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Boyz N the Hood

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Them niggas around the corner|tripped out, man.
- Fuck that shit, man!|- Let's go. I'll take my car.
Oh, fuck that. We should've|let these niggas have it.
- Just pull up, just pull up.|- Get your shit ready, nigga.
Damn!
These niggas here?
All right, hold up.|Get ready, get ready.
Look out, nigga! What's up, punk?!
Possible 187 at corner of|Crenshaw and Century.
They shot my brother!
- Tre, you do your homework?|- What homework?
- Yeah, I did it.|- Can I copy it?
Hell, no. Too bad,|you should've done it.
- Did you hear the shooting last night?|- Yeah, I got under my bed.
Man, you a scaredy-cat.
My mama say, "A bullet|don't have no name on it."
I ain't afraid. My brothers|been shot and they still alive.
They lucky.
Y'all want to see something?
What?
I ain't saying what.|Want to see it or not?
Is that blood?
What happened?
Somebody got smoked. Look at|the hole in the wall, stupid.
Least I can tell my times tables.
Look! Why is the blood|turning yellow?
That's what happens when it|separates from the plasma.
So that's how the settlers|survived that long hard winter...
...that took so many of their lives,|is by eating foods...
...that were given to them,|like the turkey and the squash...
...and all the foods that we think of|as our traditional holiday meal.
And that's why we celebrate|Thanksgiving...
...to commemorate the unity|between the Indians...
...excuse me...
...the Native Americans...
...and the early English settlers|who were called... Class?
Pilgrims.
That's right, the Pilgrims.|Very good.
The penguins!
Who said that?
- Mr. Styles.|- That's me.
How is it you always have|something funny to say?
Because I'm a comedian.
Would you like to come up|and teach the class?
Yeah, I can do that.
Very well, come on up. Instruct us.
- What's the basis of your lecture?|- What?
What are you going to talk about?
I'd tell you if you let me talk.
- What's the name of this place?|- That's Africa. I know that.
Right, that's Africa.
Did you know that Africa is where|the body of the first man was found?
My daddy says that's where|all people originated from.
That means everybody's really|from Africa. Everybody.
All y'all. Everybody.
I ain't from Africa.|I'm from Crenshaw Mafia!
Like it or not, you from Africa.
I ain't from Africa. You from Africa.|You African booty-scratcher!
Quiet.
Punk, I'll kick your ass.
That's enough.|Count to 10 and be quiet.
I'll get my brother to shoot you!
Get your brother, bitch!|I'll get my daddy. Least I got one.
I ain't your bitch.|Ain't nobody's bitch, bitch!
Are you listening to me?|Sit down, now! That's enough!
As I said, he's highly intelligent.|He has an enormous vocabulary.
It's just that...
Yes, go on.
It's just that he has|a very bad temper.
It's extremely difficult for him|to interact with the other children.
Perhaps I could recommend therapy|or a child psychologist.
No, thank you.|We can manage just fine.
Is there some problem in the home?|Are you employed?
That's none of your business, but...
...I am employed, and I'm studying|for my master's degree.
- Then you are educated.|- Are we gonna talk about me or my son?
I'm sorry.
Well, we'll be happy to see Tre|back in class on Tuesday.
His suspension was only|for three days, you know.
- No. You won't be seeing Tre again.|- And why is that, may I ask?
- Tre is going to live with his father.|- His father?
Yes, his father. Or did you think|we made babies by ourselves?
- You tell her go jump in the lake?|- What was our agreement?
What did we put down in writing?
"I, Tre Styles,|being of sound mind and body...
...agree not to get into any disputes,|physical or verbal...
...for the rest of the school year.|If I do not conform to this...
...I will go to live with my father,|Mr. Furious Styles."
"Signed..."|Oh, now, who wrote this?
"Tre Styles."
You have to work on your handwriting.
Bean pies. World-famous bean pies.|Like a bean pie, mister?
I just don't want to|see you end up dead.
Or in jail.
A drunk, standing in front|of one of these liquor stores.
Can you understand?
Look at me. I'm serious.
I love you.
You're my only son.
How you doing?
- I'm fine. How about yourself?|- I'm living. That's enough for me.
Well, here he is.
- What's the matter? You can't say hi?|- Hi, Daddy.
Go ahead, talk to your friends.
- What's up, Tre?|- What's up, Doughboy?
Well, there goes your son.
You wanted him, you got him.
Why you trying to make this so easy?
Well, it's like you told me:
I can't teach him how to be a man.
That's your job.
So it ain't no weekly thing|no more, huh?
