Boyz n the Hood

Doughboy:
Ho's gotta eat too.

Shalika:
Who you callin' a ho', I ain't no ho'.

Doughboy:
Oops, I'm sorry, b*tch.

Doughboy:
Yeah, I heard you been gettin' that dope-head p*ssy. See, me, I probably get more p*ssy than you get air with yo' wannabe macdaddy ass.

Shalika:
Why is it every time you talk about a female you gotta say b*tch, ho, or hootchie?

Doughboy:
'Cause that's what you are.

Officer Coffey:
Something wrong?

Furious Styles:
Something wrong? Yeah. It's just too bad you don't know what it is... *Brother*.

Furious Styles:
Any fool with a dick can make a baby, but only a real man can raise his children.

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.

Shalika:
How do you know God's a he? He can be a she. You don't know that.

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.

Doughboy:
We got a problem here? We got a problem, nigga?

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, b*tch!

Mrs. Baker:
You ain't sh*t. You just like your daddy. You don't do sh*t, and you never gonna amount to sh*t. All you do is eat, sleep, and sh*t.

Tre Styles:
Who dis?

Reva Deveraux:
Boy, what are you talking about, "Who dis?" I know you been raised better than that! Now put your father on the phone.

Furious Styles:
Who dis?

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 sh*t. They didn't have sh*t on my brother, man.

Doughboy:
I heard you like Mr. JQ Smooth now.

Tre Styles:
Yeah, I get a discount on clothes. How do I look?

Doughboy:
You look like you selling rocks.

Doughboy:
Turn your punk ass over!

Doughboy:
Life would be different if God was a b*tch.

Tre Styles:
Man, what the f*** is wrong with you?

Ricky:
What?

Tre Styles:
You're slamming my door like some kind of Gorilla on a football field!

Ricky:
Damn, N*gger! What's wrong with you?

Tre Styles:
Nothing.

Doughboy:
Fool you don't go to college to be talkin' to no b*tches. Your black ass 'posed to be learnin' somethin'. Can't learn sh*t talkin' to no stupid ass b*tch.

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.

Furious Styles:
Rick, it's the Nineties. Can't afford to be afraid of our own people anymore, man.

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 sh*t.

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 sh*t in here.

Mad Dog:
This is an A and B conversation so C your way out before D and E F you up, okay, G?

Furious Styles:
Now I want you to give me the gun.

Furious Styles:
Oh, I get it, you gonna end like Doughboy... like little Chris in a wheelchair.

Furious Styles:
GIVE ME THE MOTHERF***ING GUN, TRE.

Doughboy:
I heard you like Mr. GQ Smooth now. You working over at the Fox Hills Mall?

Tre Styles:
I get a discount on clothes, and sh*t. You like?

Doughboy:
Nigga, you look like you selling rocks!

Chris:
Yo, Tre' you be slinging that sh*t?

Tre Styles:
No, I don't sell that sh*t!

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, b*tch!

Doughboy:
Yeah, I heard you been gettin' that dope-head p*ssy. See, me, I probably get more p*ssy than you get air with yo' wannabe macdaddy ass.

Dooky:
You don't know what I be getting. I don't be f***ing no dopeheads. I let them suck my dick. Sh*t, they got AIDS and sh*t.

Monster:
Stupid motherf***er, don't you know you can catch that sh*t from letting them suck on your dick?

Doughboy:
Thank you.

Dooky:
See. I ain't sick. I ain't all skinny and sh*t.

Chris:
Nigga, what you mean you ain't skinny. Motherf***er so skinny he can hula hoop through a Cheerio. Nigga, you ain't got to be skinny. You can die from that sh*t years from now.

Dooky:
Y'all just trying to scare me. For real, you can die from letting them suck on your dick?

Doughboy:
Mark.

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 sh*t.

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 sh*t in here. 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.

Ferris:
F*** you looking at, nigga?

Ricky:
I'm still trying to find out, Nigga!

Doughboy:
What? We got a problem here? [shows gun] We got a problem?

[Ferris and gang take a step back]

Knucklehead #2:
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, b*tch!

Tre Styles:
I didn't do nothing.

Officer Coffey:
You think you tough? [pulls gun on Tre] Scared now, ain't you? I like that. That's why I took this job. I hate little motherfuckers like you. Little n*ggers, you ain't sh*t! I could blow your head off with this Smith & Wesson and you couldn't do sh*t. Think you tough? What set you from? Look like one of them Crenshaw mafia motherfuckers.

