Fresh Page #3

Man, we just playin'.

It's just me, baby.

I don't give a f*** who you is!

Be my mother, motherf***er,

I don't play that sh*t!

-Sorry, all right?

- Yeah, you be sorry.

You do that sh*t,

just do it in front of my face.

Now, am I free to finish my

little transaction here...

without every n*gger be doin'

some sh*t behind my back?

N*ggers be dissin' you

at every turn, homes.

It's all right, 'cause

you my stand-up little G.

Yeah.

And, uh, I'll be talkin' to Jake

about his temper too.

It's one hundred dollars.

N*ggers be gettin'

$50 for lookout.

I be runnin' that rock all day.

One hundred dollars.

You one bad

motherf***er, crimey.

Only reason you ain't the man

is you still too goddamn little.

But you get bigger,

you gonna be the man.

Oh, man!

I shake on a game, Fishcake.

That wasn't no game.

All right.

Who's next, who's next?

Come on. I heard there was

players in this sh*t hole.

All I see is chumps.

Come on. Who's gonna

give me a game?

Come on.

Get outta here.

I ain't got time

for this sh*t.

All right.

Play.

Check.

Mate in four.

F*** you. Ain't no mate

in no four. F*** you.

Would've been four

if you were smart. Mate.

Sh*t.

That sh*t over there

was a waste of time.

Fished me a twenty, Dad.

You don't be pulling 'em in

for no twenties.

Said it was a waste of time.

Time ain't money...

no matter what those morons

who eat that kind of sh*t up

may try and tell you.

Anything lost can be found again,

except for time wasted.

- It was fun, Dad, stupid fun.

You seen that n*gger--

- Chess ain't fun, boy.

How many times I gotta

tell you that? Dont you

listen to a word I say?

- Maybe if I seen you more.

- Well, you don't,

so youd be well served...

to retain some of the knowledge

I'm impartin' to you...

rather than giving me

all your hard-ass

street-attitude bullshit.

Ain't so much fun now, is it?

Gettin' to be less and less fun

every second here.

Uh-uh, think about it.

Forget the clock

for a second, Michael.

What kind of player am I?

Am I an offensive man

or a defensive man?

That's right; I'm neither.

I play my opponent.

If he likes to attack,

I force him to defend himself.

If hes a cautious man,

I draw him into dangerous waters.

See, you get so frustrated

playing defensive positions...

you make stupid moves you'd

never make if you were thinkin'.

When you come here, boy,

check that sh*t at the door.

That's good.

That's better.

I'm still gonna kick your ass,

but that's better.

You been playin'

on the team?

No, huh?

Just watchin' the world

pass you by.

Figure as long as you ain't drownin',

everything's all right.

I don't need

no punk school team.

Mate.

And he got Hulk number one

and all them Thors.

My old man

got all them comic books.

He showed 'em to me,

and they were like all

stupid number ones.

- Yo, he got

Superman number one?

- Yeah, he got that.

He got Action Comics

number one?

Word, he got that too.

He got all them number ones.

Where he be keepin' 'em at?

In his garage with all them limos?

- You know you ain't

got no old man.

- I do so.

Then we'll call him up

when we get to my house.

We be givin' the n*gger a call.

- He don't answer no phones.

- And why not?

He don't want no po' n*ggers

wastin' his time.

Bam, Spiderman goes down.

Bam, Daredevil goes down.

All them n*ggers is goin' down.

Punisher be takin' they ass out.

- X-Men take out the Punisher.

- X-Man baby stuff, homes.

All their costumes

and powers ain't sh*t.

Punisher the real dope, homie.

Word, I seen a seven-foot-tall

White Terminator n*gger...

with 20 guns on my roof

just the other day.

Punisher be takin' out

all your stupid heroes.

He be sayin',

Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!

Take out that n*gger!

Bam!Bam!Bam!Bam!

Bam!Bam!Bam!Bam!

Yo, Fresh, I been training him.

Watch this.

Good boy, Roscoe.

Good boy.

Good boy? That dog

ain't nothin' but badness.

Ain't nothin' but badness.

What up, Roscoe? You miss me?

You miss your homie?

Okay, okay, Mama,

I'll be in in a minute, all right?

I'm gonna fight him

on Sunday.

- You gonna do what?

- Roscoe's gonna take on

Ricardo's pit.

Roscoe ain't fightin'

nobody's nothin'.

My dog fight

when I say he fight.

He ain't your dog.

He's our dog; I found him.

Ain't nobody askin' you, homes.

I'm gonna get paid, bust it.

You already gettin' stupid paid,

workin' them jobs for Esteban and sh*t.

Yo, we see y'all later.

We gotta go.

Well, I ain't gotta go.

You always be lookin'

all ratty and sh*t...

but everybody know

you gettin' paid.

Yo, why you always

be lookin' nappy like that?

What you be doin'

with all that jack?

You be hidin'

that sh*t away, right?

Damn, when I get paid,

I'm gonna get me those dope

new Nikes, like ten pairs.

And I'm gonna get me some

stupid gold, homes, crazy gold.

Like this tooth right here

and a five-finger gold ring...

- with my tag bustin'

all out that motherf***er.

- You ain't got no tag.

- I will when I get paid.

- He ain't fightin'.

Then you gonna take me

to get a job for Esteban?

Yo, man, why not?

'Cause you be actin'

like a stupid little kid,

that's why not.

Yo, why you dissin' me, man?

I'm crazy, homie.

I'll bust those dope moves.

Come on, Rudy.

Get it in your mouth.

Don't be such a spaz.

- Don't be talkin' like that

to your son, Esteban.

- Hey, chill, woman.

He knows I'm only messin' with him.

Right, baby?

You know Daddy's

messin' with you.

Sure you don't want

no eats?

My grandma

be cookin' at home.

You're a good boy, Fresh.

You be eating at home.

And you be running to school

when I want to talk to you.

That's okay, little homie.

I like me a smart G. I really do.

You seem to have

enough time on your hands...

to be runnin' those rocks

for Corky's boys, though.

What, you think I got no eyes

but these two in my own head?

I know where you be at.

Corky got that work.

I be runnin' for you

once a week, maybe twice

if somebody else gets sick.

Corky got them jobs.

Hey, let me tell you

something, Fresh.

Now, you're a smart kid, so you

hear these words of wisdom.

You know,

that rock is a bad move.

You start messin' with that

sh*t-- sellin', dealin'--

I guarantee inside three,

five years, you'll be dead.

Or youll have

a bullet in your head.

Or that pipe in your mouth.

Either way, you're dead.

Smack is the way to go.

This is a gentleman's operation.

The clientele is stable,

peace-loving.

The competition

is unconfrontational.

And the heat,

they mostly let it slide...

'cause there's little hassle

all the way around.

You find your niche,

you stay there, you stay cool...

and you be the man

into your 50's and 60's.

And then you retire your old ass

to a nice condo someplace hot...

with a lot of

nice Jewish people.

Leave the business for your kids.

Hey, it's like banking,

only it's more secure.

And you don't pay no taxes.

Hey, what are you doing?

You ain't holding her right.

Come here, come here.

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