[funky hip-hop music]
- Man, this supposed to be a pick-up game
and they ain't picked a nig up yet.
- Fuck these marks, homey.
I say we bust out the hoe detector and dig up
some badass beach breezies.
[imitating metal detector]
- You trying to go under the pier with me
and go water skeeting? [smacks]
Ah! - Can I stick this hammerhead
in your jaws? [smacks]
Ah! - Aye girl, you wanna
hang ten on this nine? [smacks]
Ahh! - We only fuck boys
that ain't fuck boys, fuck boy.
Mm-hmm, girl, the one in the ski mask is cute.
My coochie is ready for some breaking and entering.
[gun cocks] - I love thugs.
It reminds me of my father.
Well, at least that's who he said he was.
- There you go bragging about maybe having a father again.
- If we finna smash, we gotta impress
these whoopties with some criminalistic activities,
my nigs. [smacks]
Ahh! [gunshots]
- Ooh, they shooting! [gunshots]
- Oh, shit! Did you just see that?
- Yeah, they just dropped a Crippy Creme.
[police siren wails]
- Oh, shit! - On the ground, Toblerone!
- Aye, you got the wrong ones.
- Stop resisting. [smacks]
- Uh! - Ooh.
He cute when he swelling up. [laughter]
- Yo, check this out, they thirstin' for us!
Hey Officer, I'm resisting! I'm resisting, too!
You must be a rookie, I can still breathe.
both: Ah! Ah! Ah!
- My hands ain't up. Why don't you shoot?
- What are you crazy? This is America.
You have rights.
Careful, that cocoa's hot.
Muah.
- We changed our minds, baby. I wanna hang ten on your nine!
- Ooh, baby. Take me water skeeting!
- Can we fuck? - Now I see why
Chris Brown gets in trouble all the time
- Now I can get some throat from Rihanna,
'cause we 'bout to be--
♪
[camera shutter clicking]
- Get the right side. That's where my dimple be at.
- Attention inmates,
Memphis Bleek is performing in the rec room.
I repeat, Memphis Bleek
is performing in the rec room.
- I ain't gonna lie, my nig, juvie is the GOAT.
I see why we dominate the world in prison.
- Yeah, we run this bitch! We really outchea.
- Yo, they got bottomless fries,
and all the crucial dipping sauces:
grape, orange and purple.
They shouldn't call this jail,
they should call it Christmas.
- Yo, can I get the rock? - You wanna come get some?
[dramatic music]
- Uh!
- Uh! Ow! [crying]
- [grunts] - Uh!
Tell me how my ass tastes.
- We're gonna get you out of here as soon as we can, Milky.
- Well, you always wanted to be Black. Congratulations!
- Naw baby, I'm running this joint,
so you ain't gots to worry about me.
And as you can see, I'm eatin' good.
- I bet you they ain't serving you nothing like this.
[squishing]
- Mmm, a whole turkey.
Wait a minute, is that cranberry sauce?
- I don't know. What's today's date?
- Aye, congrats, lil' nigga. You on your way
to get yo ass blowed out. - Man, ignore this stereotype.
I've been workin' the block all day to raise money
for your freedom campaign and my documentary
about your freedom campaign.
I'm this close to getting your life to matter.
- I mean, there's no rush. It's chill, look around.
[camera shutter clicks]
[music crescendos]
- That's it! I've been bustin' my ass
to fight the white man who built a police state
that encourages you to kill each other over Jordans,
then go to a prison to make more Jordans
for the white man, only to then release
your no skills-having ass into the world
like a plague of locusts to kill more brothers
and send them to jail and keep the madness going?
- Yo man, shut the fuck up.
We tryin' to watch "Peaky Blinders" over here.
- That's it, I'm officially done with...
niggas!
- Man, anyways, a word of advice,
if you do get your ass blowed out
and you don't tell nobody, then it ain't happen.
♪
- What's Gucci, Air Warden? You wanted to see us?
- Yeah, we been here a whole two hours.
We tryin' to see what them conjugals do.
- Yeah, is there like a sign-up sheet
where we can list our preferences?
- Well the good news is,
where you guys are going,
you can get conjugals all you want.
Till your jaws get sore.
- Hell yeah! Wait, what?
- Well, you guys have been formally charged
with robbery and a dash of manslaughter.
So, you're being transferred from groovy juvie
to the toughest prison in Chamberlain Heights.