You staying for good?
Chris, you know Tre, right?|Remember, we were playing ball?
Yeah. You the one collect|all those comic books.
You living here now?
Thank you, Reva.
Furious.
- Take care of my baby.|- He is my baby too.
You still collect comics?
This fool got more comics|than a motherfucker.
- Tre, come here.|- Watch my stuff.
What up, Tre?
What's up, Rick?
Well, it looks like you got|all your friends over here.
When you coming to pick me up?
Listen...
...this is just a temporary thing.
When I graduate, I'll get a better|job, a better place to stay.
Maybe a house?
Then you can come back, and things|will be better. Okay?
Okay, Mom.
Okay. Can I have a kiss?
- Love you, love you.|- Me too. Bye, Mommy.
- Doughboy, staying out of trouble?|- I ain't got no troubles.
- You got some troubles?|- Lawn trouble.
- Why don't y'all rake these leaves up?|- How much?
I'll give you $5|for the whole lawn.
Five dollars. Man, that ain't shit.
- I can make more doing nothing.|- Oh, yeah? Doing what?
He work for his uncle.
That's too bad. I guess I just|have to get my son to do it for me.
Do what?
Want you to rake up these leaves|off the lawn.
Boy, don't look at me funny if I|ask you to do something. Take this.
There's two trash bags right there|on the ground. See y'all later.
Damn, your daddy mean.|He's worse than the bogeyman himself.
Gotta do all these leaves.|Who he think you is, Kunta Kinte?
- Later, Tre.|- Later.
What you mean, a bogeyman?|There ain't no such thing.
- Yeah, there is.|- Lf there is...
...I'll bet you Hulk|could whip his ass.
Yeah, later.
Tre, I gotta lay down|the rules of the house.
Same thing as weekends,|you remember?
All right, what are they?
Clean the bathroom sink,|floor and tub.
I gotta clean that tub?
Yeah.
Clean my room and water the lawn.
Dad, can I ask you something?
What do you have to do around here?
I don't have to do nothing around here|except for pay the bills...
...put food on the table and put|clothes on your back, you understand?
Glad I don't have to pay no bills.
You may think I'm being hard|on you right now, but I'm not.
I'm trying to teach you|how to be responsible.
Your friends across the street,|they don't have anybody to show them.
You gonna see how they end up too.
I'm glad you're here, Tre.
You're a prince, you know that?
Yeah. You're the prince...
...I'm the king.
Right now, the king says it's time|for the prince to go to bed.
So get yourself together.
I'll see you in the morning, okay?
Oh, shit!
Somebody must've prayed for that fool.
- I swear I aimed right for his head.|- Should've blew it off.
Don't say that.
Don't say that.
It'd be contributing to killing|another brother.
Man, where are these fools?
We've been waiting out here|for almost an hour.
- We got a call of a burglary here.|- That was about an hour ago.
We didn't ask you that.
Yeah, well, I told you.
Besides, I don't like having|my son out in the cold.
Just tell me what happened, sir.
Somebody broke into the house.
I fired at him with my piece,|and he ran away.
- You didn't get him?|- Lf I did, he'd be laid out here.
- Is there anything missing?|- No.
Good, no need to make out a report.
- Got a 415 on Florence|between Vermont and Normandie.
Too bad you didn't get him.
Be one less nigger out here|we have to worry about.
Hey, little man, how you doing?
Go on in the house, Tre. Go on.
- Something wrong?|- Something wrong? Yeah.
It's just too bad you|don't know what it is...
...brother.
Ice-cream man!
Wait up!
What's up?
You ain't shit.
You just like your daddy.
You don't do shit and you never|gonna amount to shit.
All you ever do around here|is eat, sleep and shit.
Look at this place. Way y'all act,|y'all must think I'm the maid.
- Is that it? I gotta go.|- Hell, no, it ain't it!
It ain't it till I say|it's it, damn it!
Cigarette.
Don't get smart with me, I'll knock|your ass in the middle of next week.
Where you going, you little|fat fuck? You ain't got a job.
Who's that little fucker on my porch?
Oh, you're Furious' little boy, huh?
Boy, you look more and more|like your daddy every day.
So tell me something.
How come he don't play cards|with us no more?
I don't know.
I know he don't think|he's better than us.
Too busy shooting at people.
I heard what happened there|the other night.
He still got that same girlfriend?
Excuse me, Mama.
- Why do you always play football?|- Because that's what I want to do.
That's right.
I heard Furious shot|at somebody last night.
- He get him?|- No.
Who is that?
