Arnold "Poet" Jackson and Burr Redding in “A Failure to Communicate”

Yo, what'd you call me? Yo, fuck you, you greasy old bitch.

Burr Redding

Hey, Poet.

Oh, what you think? I don't know where 122 Wayne Street is? Think again, bitch.

Burr Redding

What the fuck's wrong with you, son?

Man, she said she wasn't about to give up her credit card number to some strange spook. How the fuck did she even know I was black?

Burr Redding

That's irrelevant. You hang up and calmly move on to the next call.

No, man, fuck that, I ain't putting my pride on the line so some bullshit Senator can get re-elected.

Burr Redding

Well, in that case, you're fired.

What?

Burr Redding

You heard me. Carry your lazy ass and that bad attitude off the premises! Move it.

Fuck you, Burr. Fuck you.