Dr. Lee: I don't know what beef is between you, but you'd better grill it up and eat it, because it is my ass that is on the line.
Sean: I've had it with your no talent, wannabe gangster ass! You wanna prove once and for all that I'm better than you? Strap up!
Devon: Bring it on, big brother tin man!
James: Somebody need to give that brother a shot of cognac or something cause for the past four yearsat he BET classic, Morris Brown been spankin that ass, spankin that ass.
Jason: Hey, Charles what's up with your socks man?
Charles: Don't worry about my socks man, it's a tuba thang shorty.
Jason: Better be.
Sean: You're the best, Devon! But when we're on the field, nobody hears you! They hear the band.
Dr. Lee: Mr. Miles, I guess you didn't like the required piece as written.
Devon: Naw, I just thought I'd add a little somethin' somethin' on the end.
Devon: I can't really read music.
Mr. Wade: Oh, that's all right, son. Some people can't read the sign that says "toilet". Doesn't mean they don't know how to use it.
Dr. Lee: Okay, the radio is off now. Time for the real music.
Diedre: Hey Devon, ya know, if you keep messing up, Ernest actually might get a chest.
Ernest: And Diedre might get strong enough to pick up a hot comb.
Dr. Lee: Hit 'em with a little Flight Of The Bumblebee!
Devon: They don't tell you about all this when they recruit you.