That's my lady, homie.|Her name's Brandi.
She ain't your woman. She's my woman.
- How, when she my lady?|- She's my wife.
I stick my ding-a-ling in her|every night, so that makes her mine.
Get your ass in here and quit|looking at them boys!
Punk!
Faggot!
Get off me, with your big|4-by-4 head! Get off!
Get off!
Man, forget that girl.|Come on, let's go see Chris.
- Where's my ball?|- Man, don't bring that ball.
Me and my daddy going fishing.
We ain't gonna stay long.
- Where's he live?|- He don't live far.
Rick, why you have to bring that ball?|I ain't saying nothing if it get took.
Y'all want to see a dead body?
Yeah.
Tre's daddy blasted|at somebody last night.
Really? What kind of gun|your daddy got?
I think it's a 357 Magnum.
Really? I got a deuce-deuce.
My brother gave it to me|before he went to jail.
I got it under my bed. Want to see?|It's loaded too.
It's up in here.
Damn!
It smell like a dog died.
- Look like Freddy Krueger got him.|- He stink.
That's how they smell after a while.
I wonder why it take them people|so long to pick him up.
Yo, man, I ain't going up in there.
- Oh, man.|- Damn, it's stinky in this motherfucker!
- Hey, throw the ball.|- You ain't gonna see it again.
Don't you know this is a dead body?
Yeah, I know that shit!
He ain't bothering you,|so don't fuck with him!
Throw the ball, little man.
I ain't gonna take it.
Chris, tell him I ain't|gonna take his ball.
I got enough money to buy me|a hundred balls. Shit!
Man, I told you not|to bring that ball.
Thanks, cuz.
Yo, dog.
Throw the ball.
Shit.
Let's start the game, man.
Man, you stupid! Don't have no sense.
Told you not to bring that ball.|Wait till I tell Mama.
Man, shut up. I don't care.|Tell Mama.
Y'all leaving?
Hell, no.
Give me my brother's ball back!
- No, no!|- Come on, man!
No, don't say nothing.|You're gonna lose, man.
- Give me my brother's ball back!|- What'd you say, fat boy?
- Give me my brother's ball back be...|- Before what?
What your fat ass gonna do?
Yo, Rock! Give the little|nigga the ball back.
Stupid motherfucker!
I was gonna give it to you too.
Man!
Hey, man, I got a football.
I never use it myself.
- I give it to you when we get home.|- He ain't gonna want it.
His daddy gave him that ball.
Wish I could kill that motherfucker.
Yo, Rock, give me the ball.
Give me the fucking ball!
Hey!
Hey, little man!
Catch!
Man, you sorry.
- I'm going to the store.|- Why? You ain't got no money.
I'm going anyway.
- So you a leader or a follower?|- I'm a leader.
Okay, then. What's the three rules?
Break it down for me. And, hey...
...think before you answer.|- I got it!
Always look a person in the eye.|Do that, they respect you better.
Two was to never be afraid|to ask you for anything.
Stealing isn't necessary.
And the last one, I think, was...
...to never respect anybody|who doesn't respect you back.
That right?
Yeah. Yeah, you got it.
What do you know about sex?
- I know a little bit.|- Oh, yeah? What little bit is that?
I know, I take a girl...
...stick my thing in her...
...and nine months later|a baby comes out.
You think that's it?
Basically, yeah.
Well, remember this:
Anyone fool with a dick can make a baby, but|only a real man can raise his chldren.
I wasn't but 17 when your mother|was pregnant with you.
All of my friends was dropping out|of high school...
...hanging out in front of liquor|stores, getting drunk, getting high.
Some of them was robbing people.
Some of them was even killing people.
Hey, you remember my friend Marcus?
He got into robbing people,|wanted me to join him...
...but I said, "No,|I'm getting ready to have a son."
I knew you'd be a boy.
I wanted to be somebody|you could look up to.
So I guess that's why|I went to Vietnam.
Don't ever go in the Army, Tre.
Black man ain't got|no place in the Army.
Damn!
Why'd you get it all over me?
- Don't do that no more, that's nasty.|- What?
Oh, wait! Listen to this song!|I love this song!
{Y:i}Things are gonna get easier
{Y:i}Ooh, child|Things'll get brighter
{Y:i}Ooh, child|Things are gonna get easier
Oh, damn!
Looks like they going to juvie.
No, man. They going to the gates.
- Yo, man, what happened?|- They were stealing.
