y'all better chill.  next out is hadji , a skinny persian kid with cornrows.
i tried, yo!
bam! y'all owe me seven hundred dollars!
lemme go free style.
don't you talk about my momma.
you ain't got the bizalls, bitch!
yeah? well your momma's so poor, when she went to monte carlo, she flew commercial.
your momma's so poor, when she stayed at the four seasons, she could only afford three.
 aaaaaa.
if dat's what you got to do to get on big boy's label, count me out.
but.  what if they don't have coffee?
this. monster pulls a scuba divers' spear gun from the bag.
my pop's spear gat. from the yacht. mocha laughs and starts doing whale sounds.
a'ight free willy, think you so bad, what you got?
aargh, matey, give up yer treasure or i'll bust me harpoon in yer booty. monster and hadji start laughing.
hadji, how 'bout you?
good thinking, but what heat you got? he opens a plastic case, revealing a stinger rocket launcher and four missiles.
dang! where'd you get all dat?
yeah! drop yo gats! the i-9s, unafraid, point their guns right back at hadji, monster and mocha. it's a multi-player mexican standoff.