Prosecution: Your honor I'd like to request this case be dismissed.
Wait. You know my client was a member of the Wu Tang Clan, right?
Judge: Oh boy. Which member?
He was a fan.
Judge: Being a fan doesn't make him a member.
Objection! Speculation.
Judge: Did you just object me?
I'd like to request an immediate Article 41 and move to strike.
Judge: I dont understand, you're striking your own testimony from the record? And theres no such thing as an Article 41.
... yet
Prosecution: Your honor, what are we doing here?
We're invoking my clients right to a speedy trial.
Judge: That's not what we're doing here.
I'd like my client to take the stand.
Corleone: Yo call me a Stan again motherfucker I'll show up to ya crib and ass fuck ya fams in front of ya and wear ya flesh as a turban you wop dyke prick faggot. I know peoples. I know ya IP address. I got ya narrowed down to Antarctica about 80 square miles due East from that polar ice cap that looks like a dime baggy.
I'm standing right next to you.
Corleone: For now. You be lying next time, and I wont even dump ya corpse for tha fishes.
Judge: Do you just threaten your lawyers life in my courtroom, Mr. Corleone?
Corleone: I know people..
That's alls im sayin. Just listen when I say I mean business and respect me and stay quiet. I ain't no joke.
I said take the stand by the way... I didnt call you a Stan.
Corleone: Oh shit sorry fam. I cant believe I got sucked into that. I'm amazed. Let's just get some votes goin. Wheres the jury?
Judge: I dont think a jury would help you, Mr. Corleone.
Corleone: Why?
Judge: Cuz you whack as fuck and lost to Sharp.
Corleone: Yo I OWN Sharp.
Judge: You wasted your best Sharp punchlines in Open Mic... twice. Baliff Bayou, please remove this wannabe from my courtroom.
Baliff Bayou: With pleasure... He about to GET... THESE... HANDS.
Corleone: Yo come near me with those mitts I will fucking shank you.
Baliff Bayou: Yooooo... I dont want that smoke. We cool?
Your honor! We just received some evidence in the form of a text conversation between my client and Sharp. In it, Sharp admits defeat in the battle!
Judge: This is... convenient, counselor. But you may proceed on the basis of pure fucking curiosity. Where did you come upon this new evidence?
We received it from a source.
Judge: Which source?
Lars.
Judge: Is this source reliable?
Oh yeah. Straight as an arrow. Never tries to make shit up to get a DQ win out of desperation.
Judge: What?
We call sraL to the stand!
Judge: I thought you said his name was Lars?
It's complicated. Diablo... please step up.
Judge: Diablo? What... the ... fuck.
Prosecution: I object to this in every possible way...
Da Brayn Lord: I hate my life.
Barcotic: I'll fucking fillet you, you red headed fat fuck, I'll use a hook and toss you in a chorus pond. But that doesn't correspond..
Da Brayn Lord: Anyone have a gun I can use to put me out of my misery?
Universe: Ay if Barc can flip cunt-agin' from contagion I can damn well use Viking-dens...
*Gunshot*
I think some dude just shot himself.
Corleone: That was me. I put that hit out. I got dem shooters everywhere.
Everyone: SHUT THE FUCK UP!
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..Passed the Present and Future..
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