Chris:
I tell y'all where y'all need to go, where they got more women than anywhere. Fine ones, too.

Monster:
Crenshaw, Sunday nights?

Chris:
Nope.

Doughboy:
Street racers on Florence?

Chris:
Nah, nigga. Y'all way off. I give y'all a hint: everybody's been there.

Monster:
Where?

Doughboy:
Where, nigga? Spit it out.

Chris:
The church.

Doughboy:
Aw, sh*t. Nigga, please. Ain't nobody going to church to catch no b*tches. I should roll your ass up off this porch with that stupid sh*t.

Furious Styles (to Tre):
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.

10-Year-Old Tre:
Don't y'all know that this is a dead body?

Ric Rock:
Yeah, motherf***er, we know that sh*t. He ain't bothering you, so don't f*** with him.

10-year-Old Tre:
Who's dat?

10-Year-Old Doughboy:
Dat's my lady, homie. Her name is Brandi.

10-Year-Old Ricky:
Man, she ain't your woman. She my woman.

10-Year-Old-Doughboy:
How can she be yo' woman when she my lady?

10-Year-Old Ricky:
She my wife.

10-Year-Old Doughboy:
She may be your wife, but I stick my ding-a-ling in her every night, so that makes her mine.

10-Year-Old Ricky:
Punk!

10-Year-Old Doughboy:
F*ggot! Get off me wit yo' big 4x4 head!

Tre Styles (to Sheryl):
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.

[Tre walks across the street after stopping at Sheryl's house. Then a red 1988 Hyundai comes up and Tre moves out of the way just in time to avoid getting hit. The car came to a screeching stop and the driver of the car is one of the Bloods gang member name Ferris]

Ferris:
What up punk! What up fool!

[Bloods gang member in the back sit rolls the window down and pointed his sawed off shotgun at Tre to threatned him]

[Tre just stands calmly showing some fear]

[Everyone in the car laughs at Tre's reaction]

Ferris:
Mark! [Drives away laughing as Tre looks on]

Knucklehead #1:
And another thing Ferris, When are you gonna get your hair cut? That sh*t is stripped. It looks like something from 1983, dude.

Ferris:
F*** you Nigga. Ain't nobody cutting my hair, man. I'm like Samson my strength is in my hair.

Knucklehead #1:
[To Knucklehead 2] And you Nigga, what's up with that babe you been talking to?

Knucklehead #2:
Tsk! F*** that b*tch.

Knucklehead #1:
[Laughs]

Ferris:
[To Knucklehead 2] Are you scared?

Knucklehead #1:
Nah, he's not scared, he's just young.

Ferris:
And dumb.

Ferris:
[Squirts a whole lot of ketchup on his french fries] I'm putting some ketchup on this motherf***er.

Knucklehead #1:
Yeah man, why are you putting all that ketchup on it?

Ferris:
[Chuckles] Why are you worried about it, fool? These my fries.

[Doughboy kicks Ferris in his bullet-ridden legs]

Ferris:
F*** you man! F*** you!

Doughboy:
Turn your punk-ass over!

Ferris:
[Rolls over] I didn't do it man! I didn't pull the f***in' trigger! What the f*** you doin? Oh, man! Well, f*** you! [Doughboy shoots Ferris twice]

Furious Styles:
[referring to drug epidemic] I know every time you turn on the TV that's what you see. Black People, pushing the rock, selling the rock, that's what you see. But see that wasn't a problem as long as it was here. [referring to Compton, Watts, other Black ghettos] It wasn't a problem until it was in Iowa or on Wall Street where there are hardly any black people.

Mrs Baker:
What y'all doing now? Ricky? Oh, my God. Ricky? Ricky, baby, get up. Get up. Wake up, baby. Ricky, get up. Get up. It's all right. Get up, baby. Get up. Tre, what happened? What happened to him? [sees Doughboy] Oh, my God! What did you do to him? What did you do? What did you do? You did this! You did this! I'll kill you! You did it! I know you did it! You did it! Yes, you did! YOU DID IT TO HIM, YOU DID THIS! I told you! I TOLD YOU! My baby! Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, my God! Ricky, baby! Ricky!