- Trustus: Do you cuss on your records?
- Albert: Yeah.
- Trustus: Do you defile women with your lyrics?
- Albert: Yeah.
- Trustus: Do you fondle your genitalia on stage?
- Albert: Whenever possible.
- Trustus: Do you glorify violence or advocate the use of guns as a way of solving a simple dispute?
- CB4: [pull out guns]
- Trustus: Ok! Ok! Final question. Do you guys respect anything at all?
- CB4: Not a goddamn thing.
- Trustus: You got a deal.
- Virgil Robinson: Any person who would defile America's pastime by wearing a baseball cap backwards... well, that's an evil that speaks for itself!
- Video Set Dancer: MC Gusto, you gotta help me get my revenge. It's one thing that they killed him on the toilet but they could've wiped his ass. They didn't have to leave him there like that. That's cold-blooded. They gots to pay. They... got... to... pay!
- Video Set Dancer: MC Gusto, you gotta help me get my revenge. It's one thing that they killed him on the toilet but they could've wiped his ass. They didn't have to leave him there like that. That's cold-blooded. They gots to pay. They... got... to... pay!
- Euripides: Yeah, yeah, I'm lickin' your balls, best balls I ever had. Uh-huh, you've got King-Kong balls. Your balls are so large, just big balls, I don't care. You just got big balls.
- Albert Sr.: Don't be wasting my electricity on that rap mess.
- Albert: But, pop...
- Albert Sr.: Don't "but" me. I'll beat your ass in front of your woman.
- Albert Sr.: You ain't tough. There are real some kids out there that are going to kick your narrow ass. You ain't from the street, I'm from the street. And only somebody who wasn't would think it was something to glorify.
- Albert Sr.: You ain't tough. There are some real kids out there that are going to kick your narrow ass. You ain't from the street; I'm from the street. And only somebody who wasn't would think it was something to glorify.
- Well Dressed Man: [to Trustus' corpse] Thought you got away with it, huh? Now, you layin' dead. We ain't settled this yet, right? Where's my money, muthafucka?
- [punches Trustus' corpse, leaving a black eye]
- Well Dressed Man: Where's my money, muthafucka?
- [punches Trustus' corpse again]
- Well Dressed Man: I want my money! Funeral or no funeral, I want my money! I don't care if I have to give you mouth-to-mouth to revive your Black ass! I want my money!
- [crosses himself and walks away]