Woodpecker Bay.
- We can't go there, we ain't even got pubes yet.
- The laws have changed, sonny.
You remember what the first Black President,
Bill Clinton, said: "If you're tall enough
to ride a roller coaster, then you can go in with the adults."
[dramatic sting]
- Yo holmes, what's up with Malik?
He's, like, three hours late and stuff.
- Maybe the man finally caught up with him.
- Sí, mon, but like who is this "man" anyway, fool?
- You know, whitey, cracker, honkey, peckerwood,
blue-eyed devil, Yakub.
- Malik? - Nah, it's Young Lil' Leek.
What's the bidness, my dude?
- I have no idea what you just said.
Speak English! - I don't speak English no mo.
All I speak is nigga.
- Great, now I gotta massacre another language.
- You're scaring me, ese.
You are acting like a real ninja and stuff.
- Nigga, I know. It's actually liberating.
No rules. Just ignant.
Ignant is just below ignorant.
Man, I finally get Katt Williams.
- What's that, Malik? - It's that purp and Percocet.
This what niggas want, so that's what we gonna give 'em.
Now let's roll, I need to go record my mixtape
and cook up some of that work.
Come on JaMarcus. Lazy ass dog.
Costing me money, don't do nothing.
[crowd exclaiming, jeering]
- First time I laid eyes on the Legends,
I knew they weren't ready for the life.
[buzzer blares]
- All right, spread 'em.
Mmm. On second thought--
- Ahh!
[inmates jeering]
- One fat boy, one funny looking,
big-lipped kid, and one Black cracker.
I didn't know if they'd make it through Woodpecker Bay.
- You a minority here, whitey.
- Hey, were you from, holmes?
- Reparations gonna come out your ass.
- I'ma suck your titty. - [whistles, kisses]
- Hey look, there's a basketball court.
Maybe we can earn their respect.
- Yeah, motherfucker!
[stabbing, grunting] - Oh, yeah! Take that!
[grunting]
[together] Oh, shit!
- Yeah, I thought he traveled, too.
- Hey, you're O.J.! Wow, man.
- Nah, that was the past life.
Now I'm just The Juice.
- Oh, they did a show on you.
Cuba double murdered that shit.
- Fuck that nigga, Cuba Gooding Jr.
Wide-nosed bitch muthafucker. [thunder booms]
- Aye, man. I ain't mean to offend you.
- I'm just saying, how you gonna cast a nigga to play O.J.?
I transcend race. That's why I got off for killing my wife.
Uh--and 'cause I was innocent, of course.
But I'd definitely kill that over-acting,
show me the money, Black motherfucking Cuba Gooding Jr.
and then I'd write a book about it
called "I Did Stab That Bitch, Cuba, Not My Wife."
♪
- So the boys got their job assignments.
Because at Woodpecker Bay, everyone works.
The big nose one, well he's gonna be
making shoes with the Mexicans.
Yep, Air Force Juans.
Get it? 'Cause they're Mexican.
- Aye mayate, you work like a gringo.
You don't make your quota, ese,
we gonna give you the Sinaloa Spit.
- What's the Sinaloa Spit?
- That's when Hector sticks his dick in your mouth
and Miguel sticks his dick in your ass
and we spin you like a pig.
Oink, oink, ese.
- Oh, that sound kinda terrible.
- The fat boy, well he'll be cutting weaves with the fruits.
- Well I think Caitlyn is brave for what he did.
Especially at his age.
- All Bruce Jenner did was put on a skirt
and tongue kiss a dude.
Shit, that ain't brave.
All he doing is playing dress up.
- Well, Caitlyn can eat my Wheaties any morning.
[both laughing]
- Um, are y'all just gonna talk about dicks all day?
- Or we can talk about getting in your asshole, cutie.
[sucking]
- No, no, no, I'll take the dick.
[laughter]
- And in an ironic twist, the white boy ended up
working with the Friends of Izlam.
- See, Caucasoid, we are similar to The Nation,
except we still like pork and white women.
Oh yeah, and we don't give a fuck about Islam.
All praises to All Y'all!
all: Praise All Y'all!
- Praise All Y'all!
I love it here, Brother Malzone.
All we need is some big bootie sistas
and this joint'll be turnt.
- You love the dark meat?
Hmm. I see something in you.
Maybe you can serve a purpose.