{Y:i}Someday we'll walk in|The rays of a beautiful sun
{Y:i}Someday when the world|Is much brighter
{Y:i}Ooh, child|Things are gonna be easier
{Y:i}Ooh, child|Things'll be brighter
{Y:i}Ooh, child|Things are gonna be easier
{Y:i}Ooh, child|Things'll be brighter
{Y:i}Someday, we'll get it together|And we'll get it undone
{Y:i}Someday
Come on, Tre. Let's go, son.
Come here, Rick.
Come on, man.
Come here, man. Look at all|these people back here.
There you go!
Want to learn how to barbecue? Huh?
You're not watching this meat.|You just standing here poking at it.
- Give him to me, Ricky.|- Shanice, I got him.
Go on back to your friends.
- He's wet. That's why he's crying.|- He ain't wet. Now, go on back.
- Okay.|- Listen, I'm sorry. Come here.
See? That's how y'all got that one.
Ricky, you make sure|she taking them pills.
I don't want a bunch of these around.
I'll be the one|taking care of them.
- I'll put him to bed.|- Go on to Grandma.
It's all right. All right,|okay, shut up, come on.
And flip that meat over.
I'm winning.
Domino, motherfuckers.|What you say about that?
Fool, that ain't shit.|I beat your ass three times already.
That's just once.|Let's play again.
Fuck that, I don't want to play no more.|Let's bust some spades.
- Yeah, I'm with that.|- Bust some spades?
Cool.
- Know how to play spades, Dook?|- Something like that.
I have something to suck on.|Here, cut that, G.
I want one of them hootchies|over there.
Dooky, you full of shit. No bitch|gonna give your ugly ass no pussy.
I bet I get more pussy than you.
Yeah.
You get dopehead pussy.
I get more pussy than your|wannabe mack-daddy ass...
- Who you calling wannabe mack daddy?|- You, nigga!
No-pussy-getting motherfucker!
Fucking them dopeheads,|you stupid-ass nigga.
You don't know what I be getting.|Don't be fucking no dopeheads.
I let them suck my dick,|but I don't fuck them.
They got AIDS and shit.
You can catch that shit from letting|them suck on your dick too.
Thank you.
But I ain't sick.|I ain't all skinny and shit.
What you mean, you ain't skinny?
Motherfucker's skinny enough to|hula-hoop through a Cheerio.
You ain't got to be skinny or sick.|You could die in five years from it.
- Mark ass.|- Y'all trying to scare me.
Can you really get it from|letting them suck it?
Mark.
Tre? How you doing, baby?
- Fine.|- Good, you just in time for the food.
I'm bringing out|the rest of the things.
Potato salad. You name it, we got it.
- Everybody's here, so have a good time.|- Okay.
Oh, and Tre? Baby, do me a favour.
Talk to Darin for me.|Talk to him seriously, you hear?
I am so sick and tired of him|going in and out of there.
Maybe some of what you got|will rub off on him.
Okay.
What's up, Dough?
Oh, shit! What up, G?|Tre, love in effect.
Yo, what's up, Tre?
- What's up, Chris?|- Heard you're like Mr. GQ Smooth now.
- Working over at the Fox Hills Mall.|- I get discounts on clothes, you like?
You look like you selling rocks.
- Tre, you be slinging that shit?|- No, I don't be doing that shit.
Couldn't anyway.|Pops'd kick your ass.
You know, I'm out of the pen now.
Trying to keep my ass out this time.
- That's what we here to celebrate.|- Yeah.
Damn, brother, how did you get so big?
Pumping iron and eating, man.
Nothing else to do in|the motherfucking pen.
Three hots and a cot,|know what I'm saying?
Rest of the time I was|reading and writing my girl.
- Reading?|- Yeah, motherfucker.
I ain't no criminal.|I can read, bitch.
Who is that, Shanice?
That's Tre, Ricky's best friend.
He was best friends with Doughboy|when they was little.
They be trying to act|like they brothers.
Girl, he is fine!|I'd like to rush that!
- He go to Washington?|- He go to Crenshaw.
I seen him before.|He work at the Fox Hills Mall.
Do he got a girlfriend?
Yes.
Jamaica, girl, I was scoping|on this ho's man.
He fine, anyway. You better watch|his ass. Somebody might steal him.
All right, y'all, come and get it!
- Do you live here?|- Okay, girl. Sorry-ass niggas.
Come on.
Why don't y'all act like gentlemen|and let these ladies eat first!
Yeah, you act like you ain't|never had no barbecue before.
Let the ladies eat.|Hos gotta eat too.
Wait, nigga, who you calling a ho?|I ain't no ho.
Oops. I'm sorry, bitch.
