Robbing Uncle Sam/Script

From Grand Theft Wiki
Jump to: navigation, search

The following is a script of the Robbing Uncle Sam mission in Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas.


Carl Johnson: Hey, Ryder! This nigga's loaded... Ryder!

Ryder: Yeeaahh, CJ... Hey, CJ, tell me why I didn't finish high school.

Carl Johnson: Because you been dealing drugs, man, since the age of ten!

Ryder: No, that ain't it.

Carl Johnson: 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.

Carl Johnson: Oh, oh yeah...

Ryder: Who has more straps than anybody? Who has all the straps, huh?

Carl Johnson: A man with a lot of guns? Shit, I give up.

Ryder: The army, my nigga, the army! Let's go.

Carl Johnson: Yeah... Yeah!

Ryder: Go hit the wet, nigga.

Carl Johnson: Get that outta my face, man.

Ryder: Go hit the wet!

Carl Johnson: You know I don't fuck with that, man. C'mon!

Ryder: Busta!(not actually in subtitles.)

(While in the van)

Ryder: You think you can roll this van without killing us both?

Carl Johnson: Hey, Ryder, where we going?

Ryder: Ocean Docks.

Carl Johnson: 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...

Carl Johnson: 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!

Carl Johnson: Yeah, I guess...

(They arrive at the destination)

Ryder: This is the spot - National Guard Depot.

Carl Johnson: 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)

Soldier #1: Hey, stop where you are!

(Gate opens)

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)

Carl Johnson: OK, we're in, move it, Ryder!

(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: They got more crates outside, CJ!

(Once six crates have been stocked up)

Ryder: C'mon, CJ, we got enough! CJ, get up front and drive us outta here.

(While in the van)

Ryder: LB's got us a spot in Willowfield - hit the gas! Damn, man, these idiots just don't give up!

Carl Johnson: What's happening back there?

Ryder: These part time soldiers got a chip on their shoulders!

Carl Johnson: 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)

Carl Johnson: 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.

Carl Johnson: 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.

Carl Johnson: 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)

Ryder: That shit was tight.

Carl Johnson: Tight? Man, that shit was shit.

Ryder: Man, you say you're down for the homies, but all you do is complain.