Baby: I bet all the girls wanna fuck you.
Roy Sullivan: Would you say that again?
Baby: I bet all the girls wanna fuck you.
[mutual laughter] Roy Sullivan: Do you kiss your mama with that mouth?
Baby: Trust me, fella. That ain't the only thing I do with this mouth.
Captain Spaulding: I'm gonna have to be taking your car today. See I have some top secret clown business that supersedes any plans that you might have for this here vehicle.
[mutual laughter] Susan: What's that about clown business?
[laughs nervously] Captain Spaulding: [pause] Do I stutter, bitch?
Billy Ray Snapper: Yeah no problem. Shit always seems to come our way, Chief.
Sheriff John Wydell: Yeah maybe if you keep your mouth open long enough you can catch it all.
Sheriff John Wydell: Alright, here are those names you wanted.
Rondo:[Chuckling]These are some funny ass names.
Sheriff John Wydell: Yeah look who's fuckin' talking Rondo.
Charlie Altamont: Oh...yeah! Lord have mercy!! What a mornin'!! Clevon!!
Clevon: Yeah boss?
Charlie Altamont: You know why I come here to get these chickens?
Clevon: No boss.
Charlie Altamont: 'Cuz my brother makes the best fried chicken in the world!
Clevon: Is that right?
Charlie Altamont: (to Darrell) Yeah, good mornin' good mornin' good mornin' good mornin' sir! How are ya!
Darrell: How're you all doin? G'morning.
Charlie Altamont: Good, good, good, whatcha got for me?
Darrell: We got these, uh, real cute barred rock chickens.
Charlie Altamont: Yeah! I see it!
Darrell: Some nice, long-legged Rhode Island Reds.
Charlie Altamont: RHODE ISLAND RED!! I like that, huh! I want a Rhode Island red for me, all right? Two of 'em.
Darrell: Rhode Island Red...two. (long pause, scratches his nose) Now ya'll ain't planning on fuckin' these chickens are ya?
Charlie Altamont: (after a long pause) What the fuck are you getting at? Do you fuck chickens?
Darrell: Well, I thought about fuckin' some chickens before, eh? If you want to have a good time and you need some pussy, you can (motions with his hands) cut that chicken's head off, stick yo' dick in the ass of that chicken, and that damn chicken'll go crazy on your ass and go "Caaaaah".
Charlie Altamont: Are you saying that I would cut off a chicken's head, put my dick in it, fuck it...and go "Aah"? You accuse me of fucking a chicken, motherfucker?
Darrell: Nah, I ain't--I ain't callin' you a chicken fucker but...that boy over there looks se--sexually frustrated, and I don't approve of chicken fucking.
Clevon: Did you hear what he called me, Boss? I ain't--he called me a fucking chicken fucker!
Darrell: I didn't say--
Charlie Altamont: Go back and grab the fuckin' chickens, Clevon!! (to Darrell) Here, five.
Darrell: Appreciate it...thank y'all.
Clevon: Chickenf--He's a chicken fucker!!!
Charlie Altamont: It's all right. Put 'em back there. Next time we go someplace else.
Clevon: We ain't never buying chickens from him again, boss!!
Charlie Altamont: Yeah, I know.
Clevon: (yelling back to Darrell) You inbred! Inbred!!

[Otis and Baby invade a motel room, taking hostages] Baby: Holy shit, check out that jacket.
Otis: What jacket?
Baby: On the TV.
Otis: Bitch fuck the TV!
Baby: Hey, fuck you!
Otis: Fuck you, will you just pay attention to the business at hand here!
Marty Walker: That goddamn fucking Elvis Presley
Sheriff John Wydell: What did you say about the King?
Marty Walker: I said he died three days before Grouch...
[Wydell grabs Walker] Sheriff John Wydell: Son, if you ever say another derogatory word about Elvis Aron Presley in my presence again, I will kick the living shit out of you.
[The rejects are being captured by Wydell] [To Captain Spaulding]:Charlie Altamont: Business is business, baby. Baby: You fucking asshole!
Sheriff John Wydell: She's right Charlie, you are an asshole. Why don't you get back on your fucking horse and ride.

As God is my witness, I have only just begun.

Boy the next word that comes out of your mouth better be some fucking brilliant Mark Twain shit. Cause it's definetly getting chisled on your tombstone.

Candy: What you lookin' at? Otis B. Driftwood: I'm lookin' at you, mama. Candy: Yeah, you see something you like? Otis B. Driftwood: Maybe. I set my standards pretty low, so I'm never disappointed. Candy: Oh I don't disappoint.

Consider me fuckin' Willy fuckin' Wonka! This is my fucking chocolate factory! You got it? My factory!

Daddy grab that bitch!

Do I stutter, bitch?

Dying's not an option, now you stick that back in that gray matter of yours and you make that stick. Cause any other thought's gonna get you cold slab toe tagged, mailed home to your mama in a plastic bag, are we crystal.

From delusion lead me to truth. From darkness lead me to light. From death lead me to eternal life.

Fuck you, will you just pay attention to the business at hand here?

Gentlemen, let's do what God made us to do!

Ha, that's what they all say "Fuck you". Well it ain't gonna save you. It don't scare me none. And it certainly doesn't make you a fuckin' hero!

Hey, if you got a problem with my timeframe, son. You'd best spit it out right now.

Hey, you just be careful, or maybe you get stepped on like a roach.

Holy shit, check out that jacket.