Brutha, what is the matter with you?!

We pulled all dem guilt strings and moved yo dumb, lead-paint eatin' ass out there in crackerville, where you can just take what you need from dem white faɡɡots and you gotta bank a brutha?

I know he were a light-skinned dude, but sill. En a steak knife yet? Yo shit dat weak yo can't even slap the boy down? Yo, that shit could bring a charge if da popo eva get out dey own way.

I know we said "Take dat shit to the suburbs"—but take it to Whitey!

Look, Brutha, I feel yo pain en I do not expect you to find a whiteboy carrying a brand new pair of shoes home from da stoe dat don't look retarded. The plan, is, you rob the white boy, en den go buy dem shoes—the right size, nigga. Don't you see the dilemma here? If you need to rob a nigga every time you need new shoes, den dat nigga you own size, en you need da knife, en dat shit eventually catches up. So instead a pullin' a knife on a brutha, smack down two white boys en buy dem treads!