Boyz n the Hood (1991)
Furious Styles: Why is it that there is a gun shop on almost every corner in this community?
The Old Man: Why?
Furious Styles: I'll tell you why. For the same reason that there is a liquor store on almost every corner in the black community. Why? They want us to kill ourselves.
Furious Styles: Any fool with a dick can make a baby, but only a real man can raise his children.
Officer Coffey: Something wrong?
Furious Styles: Something wrong? Yeah. It's just too bad you don't know what it is... *Brother*.
Doughboy: Fool you don't go to college to be talkin' to no bitches. Your black ass 'posed to be learnin' somethin'. Can't learn shit talkin' to no stupid ass bitch.
Chris: Fool, I wasn't even talking to you. This is a A-B conversation, you know... you can "C" your way out of it.
Doughboy: Yeah, you can "C" your way out my ride, and we'll "C" your cripple ass walking all the way home.
Doughboy: Yeah, I heard you been gettin' that dope-head pussy. See, me, I probably get more pussy than you get air with yo' wannabe macdaddy ass.
Dooky: You don't know what I be getting. I don't be fucking no dopeheads. I let them suck my dick. Shit, they got AIDS and shit.
Monster: Stupid motherfucker, don't you know you can catch that shit from letting them suck on your dick?
Doughboy: Thank you.
Dooky: See. I ain't sick. I ain't all skinny and shit.
Chris: Nigga, what you mean you ain't skinny. Motherfucker so skinny, he can hula hoop through a Cheerio. And you ain't got to be skinny or sick, you can die five years from now from that shit.
Dooky: Y'all just trying to scare me... for real, can you really die from lettin em suck on yo dick?
[Tre answers the phone]
Tre Styles: Who dis?
Reva Deveraux: Who dis? What kind of way is that to answer the phone? Have you given anymore thought to what we talked about?
Tre Styles: Yeah... I don't know yet.
Reva Deveraux: Let me speak to yo daddy.
Tre Styles: POP! Telephone.
Furious Styles: Who dis?
Furious Styles: Rick, it's the Nineties. Can't afford to be afraid of our own people anymore, man.
Tre Styles: Hey, Dough!
Tre Styles: You still got one brother left, man.
Doughboy: Thanks, man... Later, G.
Tre Styles: Later.
Doughboy: Yo, cuz, I know why you got outta the car last night... shouldn't have been there in the first place. You don't want that shit to come back to haunt you. I ain't been up this early in a long time. I turned on the TV this morning, they had this shit on about... about living in a violent world. Showed all these foreign places... I started thinking, man, either they don't know, don't show, or don't care about what's going on in the hood. Man, all this foreign shit, and they didn't have shit on my brother, man.
Doughboy: I ain't got no brother. Got no mother, either. She loved that fool more than she loved me.
Sheryl: [running up to the porch] Doughboy! You got some blow? Got some rock?
Doughboy: Yo, get the fuck out my face! Keep them goddamn babies out the street!
Tre Styles: [Sheryl leaves] Did y'all get 'em?
Doughboy: [wipes his eyes and looks at Tre. Tre shakes his head] I'ont even know how I feel about it, neither, man. It just goes on and on, you know. Next thing you know, somebody might try and smoke me. Don't matter, doe. We all gotta go sometime, huh?
[complaining about TV news coverage]
Doughboy: Either they don't know, don't show, or don't care about what's going on in the hood. They had all this foreign shit. They didn't have shit on my brother, man.
[Furious has shot at a burglar]
Furious: Somebody must have been praying for that fool, cause I swear I aimed right for his head.
Tre Age 10: You should have blew it off.
Furious Styles: Don't say that. Don't say that. Just would've contributed to the killing of another brother.
Furious Styles: Now I want you to give me the gun.
[Tre does not hand the gun to his father]
Furious Styles: Oh, I get it, you gonna end like Doughboy... like little Chris in a wheelchair.
[Tre still doesn't respond]
Furious Styles: GIVE ME THE MOTHERFUCKING GUN, TRE.
Tre Styles: I didn't do nothing.
Officer Coffey: You think you tough?
[pulls gun on Tre]
Officer Coffey: Scared now, ain't you? I like that. That's why I took this job. I hate little motherfuckers like you. Little niggers, you ain't shit! I could blow your head off with this Smith & Wesson and you couldn't do shit. Think you tough? What set you from? Look like one of them Crenshaw mafia motherfuckers.
Ricky: Hey D, why don't you go to the store for me.
Doughboy: Nigga, I ain't the one she told to go get it, its yo wife.
Ricky: Look man, she ain't my wife.
Doughboy: She may as well be, Y'all got a family and all.
Tre Styles: [knocking on Sheryl's door] Sheryl! Come on!