- Hey, hey, watch your mouth.|- Just playing.
All right, enjoy.
And be nice.
Get out of the way!|You still up here?
- Hi.|- Hello.
So why haven't you called?
Just one minute.
What's up, my brother?|She wants to talk to you.
- I know. I'm just taking my time.|- Oh, I see.
- You trying to run that game on her.|- Yeah, how am I doing?
Well, you're doing just fine.
- Except for one thing.|- Yeah, what's that?
She left.
What?
- Damn!|- That's all right.
Hey, hey, hey.
Ain't this a bitch?
Wait! Wait!
- Don't worry about it. I got her.|- Is she all right?
All right, G.
Sheryl! Come on!
Keep your baby out the street.|She gonna get hit one of these days.
You got some blow? You got some rock?
- I'll suck your dick.|- Just keep the baby off the streets.
And change her diapers.|Girl almost smell as bad as you.
What up, punk? What up, fool?
Mark.
- What is that? Barbecue?|- Yeah.
- I know you didn't bring me no swine.|- No.
Mrs. Baker told me|to bring you a plate.
- Brenda, huh?|- Yeah.
She might've had a chance|if she didn't talk so much.
Let's see.
She ain't lost her touch.|She still can make some barbecue.
Hey, Pop, can you fix my fade|back here? And up here?
I'm eating.
After you eat.
Yeah.
Yeah, real close.
So I can brush it, you know,|hook up some waves.
Something wrong?
Nope.
What's the problem?
You're getting old, Pop.
- I'm getting old?|- Yeah.
I'm getting better, young brother.|You getting old.
- You older than dirt.|- I'm older than dirt?
- Yes.|- I am but 17 years older than you.
Your friends, they got fathers|in their 40s and 50s.
These cats are great big...|Just slobs, man.
- You know, bellies out to here.|- Yes. That's gonna be you!
That's gonna be you, man.|Big old fat, juicy roll...
...double-jelly-roll belly. Right?
Sitting in a rocking chair,|reading the funny papers!
Then your grandchildren will be|running around, saying:
"Granddaddy, give me something.|Give me a dollar."
You think so, huh?
Yeah.
Wait a minute, man.
What's all this about grandkids, man?
You using the rubbers I gave you?
I ain't ready to be a granddaddy,|all right? I just...
I ain't ready for all of that.
Don't worry.|I can take care of myself.
Why are you sweating me, man?
Tre, close the refrigerator.|Close it. Come here.
What?
All right?
What? I stink now?|I got something on me?
- You had some pussy yet?|- What?
- You had some pussy yet?|- Yeah! Yeah!
When?
- What?|- When?
All right, all right.|Just sit down for a second.
Go on, sit down, now.
It was a Sunday, right? Rick and I|were kicking it up on Crenshaw.
This group of females|rolled up in a Rabbit.
Everybody trying to bum-rush them.|Trying to jib and all, right?
Man, there was this one girl|everybody was trying to rush.
Baby was fine!
Body was booming,|like right out of Jet centerfold.
So I'm, like, eyeballing her.
She walks right up on me and|busts out, "Is this your ride?"
Then I say, "Yeah, you want to go|for a ride with me?"
She says, "No, I want to drive it."
I say, "Can you drive stick?"
She says, "I can learn|if you teach me."
I go into my mack-daddy mode because|I'm getting a woody in my sweats.
I says, "Why don't you give me your|number, I'll call you for a lesson."
She does.
About a week later,|I'm over at her house.
Her mom and grandma|are leaving for church.
I walk right up to the door, man.
As soon as I go inside, boom!|We go at it, nonstop.
Kissing, hugging, right?
So I pick her up, take her upstairs.
Well, about 20 minutes into it,|Mom and Grandma's come home.
Seems Grandma forgot her purse.
Wanted to make sure she has something|to put in the collection plate.
Yeah, I guess she could smell the sex|in the air or something, right?
She starts straight|towards Tisha's room.
That's the last I ever saw of Tisha.
I call her once in a while...
...but when I do, her mom or grandma|say, "She can't talk right now.
She busy, doing the dishes."
- What'd you use?|- I used the number she gave me.
Why are you sweating me?
I had to use nothing.|She said she was on the pill.
How many times I tell you?|If a girl's on the pill...
...you use something anyway.
A pill ain't gonna keep|your dick from falling off.
I don't know why you insist on|learning things the hard way...
...but you gonna learn.|Oh, yeah, you gonna learn!
Clean up that hair.
What's up, man?
- What the fuck is wrong with you?!|- What?
