yo yo yoooo! listen up, y'all! he lays down a beat "human beat box"-style as monster climbs out. she's big, wearing short shorts, a tight leather halter, huge hoop earrings and oversized designer sunglasses.
you don't want to see him like dis.
he o.d.'d again.
like twelve, thirteen, i don't know!
woof woof!
oooh!
dang!
bam!
oh damn, it's on now! cut to:
 gaaaaa.
 aaaaaa.
 aaaaaa.
dat is some hardcore shiznit, y'all!
he ain't with big boy, fool! b- rad's hangin' with some serious bangers!
bounce to our respective cribs, jack our moms' and pops' biggest gats, jet down to south central and save his ass.
a'ight, monster, what kind of toast you strappin'?
never mind. he puts an old musty case in the car and starts to close the doors. hadji stops him.
a'ight, a'ight, chill. he opens the case, revealing an antique blunderbuss musket, with a flintlock hammer and a bell muzzle.
what? my pops is a collector. come on, man, pirates used that shit. monster grabs the musket and points it at mocha.
shut up! damn posers! he snatches the musket from monster and carefully places it back in the case.
word up, b. all this hatin' is wack! mocha slams the butt of the musket down, and the flintlock slams forward. everyone cringes. nothing happens. everyone looks at the musket, then suddenly it explodes and a rusty musket ball fires out, slamming monster in the middle of her kevlar breastplate. she flies back and slams into the wall, causing her spear gun to fire -- a spear shoots out and lands directly into brad's left ass cheek. brad howls and drops the missile