The clip Lester's music Part 2 from Soul Men (2008)
You know what? I'm sorry.
I shouldn't have sampled your music without permission.
Why don't we all do a song together?
a song called "Fuck You and Your Bass Line."
That's what I feel about it.
Here what I think about your damn bassline.
Henderson and Hinds!
Take that shit with you.
I made that shit gangster, that's what I did.
Let me tell you something, man, you...
Hey! Stop it!
Hey! This is my house. You hear me?
I don't need this shit right now.
You gonna talk to me crazy in front of my boys?
Why you still talking? Shut the fuck up!
Pay-Pay and Zig-Zig,
let's dip, man.
Bye, old niggers.
Feel free to utilize my facilities while you're here
to make yourself another hit.
I know you ain't had a hit since Ike hit Tina.
Get out of here.
Get the fuck
Out my grill
'Fore you get killed
My name is Lester the Court Jester.
What a disrespectful son of a bitch.
Just lay off.
Just lay off?
I know your mama taught you better.
Odetta would've whooped his damn ass.
The fuck you know about what my mama would've done.
Were you here when she was dying of that cancer?
I don't think so. I think Lester was. The hell you know.
You're right. I don't know nothing.
That's right, he don't know shit.
No, he don't.
Now I'm going to go change and get dinner started
because you guys are staying, right?
Oh, no. We need to hit the road.
Yes, ma'am. We are staying.
Hell, it's what Mama would've wanted.
Oh, yeah. That's Odetta's child, all right.
The clip Lester's music from Soul Men (2008)
Come on, man. Don't go there.
Let's just go, okay?
How old you think she is?
I don't know how old she is, and I don't care. Let's go.
Chillax, let me see something.
What are you doing?
Floyd, what the hell are you looking for?
I'm just confirming a suspicion.
That's all I'm doing.
September 14, 1981. Bingo.
It kind of works itself out, don't it?
Put it back.
Odetta left me, man,
Thanksgiving Day, man, 1980.
So you do the math, motherfucker.
Do the math? Nigga, please...
Oh, shit. You hear that?
Listen, that bass line, right there.
Son of a bitch.
Oh, my name is Lester, the Court Jester
All you other rap niggas done messed up
I take you to school a semester
Take you to court and sequester
I'm judge and the jury
Bruce Lee, Fists of Fury.
You want to whip me, the L-E-S-T-E-R
Grab my girl by the waist
Slap my girl in the face
When my mama died, I moved inside her crib
Hey, hey. Les, Les.
Hey, man, what you doing in here?
We're here trying to make some music.
That what y'all doing?
I don't see no musicians.
Listen, you know who played the base line
on that stuff you got running under those so-called lyrics?
My man, right there.
Yeah, right, man.
He ain't no damn instrumentator.
Hey, yo, Big L, check it out, man. It's them, man.
They ain't bullshitting.
Let me see this here.
The Real Deal, huh?
Hey, I mean, so what if we jacked your shit, man? Huh?
Good artists borrow,
great artists steal, man.
You know who said that?
But literary scholars sometimes like to attribute it to T.S. Eliot.
Hell, no. It wasn't no damn Missy Elliot, man.
No, man, it was Bay Bay and them.
Bay Bay, yup.
That was Bay Bay, for sure, hey, Bay Bay.