Scrap Baby: Yo ass played right tha fuck into our hands. Did yo dirty ass straight-up be thinkin dis thang just... fell tha fuck outta tha sky fo' yo slick ass, biatch? No... dis was a gift. For us. Yo ass gathered dem all together up in one place, just like he axed you ta fo' realz. All of dem lil souls... up in one place. Just fo' our asses fo' realz. A gift. Now we can do what tha fuck we was pimped ta do, n' be complete... I'ma make you proud, Daddy dawwwwg! ( ͡° ͜�- ͡°) Watch, listen, n' be full.

Henry: Connection terminated. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shiznit happens all tha time. I'm sorry ta interrupt you, Elizabeth, if you still even remember dat name. But I'm afraid you've been misinformed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Yo ass aint here ta receive a gift. Yo ass aint been called here by tha individual you assume, although you have indeed been called. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Yo ass have all been called here, tha fuck into a labyrinth of soundz n' smells, misdirection, n' misfortune fo' realz. A labyrinth wit no exit fo' realz. A maze wit no prize. Yo ass don't even realize dat yo ass is trapped. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Yo crazy-ass lust fo' blood has driven you up in endless circles, chasin tha criez of lil pimps up in some unseen chamber always seemin so near, yet somehow outta reach. But you aint NEVER gonna find dem wild-ass muthafuckas. None of y'all will. This is where yo' rap endz fo' realz. And ta you, mah brave volunteer, whoz ass somehow found dis thang listin not intended fo' you, biatch fo' realz. Although there was a way up planned fo' you, I gots a gangbangin' feelin that's not what tha fuck you want. I gots a gangbangin' feelin dat yo ass is right where you wanna be. I be remainin as well. I be remainin as well. I be nearby. This place aint gonna be remembered, n' tha memory of every last muthafuckin thang dat started dis can finally begin ta fade away, as tha agony of every last muthafuckin fuck up should. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! And ta you monstas trapped up in tha corridors: be still, n' give up yo' spirits, n' you can put dat on yo' toast. They don't belong ta you, biatch. For most of you, I believe there is peace - n' like mo' - waitin fo' you afta tha smoke clears fo' realz. Although, fo' one of you, biatch... Da darkest pit of hell has opened ta swallow you whole, so don't keep tha Devil waiting, oldschool playa yo, but it ain't no stoppin cause I be still poppin'. My fuckin daughter, if you can hear me, I knew you would return as well. It's up in yo' nature ta protect tha innocent. I'm sorry dat on dat dizzle - tha dizzle you was shut up n' left ta take a thugged-out dirtnap - no one was there ta lift you up tha fuck into they arms, though you lifted others tha fuck into yours fo' realz. And then, what tha fuck became of you, biatch. I should've known you wouldn't be content ta disappear, not my daughter n' shit. I couldn't save you then. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So let me save you now, nahmeean, biatch? It's time ta rest. For you, n' ta dem you have carried up in yo' arms. Boy it's gettin hot, yes indeed it is. This endz fo' all of us. End communication. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. -Da last FNAF game ends.-