The Wash Page #4

Oh, don't tell me.|You got your half of the rent?

Why you try to clown me?|I ain't got a check.

And put that sh*t out|before Mr. Washington comes.

- He's already pissed off at you.|- What is he pissed offfor?

- It's worse than you think.|- Worse than I think?

Stall me out with that mystery sh*t|and tell me what's poppin'.

Okay, look...

boss man got you on tape|stealing supplies.

- And he sent me to fire your ass.|- Fire me?

Who the f*** is you?|The car wash detective?

Get the f*** out of my face,|''Crowjack.''

Whatever. Like I said,|boss man got you on tape stealing.

And he left it up to|me whether or not you stay.

So what's your decision, boss?

I guess you can stay...

for now.

Ain't that a b*tch?

You finished?|What's the problem, Loc?

Can you believe this motherfuckin'|Sean threatened to fire me?

- Who the f*** he think he is?!|- That's your homie, boss.

- I mean, your boss, homie.|- Kick back with that bullshit.

I'm in no mood to play.

Loc, if I were you,|I'd ''bam''!

I'd ''bim''!|Sleep.

Shut the f*** up.|I'm gonna take a smoke break.

Hey, Jimmy!

- What's up?|- Check this out. Look at this nigga.

Can't believe this motherf***er|let his job go to his head.

And I'm the one|who put him on.

Mr. Washington is thinking|about getting those new brushes.

Oh yeah?

That electric sh*t.

- Khakis all kicked up his ass!|- They probably a thong.

You talking about them brushes|like they cool.

But if he gets the brushes,|I'm fired,

'cause that's what I do.

It is what it is.

Can't believe this nigga.|B*tches, man.

- Let's go smoke some.|- Hey, might as well start.

Motherf***er Sean thinks|he got a real job, huh?

( cell phone rings )

I don't blame him|for being pissed, though.

That n*gger also blow bullshit.

- That's what I'm talkin' about.|- ( coughing )

- This sh*t is poppin' now.|- ( coughing )

- I'm taking the rest of the day off.|- What about your boy Sean?

F*** that nigga. He can't|even pay his half of the rent.

Oh, broke ass nigga!

You the fool.|I'm high as f***.

( rap music playing )

You know when yes means yes

You can stand by your word|'cause your word is your balls

Lose one,|you're losing them all

All hell or alcohol

'Cause it's my turn now...

Whoa, whoa,|what the f*** you doin'?

Is that Windex?|You putting Windex on my tires?

- That's just a little something.|- Does that look that a window?

- No, that ain't a window.|- Can you see though this?

- You insulting my intelligence?|- Yeah.

- You don't put Windex on tires.|- I'm a professional.

- Get your manager right now.|- Whoa, what's the problem?

- Are you the manager?|- Yeah.

- Are you the manager?|- I am.

Mighty Mouse put some Windex|on my f***ing tires.

You're putting Windex|on tires again?

- I thought he was a professional.|- That's what I do.

Let me handle this.|Give me a minute.

- Yeah, go ahead, man.|- I'm a professional. You lucky.

Let's straighten out everything.|I'm sorry about that.

Let's straighten this out.

- All right.|- There you go.

- A free car wash?|- Yeah, anytime you need.

I don't want no f***ing|free car wash.

I need my money back.

You'd need to give|me three or four of these.

- What the f*** is this?|- I got it for you.

If you're gonna be a dick about it,|take your ass up the street!

F*** you,|old trout-mouthed ass nigga.

What you doing? Shouldn't you|be down there getting wet?

Having a cigarette break.

Cuz, I'm about to ride on this nigga.|I'll holler back at you.

Sean:
Hey, Dee!

- Need to holler at ya.|- Hey, y'all,

I gotta go|to a dentist appointment.

Dee!

Dee!

( honking )

Do come again.

Excuse me.|Do you know who cleaned my car?

What? It wasn't me.|I ain't took sh*t.

Did I say you took anything?

- You must have did it.|- Check this out, homegirl.

If I'm gonna take something,|it's gonna be real.

Ain't gonna be|no few punk ass dollars.

First of all, I didn't|even tell you what was taken.

And I wouldn't give|a damn if it was a dime.

- It's still mine.|- Don't be coming at me like that.

- You don't know me.|- Okay, so you bad now?

- Yeah.|- Okay.

You're right, I don't know you.|And you don't know me.

Look, here.|Here, here.

Nothing but|a few punk-ass dollars.

Put that back|in your pocket.

- I'm straight.|- What?

I'm trying|to give you back your money.

Know what I'm saying?

Hey!

Announcer:
The Hawks get|the opening tip to start the game.

It's knocked away.|Stolen.

There's the entry pass|to the paint.

Sh*t!

Finally some peace and quiet.

Damn!

Gotta get that goddamn boot|off my car.

Sh*t!

Sh*t!

Announcer:
Westside Radio in your|earhole. Julio G. right here.

Across from me, DJ Jam.|It's the 7:00 mix.

Jam, drop the beat for me,|homeboy!

- ( music playing )|- That is my song, girl!

Diane:
Right there!|I have to turn that up.

( music playing louder )

Oh, man,|this motherf***er!

Can you turn it down some?

Dee!

Would you turn it down some?

Look, I've been at work all day!|And I'm tired.

I'm trying to relax.|Won't you turn it down some?

Nigga,|if you're trying to relax,

take your b*tch ass|to the Snooty Fox.

This the spot, motherf***er.

- And get the f*** out of my face.|- Who the f*** you talking to?

Holy sh*t, I can't believe|this nigga...

Nigga, what you wanna do?!

You know what? You need to quit it|with that tough guy act.

This ain't no act,|I'm serious with this.

- You trippin', homeboy.|- Nigga,

just give me my f***ing half|of the rent.

Anyway, we don't need him|to have a good time.

Vickey:
Come on baby.|Sit down.

- ( door slamming )|- Dee: Nigga, I'm Dee Loc.

I pay the cost|to be the boss.

- Punk motherf***er!|- Vickey: That's right, baby.

( rap music )

When motherfuckers|be all in your ear and sh*t

Know what I'm saying?

Or that naggin' b*tch

Just likes to hear herself talk

Going on your highway

That's some f***ed-up sh*t

But it happens

Know what I'm saying...?

How many of you got it?

How many motherfuckers|can say they're psychotic?

How many motherfuckers can say|their brain dry-rotted from pot?

You got it like I got it|or not?

Man:
Car's ready!

Dee:
Juan,|see you in a minute, cuz.

There are some stank ho's|in these videos!

They're all right to me.|They look cool.

You know what?|It's almost time for me to go.

All right.|Thanks for the ride.

I was about to say|the same thing.

( laughing )

You crazy boy,|get out of here.

- I'm gonna holler at you tomorrow.|- Okay.

- Okay?|- All right.

Mark?

You got a few dollars I can borrow|to get something from the mall?

You ask like you're asking|for something off the ice cream truck.

But you're my boo.|I do anything for my boo.

See what we got in here.|Whap-- whap-- whap--

all day, all you need.|Here you go, how does that look?

- I can make it work.|- Make it work, make it work.

...78, 79--|Sir, do you mind leaving?

- You talking to me?|- No, I'm talking to you.

- I'm with my baby.|- I don't give a f***!

Bounce your ass|out of here in that rubber suit!

- All right.|- With your punk ass!

The police's probably|gonna arrest you...

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