- Relax. - Sam, you got me fucked up.
- I don't know why you fucked up.
Can you calm down? Okay?
It's not that serious. - It is that fucking serious.
- No, it's not. You're new at this.
- So our relationship is not serious?
- I'm not saying that. - You lied to me.
- I didn't lie to you. - You did.
- No, I didn't. - Now you sure you're okay
with me taking the leftovers?
- You take it, baby.
Eat it for your lunch tomorrow. - Okay.
I mean, honestly, I'm not even sure
why you would order jambalaya at The Fondue Factory.
I mean, I feel like the menu here is just a list of foods
the chef has kind of heard of, you know?
- Well, when we get home,
I'm gonna show you something I kind of heard of.
[whispering] And there will be a few animals involved.
- Madam, this is a family restaurant.
- Oh.
- Will you keep your voice down?
- Keep my voice down for what, Sam?
- Because everybody's looking at us.
- I don't give a fuck who's looking at us.
- Why do you have to be such a bitch?
- Who the fuck you calling a bitch?
- Oh! - You got me fucked up.
- God damn! - Uh!
- Get your hands off me!
- Oh! - Ooh.
- I'm fuckin' tired of your raggedy ass shit.
- That little lady beating the bald fade off that big lady.
- You shit-- - I'll show you [indistinct]
[screaming]
What the-- [plates shattering]
- [groans]
- Let me go.
- Lang?
- I'ma fucking kill you, bitch.
Where the fuck you think you going?
- Okay, I'ma be real with you.
The girl getting her ass kicked is my friend.
- What? - And she wouldn't want me
to see her like this.
So we, you and I, we gotta go.
- You don't wanna help her?
- Nah, I think the wait staff got it.
[grunting] - Please stop.
You're killing her!
- Okay. Well, now it's something
only "The Steve Wilkos Show" can solve.
So we are out.
[people screaming]
- Bitch, I'ma kill you.
[cheerful music]
* *
- If I'm eating a celebrity's poop,
it's gonna be Erykah Badu.
- Mm. Well, I'll go Winnie Harlow.
Her poops probably comes out like little marble cakes.
- Ooh!
Like a fancy countertop. I like that.
- Guys. Guys, stop. Just stop, okay?
The correct answer is Emma Watson.
Huh? She got the little
British rabbit poops.
That's basically a Raisinet.
- Ooh, I do like Raisinets.
- Put that in your pocket, go to the movies.
- We talking poop? - Yeah.
- Yo!
- Jesus and Joseph Christ. Who John Wick-ed you?
- Nina. I don't--whatever. I don't know.
Um, if I was gonna eat some celebrity poop though,
it would have to be Lisa Bonet.
Her poops probably come out clean like a cup of soft serve.
- Dude, is no one-- I'm sorry.
I'm still, like, processing that Nina's a bad dude.
- Bitch wild, you know? What you gonna do?
- You good? - I'm all right.
- Yeah, yeah, yeah, but Nina though?
An abuser? Man, she always seemed
like the type that, like, lets abuse go on too long
'cause she has boundary issues.
- Look, I don't know what to tell y'all, okay?
Things just got a little out of hand.
Nothing to worry about. Now if you'll excuse me,
I'm gonna go grab one of Diane's
yogurt cups to stick on my eye--
- No, Sam--Sam, don't.
Mm--damn.
- You pus-colored piece of shit.
I knew you were there last night.
- What? - It was either
you or Chico DeBarge.
- Okay. Well--well, you--
you didn't get beat up by Nina.
You got beat up by an Asian lady
who wouldn't stop saying the N word.
- Whoa, whoa, whoa. You were there?
And you didn't jump in and help?
- That part. - Whoa, whoa, whoa again.
Asian people are saying the N word now?
Oh, we gotta remaster all the "Rush Hours."
Jackie, gun. "Can't you see I'm hanging
off a chandelier, doing kung fu, nigga?"
- I can't believe you didn't help me.
You watched her pour a mango margarita on my head.
- No, I left before that.
And it just didn't seem right
to get involved in a domestic violence situation.
