Friday After Next Page #2

---

Me--

Today is the day

you motherfuckers is gonna kick in!

Why you always bring your ass

up here harassing us?

With that big ol' wolf p*ssy?

You come here all the time

smelling like that.

- You don't even own the place!

- You just the manager.

And I'm gonna manage

to evict your skinny-punk black ass

out of here today if you two

motherfuckers don't pay up your rent.

Man, get that lined up.

Don't you worry about it, b*tch.

I know somebody like it.

Take your ass back downstairs,

'cause you ain't evictin' nobody

unless you got

a motherfucking army with you.

I don't need no army, Mr. Smart-Ass!

My son Damon home right now.

Damon!

I had a nightmare

about that fool last night.

Day-Day!

Craig!

Which one of you b*tches

want to wash my drawers tonight?

- That'd be him.

- Him.

Okay.

I wash on Sundays, anyway.

Starch or press?

Starch, nigga!

Move!

Come on in, Miss Pearly.

- When did he get out?

- Last night.

And I'm gonna let you two b*tches

in on a little secret--

when you spend 12 years

on a level-4 prison yard,

you become quite fond

of little ol' girls like yourselves.

So either I'm gonna

get my rent money today,

or somebody getting

their salad tossed tonight!

Damn!

That ain't even necessary.

Sure ain't!

We start our new job today,

and I swear to God we're gonna

have your money later on tonight--

cash...in your hand!

You better!

Either you fixin' to come see me,

or Damon gonna come see you.

Simple as that.

You like 'cause your son is a fag?

Shut up, b*tch!

Tell your fine daddy I said...

I hate that b*tch!

Tight-ass pants, man! Sh*t!

Look how tight

these motherfucking pants are.

I can't even do

the James Brown in these pants.

Good. I don't want

to see you do the James Brown.

We ain't never gonna get

no p*ssy in these clothes.

I'm gonna get some.

Tasha, how we look?

Like a couple of rent-a-cops.

What about them rent-a-tits?

See, the clothes don't make the player,

the player make the clothes.

Rent-a-cops get p*ssy, too.

I'm not no rent-a-cop,

I'm a Top Flight Security

and don't you never forget it.

I swear, the first motherf***er

get out of hand...

- I'm gonna beat the--

- Sh*t!

Craig and Day-Day.

Just the niggas I need to see.

Yo, what's up, O.G., triple O.G.,

O.G. triple, triple...O.G.?

You got out last night?

I ain't seen y'all

in about 12 years, nigga.

I was little. I was about--

You're grown up now, though.

Give a nigga a hug, dawg.

I'm about to go--

lt's cool, dawg, it's cool. Come here.

Yeah, right there.

- Group hug, nigga.

- Come on, Craig.

All right, come here.

Get your ass over here.

Talk to you for a minute.

What's up, dawg?

Rate this script:3.0 / 2 votes