Robbing Uncle Sam/Script
The following is a script of the Robbing Uncle Sam mission in Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas.
Script
(Grove Street Families gangster Lance "Ryder" Wilson is resting in the backyard, heavily dosed on PCP, when protagonist Carl "CJ" Johnson, his childhood friend, arrives to check him out.)
CJ: Hey, Ryder! This nigga's loaded... Ryder!
Ryder: (awakens) Yeeaahh, CJ... Hey, CJ, tell me why I didn't finish high school.
CJ: Because you been dealing drugs, man, since the age of ten!
Ryder: No, that ain't it.
CJ: Because you went and put hands on that teacher for wearing Ballas colors!
Ryder: No, that ain't it either. It's 'cause I'm too intelligent for this shit, man. I am the real deal, fool. Oh yeah. A genius.
CJ: Oh, oh yeah...
Ryder: Who has more straps than anybody? Who has all the straps, huh?
CJ: A man with a lot of guns? Shit, I give up.
Ryder: The army, my nigga, the army! Let's go.
CJ: Yeah... Yeah!
Ryder: Go hit the wet, nigga.
CJ: Get that outta my face, man.
Ryder: Go hit the wet!
CJ: You know I don't fuck with that, man. C'mon!
Ryder: (as Carl pushes him away) Busta!
(Carl and Ryder board a van.)
Ryder: You think you can roll this van without killing us both?
J: Hey, Ryder, where we going?
Ryder: Ocean Docks.
CJ: How we get this van? It wasn't outside when I came through.
Ryder: My homie LB, he's like a clockwork ninja! Real dependable. Unlike some of you motherfuckers...
CJ: Give it a rest, man! I lost my little brother, and now I lost my Moms.
Ryder: Don't matter how much shit this city throws at you, CJ, you gotta stick by your homies!
CJ: Yeah, I guess...
(They arrive at the destination.)
Ryder: This is the spot - National Guard Depot.
CJ: Man, this shit look real serious. Are we up for this?
Ryder: It's National Guard, fool! Weekend soldiers! Ain't no match for Grove Street OGs!
(Soldier spots Carl as he tries to break in.)
Soldier: Hey, stop where you are!
(The gate opens as Carl shoots at the padlock.)
Ryder: Nice job, CJ, thought that was a suicide mission for sure!
(Ryder goes inside.)
Ryder: Quit trying to kill yourself under the van! Now open the warehouse and keep these motherfuckers busy!
(Carl opens the warehouse.)
CJ: OK, we're in, move it, Ryder! Open for business, back that van up in here.
(Ryder maneuvers the van, and gets out.)
Ryder: I'll watch our backs while you use the forklift to collect the crates. OK, homie, let's load this shit up!
(Once crates inside the warehouse are stocked up, Ryder might call for more.)
Ryder: They got more crates outside, CJ!
(Once six crates have been stocked up, Ryder gets at the back of the van.)
Ryder: C'mon, CJ, we got enough! CJ, get up front and drive us outta here.
(While they are in the van, two Patriots give chase to Carl and Ryder.)
Ryder: LB's got us a spot in Willowfield - hit the gas! Damn, man, these idiots just don't give up!
CJ: What's happening back there?
Ryder: These part time soldiers got a chip on their shoulders!
CJ: Nice rhymes, man! Hey, we're real heavy, toss some crates!
Ryder: A'ight, check it out. Sound the horn, I'll throw a crate at 'em.
(Later, while still in the van, they start having a heated argument about Ryder's addiction to PCP.)
CJ: I ain't rolling with you no more, man, 'til you off that water, homie. It mess with your mind.
Ryder: Whatever you say, fool. You don't know what's going on.
CJ: And what that mean?
Ryder: I ain't listening to no more of your bullshit. We got the guns. You ain't no gangster, homie. You want it smooth? You don't want no trouble. I keep it real.
CJ: 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.
Ryder: I ain't listening to you, Carl.
(Once they have arrived at the lockup over Emmet's place in Willowfield, the two decide to part ways.)
Ryder: That shit was tight.
CJ: Tight? Man, that shit was shit.
Ryder: Man, you say you're down for the homies, but all you do is complain.