- Well, it wasn't a domestic violence situation, bro.
We don't even live together.
It was just regular violence, you dumbass.
- That doesn't seem right.
- But bro, I'm not just some random bitch.
You know me.
I taught you how to put dryer sheets on the A/C
so that smell would go away.
- That's the homie. If it was me,
I'd have fucked the bitch up.
- Well, you not allowed to fuck bitches up.
- Even in honor of other bitches?
- Mm-mm. Wow.
We have strayed so far from God's light.
- But she's a homie. I would want to jump in too,
but I'd be afraid it'd break out into a threesome.
You know, threesomes turn into orgies real quick.
Bodies everywhere and everybody oily and naked and all that.
- More importantly, why were you
and that mean Asian lady fighting in the first place?
- I mean, her name's Tiki, and she's my side bitch.
- Whoa! - Oh, my nigga!
- Oh, my God. Are you--
you're cheating on Nina?
- Nigga, why are you whispering?
She's not here.
- Because I'm devastated.
She makes you pasta.
- Anyway, in a series of unfortunate events,
Tiki ended up pregnant.
And now she's trying say it's my baby.
- Yo, that shit is confused... - My head, my head, my head.
- My brain so hard, bruh, like--
- I don't know, man. It kind of all just happened,
you know?
We met at this furniture store.
You know what I mean?
We were both looking at the same circle bed,
with the little rhinestones in the headboard.
You know, some shit Nina would never let me buy.
- I'd let you buy that shit.
- You're broke, Chris. - Yes, that's true.
- But me and Tiki like, hit it off.
She's just so like, wild, man, and free.
And she paints little Minions on her fingernails.
Sexy. - That's nice.
- But why cheat? Right?
Were you--were you unhappy?
Was Nina making you lift stuff?
- It's not even about Nina.
I'm a fucking cafeteria lady.
Every day starts with scrambled eggs
and ends with watching "Four Weddings."
But when I'm with Tiki and she be arguing
with bank tellers over overdraft fees--
[clicks tongue] I feel like Future.
- Damn, we all deserve to eat pussy
with sunglasses on sometimes.
- Exactly.
So when she said she wanted a baby,
I threw in the bread for some in vitro.
- Okay, wait. So you just paid for the baby?
- Mm-hmm. - Everybody knows the rules.
If it's not your load, nothing is owed.
- Respectfully, I disagree--
- If it's not your splatter, it doesn't matter.
If it's not your gravy, see ya later, lady.
If it's not your juice,
you ain't gotta read Mother Goose.
- Chris, we got it.
- All right. - Yeah.
Look, although you didn't traditionally nut in Tiki,
you did, however, financially nut in Tiki.
And that makes what grew from that nut your responsibility.
- Well, I used Nina's credit card to pay for it,
so according to your logic, it's Nina's baby.
- Oh, shit. - Jesus Christ!
- Even Future wouldn't do that.
- I mean, it wasn't supposed to be all this.
Tiki was just supposed to be a messy getaway.
That's what side pieces are for.
- Yeah, but did you ever do
non-side piece things with her?
Like rub her back or listen to her dreams?
- Of course I did. That's how you get pussy.
But that doesn't mean I'm trying be with her forever.
I gave the bitch a baby.
I wasn't trying to have a baby with the bitch.
- Right. Like, if I buy a girl a turtle,
I don't have to keep sending them lettuce
or calling it on its birthday.
- Yeah.
And I met up with her last night to cool things off.
But then Tiki got all wild on some "Maury" shit.
And now I think she's gonna blow my whole life up.
I can feel her walls closing in on me.
- And not her pussy walls?
- No, Chris, not her pussy walls.
- Mm. - What a shame.
- Call to action. The real culprit here
is the man whose nut made that baby in the first place.
- I think she got it from, like,
a sperm bank or something.
- Exactly. Downloading, downloading.
If he would've never nutted in that cup,
then Tiki would never had that baby.
If Tiki never had that baby,
then Sam never would have got her ass beat and banned
from one of America's premiere homecoming restaurants.