Read this book cover to cover
and watch the rest of that white devil run out of you
faster than a white boy running out of bullets
at a school shooting.
- I'm home.
♪
- Ay, yo. Ay, yo. What's good, man?
It's your boy Young Lil' Leek, you know what I'm sayin'?
'Bout to let these kids know. You know what's up.
Ay, turn me up.
♪ Career Crook, the Leek got what you need ♪
♪ Have the game on lock before my ABC's ♪
♪ From adorable to deplorable, my skin is my sin ♪
♪ They hate they way that I'm so wavy ♪
♪ Watch dem big wheels spin
♪ Went from chains and whips to chains and whips ♪
♪ Get it? From sold and shipped ♪
♪ To gold and silks, spit it ♪
♪ In any hood Malik run them projects ♪
♪ Hands on my nuts but my balls ain't dropped yet ♪
♪ Check the scoreboard too much fear to come near ♪
♪ Facts: Your style is played ♪
♪ You haters is Vladimir Hacks ♪
♪ Don't sleep, get on both knees and pray to heaven ♪
♪ But don't thank God, thank me ♪
♪ 'Cause I'm a legend
- Peace, God. - Órale, holmes.
- Pssh, sell outs. - I've learned so much
since entering these walls, brethren.
- Me too, ese. I speak Spanglish now,
I'm Catholic, and I can build an entire Ikea work station
without instructions.
- Jail ain't as bad as I thought.
They ain't got dipping sauce, but they do have
a delicious peanut butter and KY Jelly sammich.
It goes down really easy.
- Sorry to interrupt, but can I offer you
some of my fresh baked cornbread?
I'm part of the jail welcoming committee.
I see y'all asses are new, so the cornbread
is an olive branch of sorts. - I'm in!
Hey! - What the hell are you doing?
- Just trying to enjoy some fresh baked snacks.
It's an olive branch. - If you eat that olive,
he's gonna shove his branch right up your ass.
That cornbread represents booty.
If you eat that, you're gonna owe him some booty.
- Shit, I woulda tickled your big, succulent
hind parts all night.
Damn it, Juice! - Get outta here, Baron,
before I tell the guards you're tickling again.
Come on, now, you gotta be smart in here, fellas.
That cornbread almost cost you your cornhole.
If the boys don't get protection soon,
their cornholes are gonna be turned into torn holes.
- Lil' Smurf, you got anymore stitching thread, ese?
- I'm impressed! You figured out a way to fit in.
Blood in, blood out, holmes.
You've learned how to stand and deliver.
- In the name of the Father, the Son
and the Oakland Raiders. Amen.
- You Catholic now, too? Nice touch, ese?
- Anything for mi barrio, ese.
[tearing]
[organ playing]
- Yes! And can any of you lambs
tell me who this wonderful man was?
- No, can you tell me why Jesus ain't the color of burnt brass?
And if that's supposed to be Jesus,
why don't he have wooly hair? - What are you saying?
- That Jesus was a nig like me. [smacking]
Ahh! - Impossible.
- Water to wine?
Sounds like Black shit to me. - Yeah, makes sense.
- Yeah. - Fish fry for five-thousand?
Black shit. [audience agreeing]
And ain't nobody seen his daddy.
All Black shit. [crowd agreeing]
- Get this traitor out of here.
Guards!
- Black power! all: Black power! Black power!
Black power! - Well, if nothing else,
that white boy is committed.
Woodpecker Bay has always been a great place
to see what you're really made of.
♪
- Mm, you got some fast hands,
I never even found out why you even here.
- They say me and some friends jacked a Crippy Creme.
- Oh, you here for a real crime.
All I dids was buy a joint
within 5,000 feet of a church.
Ten years.
- Wow and doing all that time's turned you gay?
- Shh. I--I'm not gay, man.
- Say what?
- It's called survival. If you don't want
your backside dug out, you have to act like you like dick.
See, when you offer it up to 'em, it comes across as gay.
And nobody in here's gay. But if you act like
you don't want it, it's a challenge.
In here, consent is the enemy.
- So if I don't wanna get penetration,
I gotta act like I wanna get penetration?
- Absolutely. They stopped having sex with me
after the third week.
My farts got sound again. [farts]
- Now who wants this dick?
- Me! Dicks, dicks, dicks, dicks, dicks!
- Ew, fucking slut.
- I said be gay, nigga, not Lee Daniels.
