Will: Hey, Johnny C.
Johnny: Hey. How are you doing?
Will: Think you can help a young janitor out?
Johnny: Oh, sure, lay it on me, my brother.
Will: Bla-bla-blam-blam! Here it is, the next Whitney.
Johnny: Where's the rest?
Will: Huh?
Johnny: This is the music business. You need the universal lubricant. [Will looks disgusted] I'm talking cash, man.