A young hairdresser justice (Lisa Bonet) in a small salon living in south central writes her poems to get through grief and violence after losing his boyfriend, as for the mailman lucky (Tupac Shakur) who's taking care of his daughter, his spirit wa...
Lucky: Nah, fuck that shit! Aight, I'm not fuckin wit 101st no more! I told that lady about them dogs, she ignore me! The bitch want the mail, she gotta come here and get it her damn self man! Manager: Did you not once consider using your mace? Lucky: Mace? That shit is like Bianca on Rottweilers, y'all don't even pay me enough to go through this shit! Manager: So you're saying you don't want your job? Lucky: Here you go! Chicago and a Mexican E.J. are playing darts in the mailman ZIP code area. Chicago: You see that? Tore that muthafuckaz nose up. E.J.: Right in the middle man, just like Robin Hood eh. Chicago: What's happening? Lucky: Y'all wanna get y'all asses to work before you get fired? Chicago: Fuck u aight. Lucky: What's up Soulja? Chicago: What's happening? Lucky: Shit, can't call it. Chicago: I'm callin it dude. Lucky: What? Chicago: They trippin on me man. Lucky: What? Chicago: They put two more buddaheads on the mail carrier before me man. Lucky: Again? Chicago: Got me sorting with these fuckin Mexicans. E.J.: Chicago, why you gotta talk about Mexicans? I'll kick your ass. Chicago: Tell you what, you better quit that smoking at lunch time. E.J.: At least we got our own country eh. Chicago: Yeah, well why the fuck y'all keep sneaking out then? Lucky and Chicago busted out laughing. E.J.: That shit is funny to you huh?
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Lucky mocks E.J. speaking Spanish. E.J.: Basketball playing muthafuckerz. Chicago: Yo im gonna go to oak town you wanna go? Lucky: Hell yeah. Oak town? Chicago: You gon bring a yamp? Lucky: Here you go, you gon bring a yamp? Chicago: Got mines nigga. E.J.: Yamp? What the fuck is a yamp? Lucky: A young tramp. Now do you mind, essay? Can you get back to work? Don't worry about what the players is talkin about, ok? E.J.: Why don't you two go have your yamps, corn bread, ham hocks, or whatever else you eat. Get on outta here man. Lucky: Man get the zip codes right essay! Chicago: Fix that shit. Lucky: If we gonna do this, have that crazy hoe you fuck with hook me up with one of her partners. Chicago: I'm gon hook you up. Lucky: You always say that, hook me up. Chicago: You called your cousin? Lucky: Not yet, but I got to. We suppose to find our way up there anyway for our music thing. Now it's like I'm getting paid to go, I'm straight with that. See you later. Chicago: Where you going? Lucky: I'm black muthafucka, minding my business. Lucky takes a cab home, he gets out the the cab, notices his homie Lloyd across the street.
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