You slamming my door like|some gorilla on a football field!
- Damn, nigga, what's wrong with you?|- Nothing.
Guess what, man?
- Recruiter from SC's coming tonight.|- Cool.
You know, man,|I never lied to my father.
Never?
Well, almost never.
Where's all this coming from?
Where's all this coming from?
I lied to Pops yesterday.|Told him I weren't no virgin.
Well, you ain't a virgin, is you?
Is you?
Well, technically speaking,|I haven't.
You know, I fingered|a couple of honeys...
...and sucked on some titties,|but I ain't never stuck it in.
Why not, man?
- You really want to know?|- Yeah, I asked you, didn't I?
I was afraid.
- Shit!|- Get off me.
- See, man? Shut up. Shut up.|- What you doing, man?
What you afraid of, man?
Of being a daddy.
Oh. Well, yeah.
But I'm getting old now, see?
And now that I want to slap some skins,|Brandi ain't even down for it.
- Even with a jimmy she ain't down.|- Is that right?
- I don't see that.|- Why the silent treatment?
You haven't talked to me in five days!
You tell your father to say|you're not home.
- Then you take the phone off the hook!|- Well, I been busy.
Oh, well, don't give me no bald-ass|excuse for a lie like that!
What did I do that was so bad that|you just had to stop talking to me?
See, you know what you did.|See, you gotta get with the program.
I told you about that. I'm Catholic,|and it goes against my morals.
Yeah, but Catholic girls are supposed|to be one of the biggest hootchies.
- When you bust a cap on somebody?|- I bust a cap like, blam-blam.
Damn! God!
Come on, fuck him up, man!|Fuck him up!
You say you want to wait till|you get married first, right?
No, look at me. Right?
Yeah.
And I say that I'm gonna be|the one who marries you.
So it don't make no difference|when we do it...
...we still gonna get married, right?
Yeah, but I'm going|to college before I marry...
...and there ain't no guarantee|that I'm gonna marry you!
Bad shit!
Hey, hey, yo. Yo, bonita.
Damn, look at that ass.
Chica bonita. You come to my casa|and let's do the loco thing.
Hey, Dooky, this fool trying|to speak Spanish...
- That shit worked.|- What up, baby?
So let me knock the stuffing|off that Egg McMuffin.
You got a phone number?
- You haven't even given me a ring!|- I ain't ready for all that yet!
But you're ready to act|like we are, though?
- What your man say?|- Don't touch me.
All right.
- You make me sick, man.|- I know, but I missed you.
I missed you too.
I missed you too.
He still ain't fucked her yet.
You better take your ass|to the store with that.
So you gonna give me|the skins or what?
No, that's not all I think about.
Yeah.
- Okay. Pop!|- Yo!
Brandi's mom say you're cute!
Ask her how come she don't say hi|when I speak to her.
He say, "How come she don't say hi|when he speak to her?"
Yeah.
Hey, I'm supposed to be talking|to you, not passing messages.
If my daddy mess with your mama,|we gonna be brother and sister.
Then we have to do that incest thing.
What?
No, no, I'm just kidding.|Wait, hang on, I got another call.
Who this?
Oh, hi, Mama.
Yeah. Hang on, I got Brandi|on the other line, okay?
So you gonna give me|the skins or what?
Tre, this is your mother.
I'm sorry, Mama.|Hang on for one second. Okay.
Brandi?|Yeah, I'm gonna call you back.
Okay.
Hi, Mama.
"Who this"?
What kind of way is that|to answer the phone?
I'm sorry, Mama.
- Why didn't you come by this weekend?|- I was cooling with Rick.
You can cool with|your friends anytime.
The weekends are supposed|to be our time together.
Have you thought about|what we talked about?
Yeah.
And?
I don't know yet.
Let me speak to your daddy.
Pop!
Telephone!
Who this?
Hey, how you doing?
Yeah.
Yeah, we talked about that.
Yeah, well, look...
I know you don't agree with me,|but I think it's his decision.
Look, I don't...|No, I don't think that's necessary.
Look, Reva.|Reva, this is bullshit.
I'm sorry,|but I think it's ridiculous.
There's no reason for him|to come live with you now.
He's not a baby!
No, no, wait a minute.|Why you got an attitude?
I don't have an attitude.|You have an attitude!
We have gone through this a thousand|times. I always tell him...
...use a rubber!|You know, use a rubber...
Watch me shoot this motherfucker.
Look.
Yeah.
- Taken off the motherfucking set.|- Hey, yo, Monster, man.
Don't be cussing so motherfucking|loud. My moms don't like that shit.
