Soul Plane Page #2

Then I can party and have sex.

- Sex?! No, no. | - Yeah, sex.

Missionary, doggie-style, | rockin' the baby,

gettin' tea-bagged,

playin' the trombone | while I'm tossin' his salad,

hand jobs, ear jobs, | blow jobs.

Gettin' a pearl necklace, | ridin' the bologna pony...

- sucking-- | - That's enough!

- Did she say bologna? | - I don't know.

...whenever I want, and best of all, | I won't have to listen to you.

Can you believe that?

What came after | getting tea-bagged?

Something about the trombone.

Okay, everybody, | congratulations!

You guys have been punk'd!

There's cameras everywhere, | right, son?

We'll be back in five minutes | with the release forms.

Let's go.

Oh, sh*t! Awesome!

- Terminal Malcolm X? | - Yeah.

Roscoe's Chicken and Waffles. | Usually you gotta go to two places,

- but there you get the one-- | - This is a terminal?

It's great, 99 cents. Everything.

Oh, check out the car.

This place has every-- | there's a basketball court.

In your face!

Get your short ass on, | you leprechaun.

Look like my ex-- | short and stupid.

Everything's short.

I don't know about all that,

but if Denzel walked his fine | sexy ass in here right now,

I'm takin' the rest of the day off

and gettin' straight down | with the get down.

You know what I'm sayin'?

Girl, let me tell you, | Denzel is nice,

but I like the young thugs.

I love me some 50 Cent, baby.

Ooh, Shaniece. Go, Shaniece!

It's your birthday.

We gonna party | like it's your birthday.

Sip Bacardi | like it's my birthday.

And you know we don't | give a f*** it's not my birthday!

Look at this little nigga here.

Look more like five cent.

Nigga, can't you read?

The sign says put | all metal objects in the container.

Take your ass off. | Get on back there!

Get your ass back there.

Cheap ass.

Sh*t goin' off 'cause that sh*t cheap. | That's why it's goin' off.

My flow, my show | bought me the dough

that bought me | all my fancy things.

My cribs, my cars, | my pools, my jewels.

Nigga, I done came up | and I ain't changed.

Hold it!

You keep f***in' up | on my rhymes.

Move it along, nickel.

You wanna say somethin'?!

I ain't slapped a b*tch | in two weeks.

Yeah, I got a whole lot | of strength

in the slap-a-b*tch arm.

They had a whole bunch of dirty | magazines--bathing suit issues.

Damn! So you like that, huh? | You gonna love this.

Hold those for me, I won't be | needing those on this flight.

Girl, what you got me--

The sweet smell of Aliz.

- Hunkee? Elvis Hunkee? | - Yeah.

Karl Malone? I used to play | basketball with you in high school.

That's right. We used to call you | "The Paperboy."

Yeah, that was then. | I'm "The Mailman" now.

That's good.

My dad's a mailman, too. | Government jobs pay very well.

You don't understand, | I play for the Lakers now.

Right, Karl. I don't think | you understand.

I used to play with you, man. | You can't shoot, remember?

That's why we never | passed you the ball.

I thought it was because | I was the only brother.

No, Karl. It's 'cause you sucked!

Oh, I sucked?

What are you gonna do-- | go all "postal" on me, Mr. Mailman?

My man, what's goin' on, baby?

Ah, that's nice. | That's real nice.

I'd like to be them jeans. | Make no sense.

Excuse me. | How you doin', man?

Can I get through here, | sweetie?

What's goin' on, fellas? | My man.

When the buzzer pop, nigga, | you stop!

Do y'all know who I am?

We don't give a damn | about who you are.

Let your little ass | take one more step...

...we'll bury your ass in them fake-ass | iguana shoes you're wearin'.

Ladies, it's me. It's Nashawn Wade, | owner of this airline.

Come on, remember. | I hired y'all.

- It's him. | - There ya go.

That's a little more like it. | Thought you had amnesia.

Yes, it is him!

You that little nigga got his ass | caught in a toilet seat.

All right, little player, go on, take | your little cute rich ass on through.

Go ahead, little player.

Bet that ass still tight, | ain't it?

Sh*t, b*tch. I hope we don't lose | our benefits over this.

We sorry, Mr. Wade!

My tooth is hurtin'.

And it's f***in' | with your breath, girl.

Upsettin' all my insides here.

Don't you say sh*t else | for a year.

You done melted the whole side--

That's what you get | for f***in' us up.

I'll tell ya, I knew I shoulda got | the new Aerostar.

Check out the safety rating.

I'm a little nervous.

I heard someone say | this is the first flight for this airline.

It has five cup holders.

Honey, the FAA, they're very strict | about who they let fly an airline.

It's gonna be okay, believe me.

Yeah, I know, but I think we're | the only white people on the plane.

Girlfriend, like your bag.

Honey, no, we're not.

You ain't gonna pick me up?!

Maybe it's a coincidence, | you know, like a family reunion?

Million Man March?

Hey, what are you... | Hey, stop that!

Yeah, what up, son?

Yeah, yeah. | You know I'm like that.

I'm like that.

Damn. What up?

Here's your card, Dad. | I think I melted the sucka.

Put everything on it | but an Escalade.

I'm a holler at the shorty | I saw at the basketball courts.

One love, dawg.

Where's my son?

- How you doin'? | - I'm good.

You doin' good? | You feel wonderful.

- Yeah. All right. | - Hey. whoa! That's my zipper!

And that's too loud | for a zipper.

I don't know | what you got in there,

but we gonna find out.

- I got a plane to catch. | - Come with me.

Did you hear me, boy?!

I bet you ain't never seen | a chocolate super-deluxe woman

like me before.

Have you?

No, I got a plane to catch. | I gotta go!

Where do you think | you're goin', player?

I'm gonna get on--

We feds now, | which means I can violate

every last one | of your civil rights.

Now drop them drawers... | Denzel.

Denzel? Look, lady. | I just want--

Drop them drawers!

Show me that ass, nigga!

Now turn around.

Cavity check!

Girl, there was duct tape | and peanut butter everywhere.

I told him, I don't care | if you are a diplomat.

I don't bend into that position.

Girl, I ain't no circus freak. | This ain't Cirque du Soleil.

He's a fool.

Mi vida, | you did the right thing.

Mi primo tried that once.

The doctors still can't find | his left nut.

They say it's up there | somewhere.

Give me his address. | I'll find it.

Hey, Muggsy!

Flame, not now.

Where's the pilots | you hired, man?

- Come on, dawg-- | - It's not come on now.

We're supposed to take off | in 20 minutes.

Calm down, Little Bow-Wow.

He'll be here, all right?

- There he go right there. | - Who, him?

- Yeah, him. | - Right there?

- Right there. | - Him?

- Him right there? | - Yeah, him right there.

I told you to hire | a black pilot,

not no black baggage handler. | What is that?

I did what | you asked me to, okay?

There ain't but two | black pilots around,

and one of 'em flyin' for Puffy.

How'd Puffy get that one?

- Don't worry. | - You're right, I'm just nervous.

I got his resum right there. | My dawg, what's up, baby?

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