Ispo facto, that means that that man
is a deadbeat, a woman beater...
- Yep! - And is still allowed to go
to The Fondue Factory when our friend is not!
- Fucking right. Yes.
- I'm going down to that sperm bank,
and I'ma go find whose nut it is.
- And I'm going, too, to talk to somebody
because I'm a customer there, and I need to figure out
how to check my account balance online.
- No, whoa, sorry. Sorry to hold you up.
I know you got a lot going on, but Chris,
do you think that the sperm bank works like a regular bank?
- I'm sorry. One second here.
I gotta open this garage for this numb nigga.
No.
I can't watch the porn I like to watch at a regular bank.
You ever seen, like, three bitches
on a giraffe just fucking?
The giraffe's happy but he wet.
You don't know shit about sex.
- [chuckles]
- Ho.
- If you fuck on a giraffe, it's still bestiality.
- What are you gonna do about this baby, bro?
- Nothing, nigga.
- Okay, well, you can't do nothing, nigga.
I mean, come on. You gotta--
you gotta think about that poor, innocent child.
- [scoffs] Whatever.
- Oh, you pregnant?
Oh, I knew you was gonna flip your jersey back, nigga.
Let's go. - Nah, I'm not having no baby,
I'm not meeting no baby, and I'm not taking care of no baby.
- Oh, you a deadbeat daddy with titties.
I knew I liked you.
- Look, I don't know all the terms and conditions
of the purchase agreement, but by all accounts,
you are the father of that child, yes?
- According to the Stud Commandments, you're not wrong.
- Great. So as you know,
I've had many stepfathers in my life.
And I can tell you firsthand,
there are good daddies and there are bad daddies.
- And are there red daddies
and are there blue daddies too, motherfucker?
- Mm. - Soft ass nigga.
- There are Franks and there are Lamonts.
Now surprisingly, you wanna be a Lamont.
Lamont's a deacon.
But Frank, he sucks your mom's fingers
and tells you he has a taste for something pink.
- I like that nigga too.
- The point is this is a chance for you
to finally do right by this baby.
I mean, come on.
You guys could become the perfect co-parents.
It could be like a sitcom.
I'd call it "Three Moms and a Baby."
[cheers and applause]
- Okay, on the count of three,
we each will show each other the outfits we chose
for our baby's first picture day.
One, two, three.
[canned laughter]
- What's that?
- I wanna dress the baby like the honorable minister
Louis Farrakhan.
[laughter]
[baby cooing]
[audience awws] - Aww!
Look at our little dancing Navy Muslim.
[laughter]
- That's just a bullshit
"rainbows and unicorns" version of lesbianism.
It would be more like this.
- I cannot believe that you did that to me.
[all talking at once]
[thunder rumbles]
- Okay, what'd I do? Stop!
- Oh, wait a minute now.
Don't you be yelling at her like that.
- Anyways. - Because this is my girl--
- Hey, y'all,
the baby dead.
[thunder booms]
- Y'all killed my motherfucking baby!
- Ain't nobody kill your baby.
[all talking at once]
- You hate me. You hate me.
- I don't hate you. - You hate me.
[Nina wails] [audience booing]
- So you guys yelled the baby to death?
- Pretty much.
- Been there.
You missed a melon chunk.
- Yeah, get that shit.
- The point is you can't keep running
from your bad decisions, okay?
And it's becoming clear to me
that if we're gonna make this a good daddy story,
you're gonna need me to help mediate things
between you and Tiki.
- Wrong. You don't wanna do that.
It's not gonna go the way you think.
- Mm-mm. See?
That sounds like Frank talking.
- Look, you can't just roll up there
talking like a therapist and think shit's gonna be smooth.
You don't know Tiki, okay?
Some bitches can't be reasoned with.
- Tiki? That bitch crazier than a fuck,
but she can wash the shit out a car though.
- Now why would she have washed your car?
- Because I needed the shit waxed and buffed, nigga.
- Hey! What up?
- Hey, Chris is back.
Someone grab the big cup.
