You gotta be kidding me. Come on Martel, I didn't park in your space. No, no. But...

Shane Falco: [Shane parks his truck at the stadium and sees several of the former Sentinels approaching his truck] You gotta be kidding me. Come on Martel, I didn't park in your space. Eddie Martel: No, no. But unfortunately, you did park in La Mont's space. And he's not nearly as lenient as I am. Malcolm La Mont: On three fellas. One, two, three! [the former Sentinels tip over Shane's truck. Shane begins to walk away until Jamal and Andre step up] Andre Jackson: We got this, we got this. Jamal Jackson: Y'all wanna put the car back? Eddie Martel: Gentlemen, this is none of your business. Andre Jackson: Shane's our business. We're the guards. Jamal Jackson: And we protect our quarterback. [the former Sentinels all crack up laughing] Jamal Jackson: Oh, you got jokes. You got jokes. That's your ride right there, ain't it? [Jamal nods at a very expensive looking car] Eddie Martel: Yeah. [Jamal whips out a pistol and shoots at the car, leaving six bullet holes in the windshield] Eddie Martel: That's my windshield, you crazy mother... Jamal Jackson: Put the car back! Malcolm La Mont: Son of a bitch! Jamal Jackson: Son of a bitch? Oh, son of a bitch. Son of a bitch? Son of a bitch? [Jamal shoots the driver side window, shattering it] Eddie Martel: Stop, stop, stop! Come on goddamn it, help me! [Sentinels shove Shane's truck back over] Malcolm La Mont: You're gonna pay for that. Jamal Jackson: No I'm not. Stop messing with my man, and that includes his ride. Matter of fact, wax that muthafucka. Give it a tune up. [as if nothing has happened] Jamal Jackson: Ya ready to go to practice Shane? Shane Falco: Yeah. Let's do that. Andre Jackson: What's that smell? Shane Falco: Wild yam. Andre Jackson: That's nice. That's nice.