I’m thinkin’ maybe it means you’re the evil man, and I’m the righteous man, and Mr. 9-millimeter here, he’s the shepherd protecting my righteous ass in the valley of darkness. Or it could mean, you’re the righteous man, and I’m the shepherd, and it’s the world that’s evil and selfish. Now, I’d like that. But that s*** ain’t the truth. The truth is, you’re the weak and I’m the tyranny of evil men. But I’m tryin’, Ringo. I’m tryin’ real hard to be the shepherd.
When you yell at me, it makes me nervous. When I get nervous, I get scared. And when motherf*****s get scared, that’s when motherf*****s accidentally get s*ot.
Pigs sleep and root in s***. That’s a filthy animal. I ain’t eatin’ nothin’ ain’t got sense enough to disregard its own feces.
Normally, both your a**es would be dead as f*****g fried chicken, but you happen to pull this s*** while I’m in a transitional period so I don’t wanna kill you, I wanna help you. But I can’t give you this case, it don’t belong to me. Besides, I’ve already been through too much s*** this morning over this case to hand it over to your dumb a**.
I wouldn’t go so far as to call the brother fat. I mean, he got a weight problem. What’s a n***er gonna do? He’s Samoan.
You’re judging this s*** the wrong way. I mean, it could be God stopped the bullets, or He changed Coke to Pepsi, He found my f*****’ car keys. You don’t judge s*** like this based on merit. Now, whether or not what we experienced was an according-to-Hoyle miracle is insignificant. What is significant, is I felt the touch of God. God got involved.