- Girl, stop playing with me.
I'm just a regular man like everybody else.
You know what I'm saying? Heavy dick, light balls.
No, I don't need a big cup today.
I'm just here to check on my safety deposit box, you know?
- I'm sorry, Chris,
but that's not how sperm banks work.
Once the sperm comes in,
customers aren't allowed to see it anymore.
- Where is he?
- I don't know. That's why I'm here.
[sobs] - Oh. Ooh.
Shit. Ah, fuck.
Dude.
I didn't think she was gon'--
I didn't think it was gonna be--
I didn't mean to do this.
My bad, y'all.
But, you know--
- Let me get this straight. So--so I can--
so I can--so I can cum here,
but I can't see my dick juice later?
Then I guess I gotta close my account
and go take my business elsewhere. Ha.
- Chris. - What?
- This isn't a real bank.
That's why you see all these pictures
of urethras on the walls.
- I thought that was Georgia O'Queef.
- The only way the sperm leaves
is if it leaves fertilized inside a lady.
- Hm.
So you're saying that little baby that white lady holding,
that could be mine?
- Actually, despite your many,
many visits, no one's actually ever wanted your specimen.
- No--no one? - No.
- They said that? - Not a single person.
You're completely baby-free.
- Baby-free. No, that's cool.
That's real cool. It's cool to be free.
Wait, hold on. Hold on, Chris.
Come on. You're Chris Henson.
You played football one time and didn't get hurt.
If they don't wanna use your nut,
it's because they don't know the potential of that nut.
Thank you, Lucille. I appreciate you.
Ladies and gentlemen of the sperm bank,
it's time to let me cum inside of you.
- Sam's scared to handle her own business,
but don't worry, baby.
I'll take care of her for you.
Uh, I guess I should introduce myself.
I'm Langston.
I guess I'm technically your uncle.
Although, not in the traditional sense.
You don't have a traditional family.
Lesbians--
- You doing the census?
- No, I'm Sam's friend.
- Uh.
[baby cries]
- Um--
- He don't like eating inside.
- That is a thing some people do.
I've been speaking with Sam
and through mentorship, she now understands
that she does in fact have responsibility for your baby.
And--and Sam also understands
that what happened the other night was simply a mother,
trying to do what's best for her unconventional family.
And most importantly, Sam would like to reach an agreement
so that incidents like what transpired,
never have to happen again.
- Aw, nah, I'ma fuck that bitch up every time I see her.
- Okay, that's not what you were supposed to say.
- People been doing me dirty my whole life.
Shit felt different with Sam.
I introduced her to my psychic.
- Oh, no.
- She really led me on for real.
All she had to do was treat me like shit from the top,
and I wouldn't even be mad.
But tried to play sisterhood and intimacy.
So now whenever I see her, it's on and popping.
- Right, okay. I hear you.
I hear you.
But don't you need help with the baby?
You don't wanna raise a baby around domestic violence.
- That wasn't no domestic violence.
We don't even live together.
- Why does everybody keep saying that?
- And besides, you don't think I could provide for my kid?
I'm not some down and out single mom.
I got a good job,
I only eat hotdogs by choice,
and I mind my damn business.
Unlike you.
Me and my baby good over here.
- But your baby is eating steak in the sun.
You didn't even cut it up--
Ohh! Ooh!
Fuck you!
* *
- Gary, Indiana. 12:37 p.m.
A two-timing lesbian is accused of fathering a baby
without busting a nut.
But if there's no daddy sauce in that dildo,
then whose nut was it?
And who's really getting fucked?
- 86, 87.
Hundred! Whoo!
That's a lot of goddamn pushups.
No pushups for fat niggas.
You know what I'm saying? You like what you see, ladies,
go ahead and pick cum number 115913.
Okay? And if you like me,
you can find me at the same number,
add three more numbers.
You can't even read. What you doing?
Hey, I also make omelets. Hold that.
You ever seen a nigga moonwalk with his back?
That's some new shit. That's some real new shit
right there.
