[Mike and Marcus pose as Klansmen during a drug drop; they expose their cover and point their guns at the launderers]
Mike Lowery and Marcus Burnett:[singing] Bad boys, bad boys/What ya gonna do?/What ya gonna do when we come for you? [Marcus ad-libs the first verse]
Mike Lowery: Dude, you gotta learn the words.
Burnett: We usually only do the chorus.
Marcus Burnett: [after Mike accidentally shots Marcus in the butt] What you mean, "We"? Motherfucker shot me in the ass, man.
Mike Lowery: Who shot you in the ass?
Burnett: Who? That "who" would be you.
Lowery: Me? I shot you?
Lowery: I mean, I was shootin'...yeah, I was...I did a lot of shootin'. I mean, I ain't saying that I shot you in the ass. I mean, I ain't saying I didn't shoot you... [looks] But damn! Somebody shot you in the ass!
Burnett: Tell me about it.
Marcus Burnett: [during a gunfight] Sir, we just want to talk!
Mike Lowery: You want to talk?! All right, go ahead, go ahead.
Burnett: We're not Immigration!
Lowery: [gunfire continues] They can't hear you 'cause they still shootin' at you!
Burnett: Fucking Haitians in a fucking little-ass room with fucking guns! Shit!
[Mike & Marcus take the dealers' surveillance video to nearest electronics store and go to a private testing room to see everything, but somehow personal issues come out]
Mike Lowery: [describes with hands] Look here. This is our little boundary box. So we gonna take the word flaccid and we're gonna put it in there with my mom's titties with your erection problems, and we're gonna close this box and we're gonna throw this bitch in the ocean. And the only way that you can get to this box is you got to be motherfucking Jacques Cousteau. We cool? [suddenly realizes that they're now being watched all the while by store customers] Oh shit. We gotta go.
Mother: [complaining to manager] In front of my babies, you got porno and homo shows up in here?! What kinda freak-ass store is this?! [sees Lowery and Burnett as they leave] And you two motherfuckers need Jesus! [to children] Cover your ears, baby.
Mike Lowery: [pretending to be drunk] Marcus! Nigga, who that is at the door?
Marcus Burnett: It's Reggie!
Lowery: Who the fuck is Reggie?
Burnett: Came to take Megan out.
Lowery: [walks over to Reggie] What you want, nigga?
Reggie: I'm here to take his daughter out.
Lowery: What's your name?
Lower: Man, I heard the motherfucker say your name Reggie. You wanna be takin' Megan out?
Reggie: Yes, sir.
Lowery: How old is you?
Lowery: Shit, nigga, you at least 30.
[At the Spanish Palms Mortuary, Mike lifts a sheet covering a dead woman's corpse and sees her huge breasts]
Marcus Burnett: Mike, have some dignity!
Mike Lowery: What? I ain't doin' nothin'.
Burnett: Cover the titties.
Lowery: What-what-what am I gonna do with these big-ass dead titties?
Burnett: But you're lookin' at them.
Lowery: There's...something's seriously wrong with your brain, man.
Burnett: Just cover up the titties.
[while posing as pest-control workers at Tapia's house, Marcus sees two rats mating]
Marcus Burnett: Mike! There's a papa rat humping the shit out of this mama rat. No, he's straight pile-driving her!
Mike Lowrey: Now, how is that information gonna help me do my job?
Burnett: They fuck just like us!
[Johnny shoots his cousin/assistant Roberto in the forehead after Marcus and Mike investigate his mansion]
Johnny's Mother: Johnny! Johnny, what happened to Roberto?
Johnny Tapia: He killed himself, Mama. Se pegó un tiro!
Johnny's Mother: Ay!
Johnny: Very sad.
Johnny's Mother: Make sure and write a letter to his mother.
Johnny: I'll do it.
Johnny's Mother: Okay, bye.
[Mike walks into the room, wearing a new purple suit]
Marcus Burnett: Are you a cop or a model?
Mike Lowery: Hey, man, I like lookin' good, that's all.
Burnett: For who?
Lowery: Hey, man, don't hate the playa, hate the game.
Burnett: I hate the tailor.
[Burnett is irritated at how the State Department wants to handle Syd's kidnapping]
Marcus Burnett: You know, by the time y'all finish being diplomatic, my sister could be in a fucking box. This is bullshit! [storms off; Mike follows him in another room.]
Mike Lowery: He ain't getting away from us that easy. ... We ride together, we die together. Bad boys for life. [moves to a teary-eyed Marcus and they embrace each other] We just gotta do it ourselves, man.
[DEA and SWAT operatives enter room]
DEA Agent Tony Dodd: Don't know you. You look like you're about to do something stupid. I'm in.
TNT Agent Fanuti: Dodd tell you how fucking crazy us ex-Delta guys are?
Det. Marco Vargas: Hey Marcus, my brother Tito, lives in Cuba. He's a little crazy, but he's hooked up with the underground. Weapons, men, a safe house. Whatever we need.
Det. Yul Vazquez: [steps in] You can forget about passports baby and all that stuff, because if the Cubans catch us, we're all dead.
Mike Lowery: Rodney, I hear there's a boat on fire off the coast of Cuba.
Rodney: Don't you think we oughta break international waters to help them out?
Lowery: That's my dawg.
Marcus Burnett: Point of no return. [to DEA operatives and SWAT troopers] I want to thank you all from the bottom of my heart. [to Mike, offering hand-slap] Mike, good lu-
Lowery: Tell me when we get back.
Mike Lowery: Vargas, we're not gonna make it to the tunnel! Go to Plan B! We're going to Plan B!
Marcus Burnett: What Plan B?!
Lowery: [pause] Man, you don't pay attention to shit, do you?!
Syd: [as they start arguing in the middle of the gunfight] Are you fucking shitting me?! Let's go!
Detective Mateo Reyes: [in the escape tunnel] Plan B? What the hell is Plan B?
Marcus Burnett: [driving with Mike down a hill, through cocaine-processing shacks, in a stolen Hummer] Is this still Plan B?