Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Frickin' hits you just like that.
Hand in the cookie jar. Hand in the cookie jar, baby.
Yeah! Murder 'em! Kill 'em all!
2-3, 2-3.
- A victory lap. - No, no, no.
I feel it.
Plus, he's the only guy that we could afford.
- Yes. - Well, guess what.
Lay it up, blaaaaa... oh!
We going to Reno!
[Overlapped chatter]
There's not enough time, man! You gotta get to the game!
At least. Absolutely.
And, like, maybe have sex with hookers.
Wait, wait, wait, wait. Hold on. That's a terrible-ass nickname.
Hot sauce. He wants to be... What do you want me to be, Parmesan?
You can't go to the hospital for a broken heart.
Right, A... Where's Adam?
Though I think we need to practice if we're gonna beat Lynette and her squad.
- What? Are you serious? - Ahh!
- [Knock on door] - Ooh, right on time.
- Are you ready for this? - Let's get it then!
What's everyone still doing here, man? We got a b-ball game!
Oh, nuh-uh.
Dunk it. Shatter the backboard for Adam.
Get some ice, gill. Did you break it?
- Wait. - This is fun!
is in the hospital, and I'm just a little rusty, all right?
What?
Like, come home with 60 bucks
- Okay, uh-oh. - Oh.
Over here we got Karl the Malone,