a feeling...

...you was gettin'|your ass kicked in here...

...and you was.

Get the key out of my pocket, man.

Say "thank you" or somethin'.

Oh, I'm gonna let you go.

Ow! Sh*t, man.

Hold up, man.

Is you retarded or somethin'?

Naw, I'm just not the police.

You gotta be a police|to be able to do this sh*t.

The punk-ass police.

Bastard.

See if you can find Mrs. Barkley.

We f***ed him up, man.

And don't touch nothin'.

Ain't nobody gonna touch sh*t.

Punk-ass mini-me.

Sh*t.

Sh*t, hold up.

Got a pretty good|swing there, golf boy.

I wonder what's your handicap?

I'm gonna rip|your f***in' arm off...

...and beat you to death|with it, you cocksucker!

Is that right?

Hold that thought, player.

What the hell you keep yelling for?

This b*tch just scared|the sh*t out of me!

I'll be goddamned.

This is Mr. Barkley's will|right here, man.

I told you not to touch nothin'.

But I--

It look like he left her everything.

I know, but I'm trying to buy this crib.

I know they gonna sell it.

What's in the safe?

Nothin'.

He said the diamonds was|in a nice, safe place, but bling-bling.

Now, what's safer than a safe?

Come on, Bucum, look.|Listen, man.

Don't you think they|smart enough to get...

...the f***in' diamonds outta there|before we got here?

Yeah, as a matter of|fact, they would, huh?

- Right.|- Come here, a**hole.

In fact, let me check you.

Come on, man!

Sorry, Puffy,|but we're talkin' about...

...$20 million worth of diamonds.

And even an honest man|like yourself could get tempted.

You know what?

You can trust me.|That's what it is.

You can trust me.|What the f*** I want...

...with $20 million worth|of motherfuckin' diamonds?

Trust me, man!|We together--

Oh, this a whole lot|of trust right here.

I know what you thinkin'.

I was just about to|put that back in there.

You scandalous.

How you gonna steal from a dead woman?

'Cause she ain't complainin' about it.

She don't give a f***.

Hey, Bucum, we can split it!

We got a friend for you, partner.

What's next, man?

We go in here and wipe down|everything we touched.

Whatcha doin' walkin' around|these people house, man?

Hey, you know they got|a sub-zero refrigerator in here?

Get your ass back|over here and help me.

Drinkin' orange juice and sh*t.

Don't you know we got a dead|white woman upstairs, man?

You better hurry up|and clean this sh*t up, huh?

Give me something to clean with, man.

Sh*t.

And hurry up.

Nigga's a f***in' joke.

Oh, sh*t. Look at this.

Damn, we gotta get that.

I know.

Why don't you stick your hand|in there and grab it?

See? You know,|you're tryin' to be funny.

That's like askin' me|to stick my tongue...

...in Oprah Winfrey's ass.

I'm not f***in'|stickin' my hand in there.

Oh, sh*t.

Watch out.

Damn.

Yo, what's that up under|that gun right there?

Look. You see it?

Right there. Grab it.

Oh, my God.

Oh, yeah.

Said they was in a nice, safe place...|but bling-bling.

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