Chapter & Verse Page #4

512 megabytes of RAM.

- You get out of

my store right now.

- You're trying to rip her off.

- (dialing phone)

- Yes, police.

- A man is

bothering my customer.

- I know this lady.

- You don't know this lady.

- I'm telling you I know

this lady.

- You don't know this lady.

- Yes, he does.

He's my nephew.

And you tell the cops

to come down here and lock up

your cheating ass.

Come on. Let's go.

(sighs) You can put

everything right here.

There you go.

(sighs) So, you gonna make

a computer in my living room?

- Yep.

- My husband Al,

he tried to make a TV once.

- Did it work?

- No.

Well, this is gonna work.

And you gonna get it

for just 350 and parts.

All right.

(chuckles)

It look complicated.

Ooh!

Oh, that's nice. Oh, yes.

Thank you.

So, tell me how to buy stuff

off the Internet.

Let me finish setting up

your email first.

Now, type in your password.

- T-Y-R--

- It should be a secret.

- Why?

- You don't want people

looking through

your personal information.

What's this,

your work badge?

"S. Lance Ingram."

Don't use my--

don't use my name.

I'm not using your name.

What's the "S" for?

It's just an initial.

It stands for "sir."

My father wanted to

name me Sir Lancelot

so I would be treated

like royalty.

- My mama shortened it

to Sir Lance.

- Oh.

Well, that's better than

your first name being nigga.

Or Junebug.

- (both laughing)

- You're just messing with me.

- Turn around.

- Huh?

Turn around so I can

put in the secret word.

(softly)

T-Y-R-O.

(music playing)

Drink, smoke

- (elevator dings)

- Drink, smoke

Drink, smoke

Drink, smoke...

Yo.

Excuse me.

Oh, oh.

My bad, bro.

Yo, you saw the b*tch

come out them niggas?

Yo, true story, son.

Man, these niggas

be acting like they with it.

These niggas

ain't about sh*t, though.

- You know what we should do?

- What's up?

Hit up some

Spanish b*tches, B.

F***.

F***.

These broke-ass sh*t

in the f***ing projects, man.

Yo, hit your cousin

and see if, uh...

- Tell him elevator's

stuck again.

- All right.

Yo, yo,

chill out, G. Damn.

(laughing)

Yo, this nigga think

he's Spider-Man.

- (gasping)

- Yo, dog, you ain't

never been on

- no broke-project

elevator before?

- Hell no.

That nigga wouldn't have

his head up there if he was.

- (elevator dings)

- (laughing continues)

Yo. Yo.

Yo, don't leave, bro.

Come on.

- Please don't leave.

- Yo, where you going?

Where you going, son?

(coughs)

Smoke, drink

Smoke

Print it... sign it.

- Here you go, Miss Maddy.

- All right.

Now, I want $3 on 5-9-2.

$3, 5-9-2.

And $2 on 4-1-7.

$2 on 4-1-7.

- There you go.

- Sure.

Are you gonna come visit Ghana

when you hit the number?

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