The Wash

( rap music playing )

THE WASH:

( rap music continues )

- Get me a box of them condoms.|- Okay.

And give me some of that|fruit-flavored lubricant, too.

Give me some of them blunts,|Mexicali.

I want some incense.

Try to get|this motherf***er fixed.

Oh, but she's still--

She's still dancing.

I don't f*** with a b*tch|unless she gives me ass.

Buy her something to drink,|it's a guarantee.

( police siren sounding )

Rider:
God damn!

Nephew, go get them off.

Man, I don't know|them niggas.

Why don't you|roll up there with me?

Quit acting scared.

We both go up there|it'll look like something's up.

You know niggas|get real paranoid

when they see a gang|of motherfuckers walking up.

Sojust get the ho's|and hurry up.

You're probably right.

F*** it.|Hold this for me.

Nigga, make sure|you watch my back.

Nigga, if you need me,|just whistle.

Come on, nigga.

Oh, excuse me, man.|What's up?

What do you mean,|''What's up,'' nigga?

- This nigga's got into some sh*t.|- No, I don't mean it like that.

- I mean, what's happening?|- What's happening here?

I'm trying to find out if|Diane and Vickey live here.

What are you,|the police or something?

Wait wait wait.|Hold up, homie. Hold up.

Hold up?

Check this sh*t out.|You hold up.

( starts car )

Look, man, I want no problems.|I ain't come for all that.

Sh*t.

It's too late for that, nigga.

Woman:
What you doing?

- What you talking about?|- What you doing?

- Man:
You know this nigga?|- Yeah! That's Sean.

- Sean, that's my brother Maniac.|- What's up, man?

Maniac:
Let's roll, man.

All right, boy,|I'll see you later.

Your mama.

Why the f*** your people|tripping on me like that?

Driver:
Hey, babies.|Vickey and Diane.

- Man's best friends.|- Hey.

Smelling good, looking good.

- How come you didn't come help me?|- Come help?

You didn't see them niggas|pull a strap on me?

Them niggas pulled|a strap on you just now?

Look, man, I saw you|start the f***ing car up.

Woman:
Let's go.

Did you see anyone|pull a strap on him?

- Let's go.|- F*** it, let's just go.

- F*** this.|- Quit tripping.

Let me get these lights.

Woman:
Sean,|you got some hot sauce?

I hope you got|some hot sauce real hot,

'cause it'd be the sh*t|with this chicken.

- Sean:
Something old or new?|- Definitely something old school.

Why you all in|my chicken box?

I got something they don't have|any motherfuckin' more.

( funk music playing loudly )

( music thumping )

Hey!!

Turn that sh*t down!

Stupid young n*ggers|making all that noise.

I'll call the police.

Turn that sh*t down!!

( banging on wall )

Hey!!

Shut the f*** up, old man.

Quit beating|on my motherfucking wall!

Beat these nuts if|you want to beat something.

( banging )

God damn!

Who the f***'s knocking|on the door like the police!

Hey, y'all,|it is the police!

Turn that sh*t down.|Put this sh*t out.

Oh, how are you,|officers?

How are you doing? Can you step|away from the door, please?

Yeah, we got a call|about the music.

I don't hear any music. But we'll try|to keep it down for you.

Don't try, son.|Do it.

And burn some incense|or something.

Shut the f*** up,|Dee Loc nigga.

Turn that sh*t back up, cuz.

( music playing loudly )

Announcer:
Wake your ass up, Cali.|It is Westside Radio.

We're gonna have|a hot morning.

I've got a lot of cool stuff.|Request lines are open.

I wanna know what you wanna hear.|We got a lot of giveaways,

and we've got a world premiere|for you this morning.

Dr. Dre and Snoop Dog|world premiere.

Do not touch the dial,

it is Westside Radio banging|through your speakers.

California love, y'all,|Julio G.

( soul music playing )

- ( knocking on door )|- Sean: Dee!

Hey!

Nigga,|you ain't going to work?

Yeah,|I'm going to work, cuz.

I'm just weak at the knees.|I need an hour worth of rest.

I'm gonna head up|to the unemployment office.

None of them white folks|ain't fixin' to do sh*t for you.

Quit bullshitting|and come down to The Wash.

That don't sound like|a bad idea.

Think I might roll up here|and see what they're talking about.

All right, cuz, in a minute.

Yeah... look like y'all had|more fun than I did.

Little sh*t!

- ( knocking on door )|- Sean: What is it?

Three day notice?

Sh*t!

- Hey!|- I said no!

Nigga, stop, damn!

Get your ass up.|It's time to go.

Leave me alone, Sean.|Leave me alone.

Wastin' my goddamn money.

B*tch.

Sean:
Motherfuckers!

( honking )

YOU WANNA SUE?|Call the Law Offices of Pooh Parker

What's up, bro'?

Hey, give a nigga a ride|or something, man!

Man in car:
You got|some weed?

That's f***ed up!

I gotta get|my sh*t together.

( baby crying )

( chatter )

Excuse me, baby.|Excuse me.

THE WASH:

- Do some freestyle, homie.|- You want my sh*t?

- Yeah.|- All right,

I'll pour my heart out.|All right.

Wisdom, which means|wise words being spoken

Get on the mic and watch|the mic start smokin'--

Hey, hold on.|Ain't that Rakeem rhymes you biting?

Yeah.

No. That's my--|I wrote that.

Nigga, please.

Let me bang y'all something-- ooh!--|real hot right here, man!

This right here's going out|to my homies at The Wash,

'cause I know they're|getting their wash on!

Get my back,|I got this one, all right?

Come on. Come on!

Yo, Juan!

Let's see what|this motherf***er can do.

( rap music playing )

I don't listen to cops,|my system knocks late night

Everything from my paint|to my registration type

Keep it moving smooth|like I'm skating on ice

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