Wallace :
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(eating Chicken McNuggets)Yeah man, these shits is right, yo.
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Poot: | Mmm. Hmm.
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Wallace: | (checking beeper) Mm. Go with the hot sauce too, yo.
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Poot: | Most definitely.
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Wallace: | Yo D, you what some nuggets?
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D'Angelo: | Naw. Go ahead.
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Wallace: | Man, whoever invented these-- yo, he's off the hook.
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Poot: | What?
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Wallace: | (as D'Angelo watches a drug deal in the distance)
Mm. Motherfucker got the bone all the way out the damn chicken. Til he
came along niggas been chewin' on drumsticks and shit, gettin their fingers all
greasy. He said: leave the bone, nugget that meat up and make some real money.
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Poot: | Think the man got paid?
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Wallace: | Who?
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Poot: | The man who invented these?
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Wallace: | Shee.. He's richer than a motherfucker.
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D'Angelo: | Why? You think he get a percentage?
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Wallace: | Why not?
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D'Angelo: | Nigga please. The man who invented them
things just some sad-ass down at the basement of McDonalds, thinkin' up some shit to
make money for the real players.
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Poot: | Naw, man, that ain't right.
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D'Angelo: | Fuck "right." It ain't about "right." It's about money. Now you think Ronald McDonald
gonna go down into that basement and say "Hey Mr. Nugget, you da bomb. We sellin'
chicken faster than you can tear the bone out-- so I'm [g]onna write my clowny-ass
name on this fat-ass check for you." Sh. Man, the nigga who invented them things,
still working in the basement for regular wage, thinking of some shit to make them
fries taste better or some shit like that. Believe.
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Wallace: | Still have the idea though.
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D'Angelo: | (shakes his head, looks away into the distance) Pht...
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