Tre Styles: Keep your baby off the street. She gonna get hit one of these days.
Sheryl: You got some blow? You got some rock? I'll suck your dick.
Tre Styles: Just keep the baby off the streets! And change her diapers! They almost smell as bad as you.
Doughboy: Man your pops is like, mothafuckin, Malcolm... Farrakhan.
Tre Age 10: Don't y'all know that this is a dead body?
Ric Rock: Yeah, motherfucker, we know that shit. He ain't bothering you, so don't fuck with him.
Ricky: [scratching lotto ticket] Damn, nothin'.
Tre Styles: What?
Ricky: Nothin'. I said I didn't win nothin'.
Tre Styles: You gotta be Mexican to win that shit.
[Doughboy kicks Ferris in his bullet-ridden legs]
Ferris: Fuck you man! Fuck you!
Doughboy: Turn your punk-ass over!
Ferris: I didn't do it man! I didn't pull the fuckin' trigger! What the fuck you doin? Oh, man! Well, fuck you! Fuck you!
[Doughboy shoots Ferris twice]
Shalika: Why is it every time you talk about a female you gotta say bitch, ho, or hootchie?
Doughboy: 'Cause that's what you are.
Tre Styles: I get a discount on clothes, and shit. You like?
Doughboy: Nigga, you look like you selling rocks!
Chris: Yo, Tre' you be slinging that shit?
Tre Styles: No, I don't sell that shit!
Doughboy: You couldn't anyway! Pops will kick yo' ass! You know I'm out the pen. I'm gon' keep my ass out this time.
Tre Styles: That's what we're here to celebrate, right? Damn, brother how did you get so big?
Doughboy: Pumping iron, and eating. Ain't nothing else to do in the motherfucking pen. Three hots, and a cot, know what I'm saying? I was also reading, and writing my girl.
Monster: You read?
Doughboy: Yeah nigga, I ain't no criminal! I can read, bitch!
Tre Styles: [laughing after he breaks down in tears] I never thought I'd be crying in front of a female.
Brandi: You can cry in front of me.
Chris: I tell y'all where y'all need to go, where they got more women than anywhere. Violence too.
Monster: Crenshaw Sunday nights?
Doughboy: Street races on Florence?
Chris: Nah, nigga, y'all way off! I give y'all a hint: Everybody's been there.
Doughboy: Where, nigga? Spit it out!
Chris: The church.
Doughboy: Aw, shit! Nigga, please! Ain't nobody going to church to catch no bitches. I should roll your ass up off this porch with that stupid shit!
Furious Styles: I know every time you turn on the TV, that's what you see. Black people, sellin' the rock, pushin' the rock, pushin' the rock. Yeah, I know. But that wasn't a problem as long as it was here. It wasn't a problem until it was in Iowa, on Wall Street, where there are hardly any black people.
The Old Man: Ain't nobody from outside bringing down the property value. It's these folk, shootin' each other and sellin' that crack rock and shit.
Furious Styles: Well, how you think the crack rock gets into the country? We don't own any planes. We don't own no ships. We are not the people who are flyin' and floatin' that shit in here.
Furious Styles: What'd you use?
Tre Styles: I used the number she gave me... Why you sweating me? I didn't have to use nothing. She said she was on the pill.
Furious Styles: How many times do I have I told you, if a girl says she's on the pill, you use somethin anyway. Pill ain't goin' to keep your dick from falling off. I don't know why you insist on learning things the hard way, but you gon' learn. Oh yeah, you gon' learn. Pick up that hair.
Tre Styles: Man, what the fuck is wrong with you?
Tre Styles: You're slamming my door like some kind of gorilla on a football field!
Ricky: Damn, nigga! What's wrong with you?
Tre Styles: Nothing.
[after all the men shove their way past the women to get to the food first]
Tre Styles: Hey, hey! Why don't you all act like gentlemen and let these ladies eat first.
[He motions to Doughboy for assistance]
Doughboy: Yeah. Y'all act like you ain't never had no barbecue before. The ladies eat. Ho's gotta eat too.
Shalika: Wait a minute, niggah, who you callin' a ho? I ain't no ho!
Doughboy: Oh, I'm sorry bitch.
Mrs. Baker: [She smacks Doughboy] Hey, hey! Watch your mouth.
Doughboy: I'm just playin'!
Doughboy: You know how to play Spades, Dooky?
Dooky: Somethin' like that.
Doughboy: I got somethin' for you to suck on.
Doughboy: We got a problem here? We got a problem, nigga?
[Ferris and gang take a step back]
Ferris: Put the gun away, nigga.
Female Club Member: Can we have one night where there ain't no fightin'; nobody gets shot?
Doughboy: Shut up, bitch!
