"Hunh. Sheee-uh. Or why anybodys even got to know. Like we ride wit yall a couple weeks, nobody even gonna know we there. We offerin' to help, yalls sayin' you doan need the help?"
"Billy!" Mango calls. "We're going."
Billy nods and turns back to Octavian. "Sure we could use the help. But—look, you wanna do extreme things, join the Army. They'll be more than happy to send you to Iraq."
The players snort, mutter, cast pitying glances his way. F*** that. Shee-uh. Hell to the naw naw naw…
"We got jobs," Octavian impresses on him, "this here our job, how you think we gonna quit our job go join some nigga's army? Fah like, wha, three years? Break our contract an' all?" Hilarious. They're laughing. Little squeals and snuffling yips escape their mouths.
"Go on," Octavian says, waving Billy away. "Go on now." (XXL.131-134)
These guys don't want to experience real war. They don't want to sign their lives away to the Army, dance to orders from people sitting behind desks, and face real danger. They just want a taste of war. They crave the violent release that made Billy and Bravo famous, but as for the rest of it? No way, José.