[in deep, gravelly voice] Beneath me lies an army
of vermin pushing deadbeat daddyhood.
When the accumulated nut floods the building
and all these sinners drown in the strange men's pudding,
they'll look up and they'll say, "Save us."
And I'll look down and I'll whisper, "Nah."
And they'll say, "Who said that?"
And I'll say, "Me, Jak."
And they'll say, "Who's Jak?"
And I'll say, "Damn, I should've introduced myself."
- You wanna see how the sauce is made?
Like that, like that, like that.
- I made it inside,
but the real question still remains.
Who made it inside of Tiki?
[door opens]
- [muffled cry]
What the fuck?
- [deep voice] I thought it would make you sleep.
- You gotta put chloroform on the napkin.
- [normal voice] Oh, shit.
Hey, you got any chloroform? - No.
Damn!
You weird, bruh.
- [in deep voice] No, I'm not.
[sweeping music]
* *
My God.
Tiki's baby daddy is just the tip of this nut rag.
- Hear me out.
What if we kill Tiki.. - Mm. Mm-hmm.
- And we put the baby in foster care?
- Ooh, yes. - You like that?
- Let it get lost in the system
but keep tabs on it just in case it pops.
- Now we're cooking.
- Hey, there's a bunch of rowdy-ass girls out there
telling me it's their half birthdays some shit.
Now they already broke three of my god damn appletini glasses
and them motherfuckers is plastic.
So, these hoes are determined.
Langston, I'm gonna need you on cleanup, nigga.
- All right.
We'll talk about this.
Whoo, the hustle never stops.
- Shut up, bitch.
- Oh, make it rain!
[girls screaming]
- For the homies!
[shouting]
- Bye.
- Bye, little girl.
- Where the fly boys at? - I need to find them.
- Where are they? - [laughs]
- Oh!
- Psst, I got this cum.
Come on, girl, come get this cum.
That count for love? I count per load of cum.
- Sorry, I don't have any cash.
- Well, that sounds like a you problem, huh?
Fuck. Come on, y'all. Step right up.
Get the seed from a man who can bench 140.
Easy. Three AP Psych credits. Bald by choice.
I'm Michael Jordan. Where'd you even get this from?
- Are you selling drugs outside of our sperm bank?
- No.
I'm selling sperm outside of our sperm bank.
- And I am almost certain that that's illegal.
- What's illegal is you having 300 gallons of pure Chris cream
just sitting in there, not being used.
I'm bringing the products to the streets.
Come on, y'all. No over-jack fees, huh?
No over jack. First taste is free.
Hey, you want that Chris P. Crème, baby?
- Okay, fine, Chris.
We will give you your sperm back.
Just stop asking patients to taste it.
- Alright. - Let's go.
- Chris P. Crème. Not the donut, but my nut.
- I just need a quick beat to sort out your samples
but I should have a box ready for you--
- No one's ever gonna miss your soccer games!
Or your dance recitals!
Or your one-woman shows or your colonoscopy ever again!
- What the fuck are you doing?
- Oh, shit.
- Oh, my life savings! [sobs]
All my nut on the floor now.
All that jacking off.
- [grunts, groans]
[in deep voice] I can hear them.
I can hear all of them.
I can hear them screaming.
This is what it must feel like to be God.
- Big problem. Big, big problem.
Tiki's out there and she's demanding special ice.
I mean, this bitch don't give a fuck.
- Mm-mm. Not going out there. I already told you.
I don't negotiate with terrorists.
- Okay, come on.
[Chris whines]
Okay, whatever. Look, look at me.
Tiki is a parasite and the only way for us
to get rid of a parasite
is to introduce that parasite to a new host.
- Chill out, bro. Tiki's not a parasite.
She just be acting up sometimes.
You don't know how to deal with wild bitches.
- Okay. Well, wild bitches or not.
What I'm saying is the real solution to our problem
is to find someone who just wants to be the baby daddy.
- Okay. - I'll raise the child.
This morning I started with a whole lot of cum
and now I have none.
- Nigga, what? - Hold on.
One second, man. I think he's gonna get it.