Come on, man, move the plastic.|You're sitting on the good part.
Damn!
Darin?
See, now I gotta hear this shit.
Darin!
- What?|- Get them drive-by shooters out of...
Damn! Moms be fucking|with his ass without fail.
She ain't like that with Rick, though.
Because they got different daddies.
Y'all got to get the fuck out.|My brother got company in a minute.
- See that? I didn't get my turn.|- It's Monster's fault.
Come on, man. Fix that shit, man.
What up, man?
What up, dude?
Who that?
Anybody know where Ricky Baker lives?
That's my brother! He live here.
Hey, yo, Rick!|The man here to see you!
Stop.
Stop. Hold still. Be still.
There, I got it.
Yo, Rick!|Get your ass out of there.
Ricky, come on out of|the bathroom, baby.
Check this out.|Here come the reverend.
So what college you from?
I'm from USC.
You got to have a scholarship|to go to SC?
No, but it helps.
Can you hook me up with a scholarship?
- What do you do?|- I used to play baseball.
Shut up, man.
Don't you know|the man's about business?
Move, nigga. Move, punk.
Move.
Y'all be the fuck quiet.
Hello.
I'm Lewis Crump.|You must be Ricky's mother.
Brenda.
And this is my other son, Darin.
- Hello, Darin.|- What's up?
Can I get you something to drink?
- Coffee, water, soda?|- No, thank you.
We met at the game against Washington.
I remember. That was a good game.|You picked up 276 yards in that game.
- That's impressive.|- Thanks.
Well, why don't y'all sit and talk?
Hey!
I want you to know we're interested|in you coming to the campus.
Get a good look around, you know,|a feel for the school as a whole.
Here's my tape.
That was against Banning|my junior year.
Man, we lost that year,|but I did pretty well in yardage.
They had the best defence|in the city that year.
Big country booty!|Big country titties!
- Boo-ya!|- That's what I'm saying.
From eating all that corn bread|and shit, I guess.
Shit. Me, I go to college|just for the hos.
You don't go there to talk to bitches.
You're supposed to be|learning something.
Can't learn shit, talking|to no stupid-ass bitch.
- Yo, check out that 808.|- Damn, that shit bumping.
What are you interested in|beside playing ball?
- Like, what you mean?|- I mean...
...what do you want to major in?|What kind of degree would you pursue?
I'm just asking because|there's a strong possibility...
...that you won't go into|the NFL after college.
Just a fact. It happens.
Yeah, I heard that before.
Actually, I was thinking|about majoring in business.
I got this friend, Tre, who's always|talked about going into business.
Plus, I like computers.|Maybe I could do that.
What do you think?
Young brother, I think you can do|anything you put your mind to.
I tell you where y'all need to go.
Where they got more women|than anywhere. Fine ones too.
- Crenshaw on Sunday nights.|- No.
- Street races on Florence?|- No, nigga. Y'all way off.
I give y'all a hint.
Everybody's been there.
Where?
Where, nigga? Spit it out!
The church.
Oh, shit!
Nigga, please! Ain't nobody going|to church to catch no bitches.
I should roll your ass up off|this porch for that stupid shit.
So basically you have|a 2.3 overall GPA...
...according to the classes|we require.
All you have to do|is take the SAT test.
Yeah.
I heard about that test.
The next one's being offered,|let's see...
...early October.|Are you gonna take it?
I guess so. I can't get into|college without it, right?
Just remember, all you have|to do is get over a 700.
- Okay.|- Come here. Come here!
I'm sorry, I'm trying to give|him a bath. Come here.
Your little brother?
No, that's my son.
Well, I'll look forward|to talking to you again.
We'll also arrange that tour for you.
Thank you, Mr. Crump.
You bet, Ricky. Bye-bye.
You gonna give me a scholarship?|Because I want to go to college too.
- Man, shut the fuck up.|- Fuck you, nigga.
It's my porch.|You can take your dumb ass home.
My baby is going to a university.
I always knew you would|amount to something.
I did.
When you were little, you used to|always run around with that football.
I'm proud of you, baby.
- Thanks, Mama.|- You make your mama proud.
May I have your attention?
The SAT test will be|administered in this room.
When you receive your test book,|please keep it closed on your desk.
Read the directions on the|front cover of your test book.
Use a number two pencil in|marking your answer sheet.
Ink or ballpoint pen|is not to be used.
If you do not have|a number two pencil with you...
...raise your hand and keep it up.|We'll pass a pencil out to you.
During the time allotted for a section,|you may work on that section only.
