Frank: Yo Tray, we got a problem.
Tracy: [as Jefferson] Pray who be this Tracy Jordan thou speakest of?
Frank: Uh, President Jefferson, we got a problem.
Tracy: Speakest!
Frank: That horse ate your wig.
Tracy: Well, stand guard by his rump and await it in his droppings!
Lutz: Or we could probably just go get a new wig?
Tracy: A-ha! I like you, young man; you shall run my university.