Nov. 19, 2025
Swoop, you see this fool ridin’ dirty with one taillight out? Bet money he got warrants longer than your rap sheet.
Man, you been lookin' up my record, mother f*cker?
F*ck you mean, Cris?
Quit playin' with me, fool. Just flip them lights.
F*ckin' white boy.
F*ck is it with you callin' me white all the time?
I'm a nigga, I do what I want.
License and registration. And kill that mariachi music, sounds like the trumpet player is havin’ an asthma attack.
Officer, I-I ain’t do nothin’.
Yeah, and my daddy ain't dead. Step out the car, both of y’all. Hands where I can see ‘em.
(whispers over the cruiser wide-eyed) Swoop, you gotta reason to be pulling them out?
Hell yeah I do. Watch this.
This mother f*cker. Get out of the car, sir.
Hmm. You smell that? That ain’t regular weed. That’s that loud mixed with… Febreeze? Cris Call K-9, this ride rankin', bruh.
(on radio) 2-Lincoln-19, roll Greg and Niner to my location, possible narcotics.
Sir, I'm gonna have to ask you to sit down.
Okay. Where at?
On the curb right here. Both of you.
I'm gonna search the whip.
Y'all better hope he don't find nothin'. He's like a bloodhound.
He ain't gonna find nothin'.
Better hope not.
Y’all are lucky, Niner's been bitchin’ all day cuz no action.
Well, we gonna need him, cuz I gotta know what's in that trunk.
Aight. Niner, let's go.
Looky what I found.
Well butter my biscuits. We got us a winner. Niner.
Pop it.
Oh shit—
That ain’t ours! She just— she asked for a ride!
Uhh, Uber Black don’t come with duct tape and a trunk subscription, bro.
Human trafficking and about forty kilos? Y’all done graduated from street thugs to federally fucked. Niner, good boy—here's your reward.
Swoop… good call on the stop, man.
I told you, man. I ain’t no cracker in some uniform. I know my s*it.
Aight, Swoopty-doo.
Y’all I'm out. Sun’s gettin’ low, and I still gotta feed Niner before he goes on strike again.
Greg, Good lookin’.
I know I am.
You know we could call a different K-9 unit, right?
But, then I don't get my bonus.
Yeah, f*ck out of here…