Metalocalypse Quote
Murderface: Congratulations, you can now call your parents and safely say you are now Murdertooth recording artists, Get Thee Hence!
Get Thee Hence Band: Yeaaah! [start celebrating]
Lead Singer: So where's our advance, son?
Murderface: Uhh I'm sorry I don't even know what you're talking about.
Bass Player: Where's our fucking advance, you heard us.
Murderface: Oh oh oh the advance! Oh you mean advance money!
Lead singer: Wait wait wait. Hold up hold up hold up. Are you sure you're even a fucking label?
Toki: Kinds of.
Murderface: [shoves Toki away] Toki shut up! We're the fucking real deal, bros. But look. Shouldn't we get a contract in place or something?
DJ: You guys hear that fucking back peddling bullshit fucking suits.
Murderface: What? No, man! We're not suits! We're your bros. Toki, get my checkbook. [gets checkbook] Sooo, what uhh like five thousand?
Bass Player: What do I look like, a fucking hooker?
Murderface: Fifteen.
Lead Singer: Keep coming.
Murderface: Thirty.
Lead Singer: Uh uh.
Murderface: [growing nervous] Forty, fifty, sixty, seventy, eighty, ninety, hundred, hundred-ten [faster] hundred-twenty, hundred thirty, hundred forty-hundred fifty, hundred sixty, hundred seventy, hundred eighty, hundred ninety, two hundred! Two-ten, two-twenty, two-thirty, two-forty, two-fifty, two-sixty, two-seventy, two-eighty, two-ninety, three hundred! Five...hundred thousand dollars! And that is my final offer-five-ten. Five-twenty? Five-thirty, five-forty, six hundred? Seven hundred. Eight hundred. Nine hundred...a million.
Get Thee Hence Band: Yeaaah! [start celebrating]
Lead Singer: So where's our advance, son?
Murderface: Uhh I'm sorry I don't even know what you're talking about.
Bass Player: Where's our fucking advance, you heard us.
Murderface: Oh oh oh the advance! Oh you mean advance money!
Lead singer: Wait wait wait. Hold up hold up hold up. Are you sure you're even a fucking label?
Toki: Kinds of.
Murderface: [shoves Toki away] Toki shut up! We're the fucking real deal, bros. But look. Shouldn't we get a contract in place or something?
DJ: You guys hear that fucking back peddling bullshit fucking suits.
Murderface: What? No, man! We're not suits! We're your bros. Toki, get my checkbook. [gets checkbook] Sooo, what uhh like five thousand?
Bass Player: What do I look like, a fucking hooker?
Murderface: Fifteen.
Lead Singer: Keep coming.
Murderface: Thirty.
Lead Singer: Uh uh.
Murderface: [growing nervous] Forty, fifty, sixty, seventy, eighty, ninety, hundred, hundred-ten [faster] hundred-twenty, hundred thirty, hundred forty-hundred fifty, hundred sixty, hundred seventy, hundred eighty, hundred ninety, two hundred! Two-ten, two-twenty, two-thirty, two-forty, two-fifty, two-sixty, two-seventy, two-eighty, two-ninety, three hundred! Five...hundred thousand dollars! And that is my final offer-five-ten. Five-twenty? Five-thirty, five-forty, six hundred? Seven hundred. Eight hundred. Nine hundred...a million.
TV Show: Metalocalypse
