Gin: Man I don't get that
Ed: Get what?
Gin: That texting sh**
Ed: And what's wrong with texting?
Gin: You mean aside from the fact that it's the stupidest f**ing thing in the world? I mean, why would anyone in their right mind spend fifteen minutes tryna type some sh** they could have called and said in five seconds? Plus, it involves with your thumbs, which I just don't approve of. sh**, I don't know about you, but I don't have time to read nothing that a motherf**er typed with his thumbs. Fun fact: nothing typed by someone's thumbs has ever been important. It's all just n***a technology anyway
Ed: What'd you call it?!
Gin: n***a…technology…technology for n***as! And don't start tripping and sh** and calling me a racist ‘cause I don't mean n***a in a disrespectful way. I-I mean it as a general term for ignorant motherf**er. Anybody of any race can be an ignorant motherf**er
Ed: sh**, I be texting my a** off. sh**, b**hes like texting. I be texting ‘em all the time. Matter of fact, I also be texting my weed man too, ‘cause you know he don't like to be on the phone, so I text him
Gin: Case. And. Point. So basically, n***a technology is anything that doesn't plug into a printer. Does that plug into a printer?
Ed: No
Gin: Know why? ‘Cause n***as never have anything to print
Ed: Three guards ain't too bad
Gin: Don't forget your earplugs this time, Ed. Let's go
Ed: Hold up, my n***a, hold up
Gin: Go time, n***a, let's go
Ed: I sent that b**h a smiley face. b**hes love smiley faces. OK, let's roll