Hope you find your way down Compton Avenue, motherfucker!

Insurance Man:

It's gotta be in excellent working condition, all right? Insurance company won't give you no money for a car that doesn't run. Ca-can you hang with this? Chauncy:
Yeah, I'll hook you up. Be here tomorrow night at about, uh, about ten-thirty. Insurance Man:
I'm-I'm sorry. Did you? Are you sure you mean tomorrow night? Chauncy:
D-d-do I stutter, motherfucker? Insurance Man:
No, No problem. Tomorrow night. That's fine. Chauncy:
Did I stutter, motherfucker? Insurance Man:
No, You're right. Chauncy:
What? You scared to come through this neighborhood at night, motherfucker? Huh? Insurance Man:
[timidly]
No problem. Chauncy:
You ain't too scared to have a black man steal for your funky ass, are you? Insurance Man:
You're right. Chauncy:
Man, get the fuck out of here? Don't bring your narrow ass up in here no more! Go on back to Westwood where you belong! [the Insurance Man runs away] Chauncy:
Hope you find your way down Compton Avenue, motherfucker!