Episode 8 of the series. Hope you enjoy the game as much as I do. GTA San Andreas, the game that is in my top 5.
Hey, Ryder! This nigga’s loaded… Ryder! Yeeaahh, CJ… Hey, CJ, tell me why I didn’t finish high school. Because you been dealing drugs, man, since the age of ten! No, that ain’t it. Because you went and put hands on that teacher for wearing Ballas colors! No, that ain’t it either. It’s ’cause I’m too intelligent for this s*it, man. I am the real deal, fool. Oh yeah. A genius. Oh, oh yeah… Who has more straps than anybody? Who has all the straps, huh? A man with a lot of guns? s*it, I give up! The army, my nigga, the army! Let’s go. You think you can roll this van without killing us both? Just shut up and get in. Hey, CJ, you ain’t punking out on us again, are you? C’mon CJ, we ain’t got all day! Get in and drive, motherf*cker! Hey, Ryder, where we going? Ocean Docks. How we get this van? It wasn’t outside when I came through. My homie LB, he’s like a clockwork ninja! Real dependable. Unlike some of you motherf*ckers… Give it a rest, man. I lost my little brother and now I lost my Moms. Don’t matter how much s*it this city throws at you, CJ, you gotta stick by yo’homies! Yeah, I guess… This is the spot – National Guard Depot. Man, this s*it look real serious. Are we up for this? It’s National Guard, fool! Weekend soldiers! Ain’t no match for Grove Street OGs! Now get in there and open the damn gate! Go open the motherf*cking gate, CJ! Get over that wall and open the damned gate! Man, just shoot the switch next to the damn gate! Nice job, CJ, thought that was a suicide mission for sure! Now open the warehouse and keep these motherf*ckers busy! OK, we’re in, move it, Ryder! Yeah, open for business. Back that van up in here. Get out the damned way, CJ! Quit trying to kill yourself under the van! You want me to run you down, just say so! OK, homie, let’s load this s*it up! I’ll watch our backs while you use the forklift to collect the crates. Drop ’em at the back of the van and I’ll load ’em up. C’mon, CJ, we don’t have all day! Get a move on, CJ! s*it’s getting hot, get a move on! Giddy up, CJ! What you playing at, CJ? Hey, quit smashing the crates! We need those crates, CJ! There’s more outside! They got more crates outside, CJ! s*it, CJ! s*it! CJ, help me, motherf*cker! There’s too many damned weekend soldiers! They’re crawling out the woodwork! Punk-ass National Guard! Gimme a hand, CJ, I’m swamped! OK, CJ, let’s roll! CJ, get up front and drive us outta here! You got the con, CJ, take us out! C’mon, CJ, we got enough! They got a storage garage up in Willowfield! GO! LB’s got us a spot in Willowfield – hit the gas! Damn, man, these idiots just don’t give up! What’s happening back there? These part time soldiers got a chip on their shoulders! Nice rhymes, man. Hey, we’re real heavy, toss some crates! A’ight, check it out. Sound the horn, I’ll throw a crate at ’em. Where you going? Buster! BUSTER! Man, I knew you was a buster all along! You ain’t changed, CJ. Buster! Still a busta! I ain’t throwing no more, we gotta keep some! Sorry, CJ, but we gotta keep some of these crates! I ain’t rolling with you no more, man, ’til you off that water, homie. It mess with your mind. Whatever you say, fool. You don’t know what’s going on. And what that mean? I ain’t listening to no more of your bulls*it. We got the guns. You ain’t no gangster, homie. You want it smooth? You don’t want no trouble. I keep it real. You wouldn’t know real if it came and hit you in your cheeks, homie, which it could do, if it gave you a hit first. I ain’t listening to you, Carl. That s*it was tight! Tight? Man, that s*it was s*it. Man, you say you down for the homies, but all you do is complain. Here, man, take your cut and get the f*ck out of here!