Shawn Wayans: Ashtray

Don't Be a Menace to South Central While Drinking Your Juice in the Hood

Ashtray

Ashtray: Hey, Preach, what up nigga?
Preach: Y'all need to stop using the word nigga. You see, it's terms like the word nigga that the white man uses to take away the self esteem of another race.
Ashtray: Word.
Preach: Oh yeah, remind me to pick my laundry up from that chink motherfucker up the street.

Ashtray: We didn't even do nothing.
Officer Self Hatred: What? You think you tough?
[pulls gun on Ashtray]
Officer Self Hatred: You ain't so tough now, little nigga. I hate your black bastards, you *stink*! I hate your black skin. I hate your black pants. I hate black pepper. I hate black keys on a piano. I hate my gums, because they're black. I hate Whoopi Goldberg's *lips*. I hate the back of Forrest Whittaker's neck. Huh? Most of all, I hate that black-ass Wesley Snipes.

Ashtray: It hurt me to wake up and see my beautiful black people suffer, victimized by the oppressive, harsh realities of the hood. I guess, even though we were free, we were still slaves... in the mind.
Mailman: Message.

Ashtray: You know, it's kinda tough - growin' up in the hood without a - without a positive male role model to look up to.
Mailman: Message.

Ashtray: Having a gun doesn't give you any power. You wanna know where the real power is?
Doo Rag: In the bullets!
Ashtray: No! In The books! See, Doo Rag, your mind - it is like a gun, and you wanna load it up with little... bitty... bullets... of knowledge.
Mailman: [as a baby in a crib] Message!

Ashtray: So, will I see you again?
Ashtray's Mother: Sorry, baby: you know there ain't no positive black females in these movies.

Ashtray: [Drunk Party Girl downs whole bottle of alcohol] Damn girl you need to slow down.
Drunk Party Girl: You ain't my daddy... You ain't payin' none of my bills... Mind ya business... Ooh, this my song
[falls and faints to the ground]
Drunk Party Girl: .

Ashtray: [about Dashiki] She wants me.
Loc Dog: Why you keep wasting your time with that trick? Tellin' you, you need someone with some class. Someone you can take home to step-mama. You know what I'm trying to say? Get yourself a real woman.
[he looks across the yard at a woman who is guzzling an entire forty]
Loc Dog: A real woman. Hey, Tray, you see that bitch over there?
Ashtray: I see her.
Loc Dog: Now, *that's* a lady. I bet you I can get her number.
Ashtray: Nigga, you ain't getting nobody's number.
Loc Dog: Fool, watch me.
[walks over to the woman and smiles at her]
Loc Dog: Hey, sweetheart.
[pulls his gun out of his waistband and points it at her head]
Loc Dog: Break you'self! Gimme your goddamn number! Come on! Hurry up! Come on!
[she frantically writes her number down and gives it to him; he lowers his gun]
Loc Dog: Cool, cool, cool. So, um, I'm gonna give you a call about 5:00 all right?
[when she doesn't respond, he points the gun at her head again]
Loc Dog: I said, all right?
A.K.: Y-Y-Yeah, yeah.
Loc Dog: All right, sweetheart. Take care of yourself, all right?
[he walks away and holds up the number so Ashtray can see it]
Loc Dog: I told you I'd get her number!

Ashtray: Loc Dog was America's worst nightmare, raised in a house with three generations of hopelessness, poverty... and profanity.
Loc Dog's Mom: Loc Dogg, turn that loud ass mothafuckin music down, you wakin up the fuckin babies, mothafucka. This still my mothafuckin house, mothafucka...
Loc Dog's Mom: Who tha fuck is that on my porch?