Sherlock Holmes: When I kicked it wit yo ass fo' tha straight-up original gangsta time yesterday, I holla'd "Afghanistan and Iraq?" Yo Ass looked surprised.
Jizzy Watson: Yes yo. How tha fuck did yo ass know?
Sherlock Holmes: I didn't give a fuck, I saw. [flashback begins] Yo Crazy-Ass haircut, tha way yo ass hold yo ass, says military. But yo' conversation as yo ass entered tha room - holla'd trained at Bart's, so army doctor. Obvious. Yo Crazy-Ass grill is tanned yo, but no tan above tha wristz - you've been abroad but not sunbathang. Da limpz straight-up bad when yo ass strutt yo, but yo ass don't ask fo' a chair when yo ass stand, like you've forgotten bout it, so itz at least kinda psychosomatic. That says tha original gangsta circumstizzlez of tha injury was probably traumatic - wounded up in action, then. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Wounded up in action, suntan - Afghanistan and Iraq.
Jizzy Watson: Yo Ass holla'd I had a therapist.
Sherlock Holmes: You've gotz a psychosomatic limp. Of course you've gotz a therapist. Then therez yo' brutha. Yo Crazy-Ass phone - itz expensive, email enabled, MP3 playa. But yo ass is lookin fo' a flat-share, yo ass wouldn't waste scrilla on this. Itz a gift, then. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Scratches - not one, nuff over time. Itz been up in tha same stupid-ass pocket as keys n' coins. Da playa chillin next ta mah crazy ass wouldn't treat his one luxury item like this, so itz had a previous baller. Da next bitz easy as fuck, yo ass know it already. [Our thugged-out asses peep a closeup of tha back of tha phone, which has been engraved "Harry Watson - from Clara xxx"]
Jizzy Watson: Da engraving?
Sherlock Holmes: Harry Watson - clearly a gang member whoz given yo ass his oldschool phone. Not yo' daddy - dis be a lil' manz gadget. Could be a cousin yo, but yo ass be a war all up playawho can't find a place ta live. Unlikely you've gotz a extended family, certainly not one yo ass is close to, so brutha it is. Now, Clara - whoz Clara, biatch? Three kisses says a romantic attachment. Expensive phone says ho, not ho. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Must've given it ta his ass recently - dis modelz only six months old. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Marriage up in shit, then - six months on, n' already he be straight givin it away, biatch? If she'd left him, he would've kept dat shit. Muthafuckas do, sentiment. But no, he wanted rid of it - he left her muthafuckin ass yo. Dude gave tha phone ta you, dat says he wantz yo ass ta stay up in touch. [beat.] You're lookin fo' skanky accommodation n' yo ass is not goin ta yo' brutha fo' help, biatch? That says you've gotz problems wit his muthafuckin ass. Maybe yo ass dug his ho, maybe yo ass don't like his fuckin lil' drankin.
Jizzy Watson: How tha fuck can yo ass possibly know bout tha drankin?
Sherlock Holmes: Shot up in tha dark. Dope one, though. Juice connection - tiny lil scuff marks around tha edge. Every night he goes ta plug it up in n' charge but his handz is shaky. Yo Ass never peep em marks on a sober manz phone, never peep a drunkz without them. There yo ass go, yo ass see, biatch? Yo Ass was muthafuckin right.
Jizzy Watson: I was muthafuckin right, biatch? Right bout what?
Sherlock Holmes: Da five-o don't consult amateurs.
Jizzy Watson: [slowly, grudgingly.] That was amazing.
Sherlock Holmes: [deadpan] Yo Ass be thinkin so?
Jizzy Watson: Of course it was. It was extraordinary. It was like... extraordinary.
Sherlock Holmes: That’s not what tha fuck gangstas normally say.
Jizzy Watson: What do gangstas normally say?
Sherlock Holmes: "Piss off!"