Amanda: Do you think I sleep with every pathetic guy who writes me a letter? No. I give them hand jobs.

Cheerleaders: We are the North Compton Wildcats / We're black, we know it / We shake our big booties and we show it / We ain't white / We ain't white / We definitely ain't white. Break it down, niggas!

English Teacher: (after a student "farts" to say what he thinks about poetry, while several boys are looking into the girls' bathroom upstairs) Oh, is that amusing? Is that what your generation considers...humor? Shakespeare, Moliere, Oscar Wilde--these were humorists! The sublime poetic genius of a clever turn of phrase...that is true comedy! Your modern, moronic, feeble-minded, sophomoric excuse for wit...is merely a parade of nasty...filthy...vulgar...HUMAN EXCREMENT!!! (after several intermittent scenes of the girl defecating in the bathroom and the boys watching, they both fall through the ceiling, and the mess fits the teacher's description)

Girl at Party: Dude, you can't start a slow clap at any time and expect everyone to join in.

Sports Announcer: Damn, those bitches represent!

...
Cheerleader: You better bring it.
Priscilla: Oh, it's already been brought-en.

Catherine: I want you.
Jake: But, you're my sister.
Catherine: Only by blood.
Jake: [shoves Catherine off] What is wrong with this family?!

Janey: I have this dream of one day...just...hopping on a plane and going to Paris. There's an art school there...but I can't afford it. Unless there's some way of raising $26,000 before the admissions cutoff.
Jake: Oh my God, Janey, do you realize that my parents give a scholarship to a girl who can't get into art school every year?
Janey: [turns around, expectantly] Really? That's amazing!
Jake: Yeah! This year we gave it to Lupe Rodgriguez, the Mexican fingerpainter. I think you'd really like her work.

Mr. Briggs: Hey, uhh...I might be late to pick you guys up.
Janey: Why, do you have a job interview today, daddy?
Mr. Briggs: No, honey, I'll probably just be wa-a-a-ay too drunk.
Janey: Oh, that's good, we don't want you drinking and driving.
Mr. Briggs: Oh, I'll be driving. I'll just be too shit-faced to remember to pick you guys up.
Janey: Okay, bye, daddy.
Mr. Briggs: Bye, Pumpkin.

Priscilla: I need some t-to-the-four-power-y.
Jake: What?
Priscilla: Some time to talk to you.

Coach says it's okay to bleed from the ears.

come on outta there honey.. quit fartin' around

Damn, that shit is whack.

Good night, Pumpkin Tits.

I'm only in this song because I'm a black guy!