Marge: Rap music belongs in the rubbish bin, it promotes violence and rudeness to hoes.
Bart: Step off, Mom. Rap is the poetry of the street.
Marge: Well you are not going to any concert that propagates street talk.
Lisa: Just what we need. Another lame suburban kid who loves rap.
Bart: So? You like the Blues.
Lisa: Yes, but the Blues are unpopular.
Bart: I lied about being kidnapped. The whole thing was a hoax.
Wiggum: A hoax? A hoax!? Aw, please, you can't takes this away from me! How would I explain it to Ralphie?
Bart: Well, I paid for this ticket. That makes me an adult. I'm going! (Bart leaves for a second, then comes back, hugging his Krusty doll.) I wuv you Krusty, Wusty! (Bart kisses his doll and leaves)
50 Cent: Yo! B, I heard you throw down on stage, wanna join my world tour?
Bart: Sorry, fiddy, I have school tomorrow.
50 Cent: You're right. The more you know, the further you go, and that's one to grow on. (turns to his assistant) Does that count as community service?
50 Cent: Aight, take 'em to the park. We'll go pick up some dog poop.
Assistant: Yes, sir!
Milhouse: Are you mad at me?
Bart: No, it's not about you.
Milhouse: (disappointed) Oh, it's never about me!
Bart: Man, are you illin.
Lisa: Rappers stopped saying "illin" twelve years ago.
Bart: I'm keepin' it real!
Lisa: They stopped saying "keepin' it real" three years ago.
Bart: Mom! Lisa's dissin' me!
Marge: "Dissin'"? Do rappers still say that?
Chief Wiggum: (reads headlines to self) "Wiggum Sleeps Through Riot", "Top Cop Surrenders to Backfiring Car", "Firemen Rescue Police Chief from Tree", "Commission: Wiggum Sucks" Wow I should have read these headlines a long time ago. Together they really paint a picture... a failure. And now, my only friend is the bottle (pulls out bottle of maple syrup and pancakes)
Barney Fife: (in hallucination) Rise and shine, Chief Wiggum. This pity party is over.
Wiggum: Wha?! Officer down! (sees Fife on the TV) Barney Fife?!
Fife: Y-E-S spells "you got it, buster!" and I wanna tell you that the feelings you have are common for every (sniff) brother of the badge.
Wiggum: Yeah, well my fat grew over my badge.
Fife: Oh, sour mash. You just gotta pull together and get the old (sniff) crime-sniffer out on the street.
Wiggum: You're right! It's time I buckle down and really do some police work!
Fife: Now that's the can-do attitude that puts dudes in the can! Ha, ha, ha. Well, I'm wanted back on the set.
Wiggum: Set? Are you the character or the actor who plays him?
Fife: (ghost-like voice) Now, I must goooooo!
Wiggum: What a minute. Now you're a ghost?
Fife: Avenge meeee!
Alcatraaaz: (throws Bart a Murder 4 Life jersey) Here ya go, ya little yellow cracka. (to Hummer Limo driver) Now, let's go murder our enemies. (to Bart) Peace.
Homer: Bart's gone! I checked everywhere.
Marge: That little sneak disobeyed us and went to that hip hop festival!
Homer: If that's true he's gonna be like N.W.A: Not Without Ass-Welts!
Kirk: Oh baby, what could be better than video poker and Chintsy-Pop? (takes a handful of popcorn) Wow! I'm lookin' at an inside straight! (presses a button, which replaces the ace with a five. The word "LOSER" appears with the losing music) Someday I'll hear the winning music. Someday.
(Chief and other cops burst to the door)
Wiggum: Drop the corn, tightey-whitey!
Kirk: (shouts) What!? I didn't do anything!
Alcatraaz: Yo, cuz, drop down my mic unless you know how to use it. This is old school, not preschool, so don't Dr. Seuss it.
Don't critique my technique, I'm no geek.
I make the principal nervous, my friends can confirm this,
I'll bust a spitwad in your epidermis.
You can trace my remorse to its supersized source. A hungry, hungry hypocrite named Homer of course,
My old man's pathetic, damn, is his head thick,
the gas from his ass is carcinogenic, every day I pray his DNA ain't genetic.