"Ya know, Kay-r0-line, we got us enough pitchers of liquid on this table to float a Oldsmobile."
"Is that some kind of Chappaquiddick crack?"
"Whaddyou know about crack, baby momma?"
"I know a crack's what you got your fanny in over Tawana Brawley."
"Oh yeah? Well crack-uh me this, cracker. Don't be putting the Doritos back into the basket after you done be touchin' 'em all up."
"I'm not putting a Dorito back, you idiot. I'm going for the handgun under the garlic toast."
"You oughtta luck, ofay. The chef be's a homie o' mine, and he done put that istolpay down the ashtray."
"Ashtray? Trash don't come out too good in pig latin, does it Al?"
"Little white trash like you won't come out too good without my peeps stuffin' the ballot box for you neither."
"That's right. Now, pass me the sugar."
"One lump or two?"