Gimme the Loot Page #6

take off your socks,

'cause Ginnie's mom's

not gonna want you

bringing the street

into the house.

Wait, but you have on heels.

I'm a lot cleaner than you.

Follow me.

Here's the drug dealer.

Everybody say,

"Hello, drug dealer. "

Hello, drug dealer.

What's up?

Donnie's not here, right?

- Why?

You scared?

Nah, just...

Yo, you got my shoes?

No.

Donnie took them.

F***.

- Anyway, we need 100.

Money's on the table.

- All right, I got two 50s,

but...

Whatever.

So what you been up to?

- I'm good.

You?

I'm all right.

That was fast.

I called you, like,

two seconds ago.

You're not stalking me

or anything, are you?

- What?

No.

I was just doing some deliveries

in the neighborhood.

Was it on Bethune?

Was it that a**hole Benny

on Bethune?

Um, I don't know.

I think-

I think it was on-

If Benny shows up tonight,

I'm not talking to him,

no matter what.

You're not either.

No, not a word.

Is Benny the blond one?

No, no, no.

That's Aaron Childs.

- That's your blondie.

- Yup.

That's your boy,

which, I can't believe

that you like him.

- It's just that we've known him

way too long.

He's not that bad.

He's a monster.

- Hey, don't offer him

any product.

- Aaron, like, called me out

on it all of a sudden.

- I mean, of course,

have some.

Here.

- No, I'm all right.

I'm all right.

I was just joking.

Don't be that way.

Here.

- Nah, really,

I'm-I'm really cool.

I'm good.

You're really cool?

He's really cool.

- That's not what I meant.

That's not what I meant.

Yo, did I tell you

that I'm gonna bomb

the Shea Stadium apple?

- I think it's called

Citi Field.

What's the apple?

- Oh, it's like,

when the Mets hit a home run,

it's, like, this big, goofy,

like, plastic apple

that comes up; it's crazy.

- And you're gonna draw graffiti

on it?

Yeah.

That's so stupid.

That's f***ing retarded.

No, it's not.

I'm a Yankees fan, so...

My dad's a Yankees fan.

Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay.

Good-bye, drug dealer.

It's Malcolm.

Excuse me.

Girls,

say good-bye to Malcolm.

- Bye, Malcolm.

- Good-bye, Malcolm.

- Yo, whatever, man.

Whatever.

- "Whatever"?

We love you.

Girls, say, "We love you"

to Malcolm.

We love you, Malcolm!

Oh, well.

We should bring him

to Betty's party.

That would be a riot.

- And, like, I wanted

to feel sympathetic,

except, the whole time, he was,

like, complaining about...

- So you get the necklace

or what?

- You know

I take care of my sh*t.

Let's rob this b*tch.

Oh, sh*t.

Nigga, where you going?

Why you mad?

Now that I think about it,

you was gone only two minutes.

Still ain't get

your sneakers back, mm-mm-mm.

- I don't know, but he needs

to get the f*** out here.

Believe this sh*t, man?

These f***ers ain't got

no vanilla Dutches, man.

They call this sh*t

a cigar shop?

Come on.

We gonna go to this newsstand.

- What you think?

You didn't tell me-

Like, you didn't give me

an answer yet.

- No, but I think-

I like what I hear, man.

Sofia, you follow that b*tch.

Once she leaves her spot,

keep a eye out.

Let us know

when she's comin' back.

Me and Malcolm sneak in.

I pick that lock, easy-easy.

Champion saves

the motherfuckin' day.

- "Champion saves

the motherfuckin' day"?

Nigga, don't forget

this is me and Malcolm's deal.

- What the f***?

Y'all jewel thieves now?

Maybe.

- So what the f***

you wasting my time for?

Why you calling me up

with this bullshit, man?

Yeah, that's what I thought.

Don't worry.

We gonna-I'm gonna break you

off a nice cut.

- Break us off a cut?

N*gger-

- Come on. Keep it up.

- F*** this sh*t.

Malcolm,

I'll do it my f***ing self.

- Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah.

F*** that.

Look, when we pawn that sh*t,

we'll give you 20%.

- 20%?

Nah, I pawn 'em; you get 20%.

- Nigga,

you out your f***ing mind.

F***ing crazy-ass nigga.

- Hold up.

Let me get a Dutch.

You got vanilla Dutch?

- No Dutch.

- No Dutches?

Come on, let me explain

something to you, man, a'ight?

Y'all get locked up?

Five years probation.

Y'all coming home the next day.

No need to worry.

Me, I get locked up?

Three-time predicate-

I'm going down.

So if I'm gonna rob

a rich white b*tch,

believe me, I'm gonna take

my proper cut.

F*** it.

We'll give you 50%,

but that's it.

- That's what I'm talking.

That's what I'm talking.

I like that.

- A'ight.

- A'ight, I'ma keep

one of them stones, a'ight?

- Keep one of them stones?

- For my b*tch.

- Nigga, that's coming out

your cut.

- Nah, you can charge that

to the game, b*tch.

Just don't f*** it up.

I'm Champion, baby.

Champion never fucks up.

I don't understand, like,

why we don't just

burst in there.

What's wrong with you, man?

You stupid or something?

Relax.

Calm down.

- Well, turn on the f***ing AO.

I'm hot, nigga.

- The AO drains my gas,

and I'll be damned-

I'm not turning on my car.

Well, turn on the radio.

- Damn, b*tch,

the radio broke too.

What the f***?

Hello?

Yeah, Ma,

I can't talk right now.

No, I've been working.

I've been working.

Nah, me and Sofie-

me and Sofie

are helping this guy out.

We-yeah,

but I can't talk right now.

I'm gonna call you back,

all right?

All right.

What the f*** are you doing?

Jerking off

in the back of the f***ing car?

No, yo, I got stickage, yo.

What the f*** is stickage?

He knows.

It's, like, when your balls

and your dick

stick together, like...

I ain't never heard of that.

You better go

to the f***ing doctor.

No, I don't need a doctor.

I'm all right.

- Who's that stinking

like that?

Why would you hang your

funky-ass socks in the window?

- Stinking up the car, man,

for real.

- No, that's them funky-ass TVs

in the back

stinking up the car like that.

- Listen,

them shits work, man.

So hook that sh*t up!

You ready?

We gonna do this sh*t

right here.

All these buttons...

UPS?

Come on.

This is what I came here to do,

baby.

Come on, man.

Stop playing, man.

Oh, sh*t, easy as f***, man.

Come on, man.

Hurry the f*** up, man.

- Come on.

We're on six now.

- Six?

We on seventh, man.

Yo, we walked up six flights,

so we on the sixth floor.

- We on seventh, man.

You start from two, man.

- What the f*** you mean,

"start from two"?

One, two, three...

- Nah, nah.

- Four.

- You know what?

Come on.

We gonna start from scratch.

We gonna start from scratch.

I ain't gonna rob

the wrong house, man.

No, this is it.

- Come on.

We start from scratch, man.

- No, no, no, wait.

- Let's do it.

Come on.

I don't feel like f***in'

walking all the way down.

- A'ight, youngster,

pay attention.

A'ight, simple sh*t.

Ground floor, second floor,

third floor, fourth floor,

so on and so on.

Understand?

All right, get to stepping.

Come on.

I ain't got all day.

- Why none of these

f***ing people

got numbers on their doors?

- F***in' white people

don't take no stairs, man.

You ain't tell me there were

gonna be two locks, man.

Look at the size of that

motherf***er right there, man.

Rate this script:3.0 / 2 votes