- Dos, tres, catorce, quince.
- Damn, Grove. You got buff
since you been in here, my brother.
- Yeah my nig, your calf game is kinda sexy.
- What? - Just go with it.
I'm playing easy to get so that my farts can have sound.
[dramatic music]
♪
- [choking, gagging]
- Brother Davis! [all gasping]
[siren wailing]
Please, All Y'all, don't let this brother die.
- Brother Milk Sayid, the time has come
when we need your assistance.
- I'll do whatever you want.
I'm your humble servant. I'm your soldier.
Whatever you need, I got you.
- I need you to kill someone.
- Whoa. Except that.
- Milk, you must understand.
The greedy Mexicans have been selling our people
bad toilet wine.
And you saw, the result is the death of one of our own.
What we need is retribution.
So if you don't take care of Montoya,
the Brothers will take care of you.
[dramatic music]
- We have a situation, ese.
I need you to prove your loyalty to the Rolling Chipotles.
- Whatever you need, holmes, I'm ready to ride.
- The mayates in the FOI have gotten a green light to kill me.
- Damn, no bueno, ese.
- No bueno indeed. That's why I need you
to go kill one of them.
- No disrespect, holmes,
but this kinda sounds like a "A" y "B" problemo.
- Did you really think that you could
just be Mexican for free, ese?
You have to prove your loyalty.
They shank one of us, you shank one of them
or one of us will shank you!
[dramatic music]
[all catcalling]
- It's visiting day in your asshole.
- Oh, shut up or I'll suck your dick.
all: Eww!
- Whew, being gay is hard work.
They just won't leave a bitch alone.
- [sighs] Girl, I'ma just forget about today
and dream about tomorrow.
Oh I get it, it's 'cause I'm a pretend gay.
So now I gets no conversations?
- Naw, just got a lot on my mind, my brother.
I have to do something I'm not prepared to do.
- Me too, ese.
[together] I gotta kill somebody.
[dramatic sting]
- Damn. We've been in jail 48 hours
and we gotta murk somebody?
- Well, if you was with the gays,
all you'd have to murk is that sphincter.
[laughs] Good night.
♪
- With their asses on the line, the boys knew
they needed to get help from the outside.
And desperate times call for--
- Smart move, callin' your big bro.
- Yeah, but I called Malik.
- Well you got me and let me guess,
you got your back blowed out and now you wanna
marry the nigga. - Montrel, we in trouble.
La familia wants me to kill one of the Arabs.
- And the Arabs want me to kill one of the Mexicans.
- Oh, shit. this is where the Arabs and the Mexicans
are fighting for power.
It always happens.
I call it the "Maria Full of Jihad."
- Hey, is there anything you can do to help us, Montrel?
- I already did. I got you some representation.
- Really? Who?
[vending machine rattling] - Me, caa.
Aye, can a nigga have some retainers?
- Shea Butta? No fucking way, holmes.
- Shea knows the law better than Johnnie Cochran.
And you don't want some corny-ass
over-worked public defender anyway.
- They don't know shit, caa.
Aye, I been arrested thirty-five times
and not once has your Crip been to jail.
- Maybe we should go with the handsome, young mans?
I got your retainer in my mouth.
- Aye, what the hell wrong with him?
- He's just surviving, holmes.
[gavel banging]
- Aye, Your Honor-caa,
the niggas that did this crime is some real ones.
Hood-ass, grimy-ass street niggas like me.
Over the course of the proceedings,
I will prove that these three soft-ass R&B niggas
are not capable of the alleged crime.
- Okay, proceed Mr. Butta.
- For my first witness, I call to the stand
them big ass titties.
Uh, I mean Mrs. Milk.
[balloons squeaking]
[crowd catcalling]
- Now Mrs. Milk, have you ever known Milton
to get up on some bitches?
- Oh. [giggles] You're cute.
[rolls tongue, laughs]
No, he never gets bitches.
[crowd gasps]
- I object! I gets bitches.
- Oh, [laughs] you do not, Milton.
That's why I had to buy Rhiyonce.
- And who is this Rhiyonce you're referring to?
- His girlfriend. [laughs] I'm just kidding.
His blow up doll. [laughs]
Oh, no bitches.
- As proof that he's a no pussy buster,
I introduce this raggedy ass blow up doll
as evidence for Exhibit C.
- Milk still plays with dolls?