- Today, people rejected all my babies
the way Sam is rejecting hers.
It's almost as if me and that baby are meant to be together.
Like crackheads and shopping carts
or The-Dream and sunglasses.
Like, what that nigga eyes look like?
Point is, I will be the baby daddy that Sam refuses to be.
- Alright, cool. That sounds great. Do that.
- Yeah, I think that could work.
- Yellow citizen, take me to my queen.
- Okay. Um, it's that way.
- You walk off alone.
- Nigga, you better not be pregnant.
Ain't no god damn maternity leave.
You will leave this motherfucker, I guarantee you.
- I'm not pregnant.
- I did it. I busted all the nuts.
- Nigga. - Good job, buddy.
- Yeah, yeah, yeah.
- Hey, yo, ah-ah-ah-ah-ah.
Get your goddamn ass up, boy.
Don't be touching--don't be touching shit in here, man.
Hey, nigga, you better not touch me.
What the fuck? Hey.
Get your motherfucking-- get your--
[Jak giggles] Get your damn ass--
- Come here.
Come here, little nigga. Come here!
- [sighs]
- All right, Chris. That lady over there
dressed like a leather popsicle is Tiki.
- Bye. Bye! - Get outta here.
- I'm warning you, she is way scarier
than that tropical name makes her seem.
- Don't worry about it. My Almond Joy colored friend.
I got this.
[Mint Condition's "Pretty Brown Eyes"]
* *
- * Pretty brown eyes *
* You know I see you *
[glass shatters] - Oh. Mm-mm.
- I'll raise the child.
- What?
- Fine then, fuck you and that little motherfucker
since you wanna go at it like that.
- Who the fuck is you talking to?
Y'all better come get this Caillou cocoa-bean-headed-ass
nigga away from me before I whoop your ass.
Boy, bye.
- Please, just let me see my son, man!
Who gonna teach him how to ride a bike
only to realize mid-way through
that I'm really learning the most?
- Sam, I know you here.
Come out or we're gonna keep fucking shit up.
We're gonna go table to table
and shout out everybody's cards.
- Mm-hmm. Starting with these weak ass sixes right here.
- [giggles] - Dammit. Dirty dog head bitch.
- Man, she just playing.
- Yeah. Whoo!
- Okay. - Ah, ah, ah.
- I ain't going out there, man.
She wants to talk but I'm not gonna go.
I'm not going cause she be hitting people--
- Hey, look, bruh.
Ain't nothing wrong with a side pussy.
I'm all about getting some side pussy.
You hear what I'm saying? I'm trying to fuck the bitch
that load up the pop machine right now.
But you, you need to get your shit together.
Your side pussy coming to your work.
And when your side pussy start coming to your work,
you know what that means?
- She work pussy. - It's work pussy.
And I don't work for nobody pussy but my own.
- You're right, man.
I let my messy hoe shit get too messy.
I gotta go clean this shit up.
- Damn right.
- Yo, you're like a father to me, man.
- You're like a son to me, nigga.
Motherfucker been drinking my god damn Zinfandel.
- Help! Someone please help!
Help!
- Tokandra Chanel Dang, that's enough.
- Uh-uh.
You don't get to tell me what's enough.
What you need to do is take responsibility for your baby.
- You wanted a baby. So I copped you a baby.
You know damn well we weren't making no family together.
You knew what the game was. Stop playing.
- Don't try to act like you was keeping it all play
when you were sucking on my titty
and singing Donnell Jones. - So I like R&B.
- You played games with my heart.
You're selfish and you're cruel.
And your little strap was not even that sturdy
'cause it be slipping off and shit.
- Fine. I'll hold the baby.
- For ten minutes? - Whatever.
- A'ight, I'm gonna go get him from the car.
- Bye.
[child babbles]
- Mm-hmm. [indistinct]
- Whoa, Sam, Sam, Sam.
Don't give him that. It got hot sauce in it.
- Doo, doo, doo, doo. - He eat hot sauce.
- He shouldn't.
It's gonna make him poop weird.
* *