Mrs. Baker: You ain't shit. You just like your daddy. You don't do shit, and you never gonna amount to shit. All you do is eat, sleep, and shit.
Shalika: How do you know God's a he? He can be a she. You don't know that.
Tre Age 10: Who;s dat?
Doughboy, Age 10: Dat's my lady, homie. Her name is Brandi.
Ricky, Age 10: Man, she ain't your woman. She my woman.
Doughboy, Age 10: How can she be yo' woman when she my lady?
Ricky, Age 10: She my wife.
Doughboy, Age 10: She may be your wife but I stick my ding-a-ling in her every night, so that makes her mine.
Ricky, Age 10: Punk!
Doughboy, Age 10: Faggot!
Ricky, Age 10: Get off me wit yo' big 4 by 4 head!
Ferris: Fuck you looking at, nigga?
Ricky: I'm still trying to find out,
Doughboy: What? We got a problem here?
Doughboy: We got a problem?
Ricky: Fuck you, man...
Doughboy: What? Hey, don't fuck me, fuck your wife. That's why you got a baby now.
Tre Styles: Hey, Dough.
Tre Styles: You still got one brother left, man.
Doughboy: Thanks, man.
Doughboy: I heard you like Mr. GQ Smooth now. You working over at the Fox Hills Mall?
Tre Styles: Yeah, I get discounts on clothes. You like?
Doughboy: You look like you sellin' rocks.
Doughboy, Age 10: Damn, your Daddy mean. He worse than the bogeyman himself. You got to do all these leaves. Who do he think you is? Kunta Kinte? Later, Tre.
Doughboy: You a monster, man. Be cussin' some motherfuckin' line. My Mom don't like that shit.
Ricky: Damn, man. You know, Furious is deep. Did he used to be a preacher or somethin'?
Tre Styles: Nah, he never been no preacher. He just reads a lot.
Ricky: Man, just fuck all that shit, right. I'm going in the fuckin' Army.
Tre Styles: You're going to do what? Man, what are you, a damn fool?
Ricky: Listen, man, as for working with computers and stuff; plus, they can give money for college.
Tre Styles: Listen, you, you sound like the damn commercial. Man, they don't tell, is that you don't belong to you no more. You belong to them! The Government! Like a slave or something.
Furious Styles: Would you two knuckleheads come on. I want you all to take a look at that sign up there. See what it says: cash for your home. Do you know what that is?
Ricky: A billboard.
Tre Styles: A billboard.
Furious Styles: What are you all? Amos and Andy? Are you Stepin and he's Fetchit? I'm talking about he message. What it stands for. It's called gentrification. It's what happens when the property value of a certain area is brought down. You listening? You bring the property value down. They can buy the land at a lower price, then they move all the people out, raise the property value and sell it at a profit. Now, what we need to do is keep everything in our neighborhood, everything - black. Black owned with black money. Just like the Jews, the Italians, the Mexicans and the Koreans do.
Doughboy: Punk muthafucker ain't got nothin' better to do. Twenty-seven years old and still fuckin' muthafuckers our age - with his old ass.
Furious Styles: Tre, what are you doing?
[sees that Tre is holding Furious' Magnum]
Furious Styles: Oh, you bad, now, huh? You bad. You gotta shoot somebody now, huh? Well, here I am. Come on, shoot me. You bad, right? Look, I'm sorry about your friend. My heart goes out to his family, but that's their problem. You my son. You my problem. I want you to give me the gun.
[Tre doesn't move]
Furious Styles: I see. You want to end up like little Chris in a wheelchair? Right? No, no, you want to end up like Doughboy, huh? No? Give me the motherfucking gun, Tre! You're my only son, and I'm not gonna lose you to no bullshit, you hear? I love you, man. Go clean yourself up. Go on.
Bobby - Age 10: I ain't from Africa, I'm from Crenshaw Mafia!
[All of classmates laughing and Tre comes to Bobby]
Tre - Age 10: Like it or not, you're from Africa.
Bobby - Age 10: I ain't from Africa, you from Africa, you african booty scratcher!
[He and all of classmates laughing]
Tre - Age 10: Punk, I'll kick your ass.
[Bobby began to rising from a seat]
Teacher: Okay, boys. That's enough, count to ten and be quiet.
Bobby - Age 10: I'll get my brother and shoot you in the face!
Teacher: Come on! Tre!
Tre - Age 10: Get yo' punk ass brother, bitch! I'll get my daddy! At least, I got one, motherfucker!
Teacher: Tre. That's it, enough.
Bobby - Age 10: Ain't your bitch! And nobody's bitch, Bitch!
Teacher: Bobby! Are you listening to me? Sit down, now!
Tre - Age 10: Fuck you, bitch!
[He began to hits Bobby with a ruler and Bobby began to fighting Tre back]