- Man, I'll explain it to you when you get a little bit older.
But for now, let's just say he bustin' a nut
all up in that ass.
["Law & Order" stinger]
- Aye, if you was to check the playlist
of the true perpetrators of said crime,
you would most certainly find the music of Young Thug,
OT Genasis, Gucci Mane or some other crazy,
dope ass, rapper.
Now Jamal, will you please reveal to the court
the contents of your playlist, caa?
- Uh, okay, I'll start from hardest to soft.
Ace of Base, Flo-Rida, Adele, and, of course, the homey Drake.
- And we all know Drake the type of nigga
that waves with two hands. [all laughing]
Y'all like that one?
Well check this out: Drake the type of nigga
that knows the strippers by they first names out of respect.
[laughter]
Drake the type of nigga that knows how to fold fitted sheets.
[laughter] Drake the type of nigga
that do a courtesy flush even when nobody home.
[gavel bangs] - All right, all right.
Counselor, the court understands what type of nigga Drake is.
Proceed with the next witness.
["Law & Order" stinger]
- I present Exhibit D.
This footprint was found at the scene of the crime,
next to a delicious Crippy Creme, caa.
These are clearly Jordan Retro Elevens,
"Space Jam" edition, which my client does not own.
'Cause he a broke ass nigga. - Objection, Your Honor.
The defendant is wearing Jordans.
- Yes, to the untrained sneaker head.
And that's why I brought in an expert, caa.
♪ Announcer: And now,
from North Carolina--
his shoes are responsible for 376,000 murders
on the South Side of Chicago, this year alone.
And the new, proud owner of three prisons,
a Harold's Chicken, and a Wing Stop
in the greater Chamberlain Heights area.
Number 23, Michael Jordan!
- Michael Jordan, can you please identify this shoe?
- Hey, I know the game of basketball,
but I don't know what the fuck this is.
I mean, you can tell by the poor stitching
that this is obviously the work of a child
that eats at least every other day.
- So what you saying, Michael Jordan-caa,
These are not the Air Jordan Retro Eleven Space Jams.
- Fuck no. Michael Jordan takes great pride in his brand.
You ever seen a Black genocide over a pair of damn Starburys?
- No, I have not.
In conclusion, Your Honor-caa,
I believe I have proved
beyond Jay-Z's "Reasonable Doubt,"
that these no pussy gettin', Drake listening,
fake sneaker wearing, soft-ass squares
are not hard enough to have committed the crime
they are accused of.
Now bang that gavel, caa.
- Case dismissed. Counselor Butta,
you were a savior today.
We almost committed a travesty of justice
and put an innocent white person behind bars.
Your defense of your clients was spectacular.
[all cheering]
Hold on, everyone.
Counselor, please state your full name.
- Uh, Shea "That Real Crip" Butta.
- Your full legal name.
- Raymond Ray Rutherford. - That's a bitch-ass name!
- You're under arrest for outstanding warrants.
We've been looking for you.
- Shea, why would you come to court
knowing you could get caught?
- What can I say, tiny caa?
I'm a real nigga who just loves my peoples.
Stay Black.
- I love my peoples, too, Shea.
- Don't forget to tell 'em
that you like dicks! ["Law & Order" stinger]
- Yeah, so what changed your mind, Malik?
- I realized that our people wanna go to jail
because they lost hope and have given up
on the American dream.
Even rehabilitated-minded Negros often find themselves--
- Enough, boss! We just glad to have you back.
- It's good to be back. Now let's go get that paper.
♪
- That's right, girl. We almost had to do
25-to-life in that bitch.
But we out now. - Y'all ain't got no scars
or tear drops? - Did you at least
rape somebody? - No.
- Well if you didn't rape nobody,
heh, you musta gotten raped.
- You don't get raped if you want it!
- Hey, come back here! - Damn, girl!
Don't leave so quickly! - What did I say?
I didn't mean it! - In the eyes of the state,
those guys are like any other
Black kids out there, guilty.
I'm glad it worked out for 'em.
They don't need to spend the rest of their years
slaving for companies that rape their people
of the little bit of money they do have.
I guess the moral of the story is...
Fuck Cuba Gooding Jr. Don't let him play you.
And if I ever get out, the next mini-series
is gonna be about me killing that motherfucker.
Yeah, I said it.
And this glove is gonna fit, God damn it!
[baton thwacking]