If you finish a section|before time is called...
...you may not go back to a previous|section or on to the next one.
You have 30 minutes for section one.
Open your test books and begin work.
- This it?|- Yeah.
Damn!
- Baby got more cakes than Duncan Hines!|- Damn.
Bet you buy the chip.
Don't worry, the interest rate hasn't|moved two percent in five years.
- "Furious Styles Financial."|- Talk to you later.
So how you guys think|you did on the test?
All right, I guess.
Those tests are culturally biased.|The only universal part is the math.
You boys must be hungry.|I'm real surprised to see you.
Came to see you.
See how you doing.|How's business going?
Well, there's always business,|just not always in here.
What do you do, Furious?
You help people get money|for homes or what?
Well, there is no "or what."|That's what I do, Rick.
- You boys want to see something?|- Do we have a choice?
No.
I don't know about all this.|Got us walking around Compton and all.
Rick, it's the '90s.
We can't afford to be afraid|of our own people anymore.
Would you two knuckleheads come on?
I want y'all to look at that sign.|See what it says?
"Cash for your home."|You know what that is?
- It's a billboard.|- Billboard.
What are y'all, Amos and Andy?
Are you Steppin' and he's Fetchit?
I'm talking about the message.|What it stands for.
It's called "gentrification."
It's what happens when property value|of a certain area is brought down.
- You listening?|- Yeah.
They bring the property value down.|They can buy the land cheaper.
Then they move the people out, raise|the value and sell it at a profit.
What we need to do is keep everything|in our neighbourhood, everything, black.
Black-owned with black money.
Just like the Jews, the Italians,|the Mexicans and the Koreans do.
Ain't nobody from outside bringing|down the property value.
It's these folk!
Shooting each other and selling|that crack rock and shit.
How you think crack gets|into the country?
We don't own any planes.|We don't own no ships.
We are not the people who are flying|and floating that shit in here.
Every time you turn on a TV,|that's what you see.
Black people selling the rock,|pushing the rock. Yeah, I know.
It wasn't a problem when it was here.
Wasn't a problem|until it was in Iowa...
...and on Wall Street where|there's hardly any black people.
If you want to talk about guns...
...why is it that there's a gun shop|on every corner here?
- Why?|- I'll tell you why.
Just like there's a liquor store on|every corner in the black community.
Why? They want us to kill ourselves.
You go out to Beverly Hills,|you don't see that shit.
They want to us to kill ourselves.
The best way to destroy a people is to|take away their ability to reproduce.
Who is it that's dying out here on|these streets every night? Y'all.
- Yeah.|- Young brothers like yourselves.
What am I supposed to do?|Fool roll up, try to smoke me?
I'm gonna shoot the motherfucker|if he don't kill me first.
You doing exactly|what they want you to do.
You have to think, young brother,|about your future.
Damn, man.|You know, Furious is deep.
- He used to be a preacher?|- He ain't never been no preacher.
Just reads a lot.
My brother should've heard that, man.
Would've done him some good.
Where he at?
Where else, man? Up on Crenshaw|with the rest of them fools.
- Let's go.|- Cool.
- What up, Monster?|- What up, nigga?
Goddamn, there's a lot of fuckers here.
Don't be using God's name in vain.
What?
Man, shut up.
Yo, man, you believe in God?
Yo, why the fuck y'all get|so damn religi-fied lately?
Fool, I wasn't even talking to you.
This is an A and B conversation.|You can see your way out of it.
You can see your way out|of my ride...
...and we'll see your crippled ass|walking home.
Man, look. Do I believe in God?|Yeah, I guess I do.
How else can you have the sun, moon|and stars and shit like that?
Sun, moon, stars, quasars.|Motherfucker sound like Elroy Jetson.
There ain't no God.
If there was a God, why He be letting|motherfuckers get smoked every night?
- Babies and little kids, tell me that.|- You tell me this, nigga.
How you know God's a He? He could|be a She. You don't know that.
For one thing, you don't know what|the fuck I be motherfucking knowing.
I read about this shit|when I was in the pen.
It was this book, right,|and it was telling...
...life in the perspective|if God was a bitch.
Said if God was a bitch, there wouldn't|be no nuclear bombs, no wars...
...because that ain't|in a bitch's nature.
Why every time you talk about a female|you say bitch or whore or hootchie?
- Because that's what you are.|- Nigga, fuck you.
Hey, hey.
What's up?
What up, D?
- What's up, Mon?|- What's up, man? Hey, Tre.
What's happening?
- Where y'all coming from?|- Compton.
What y'all doing over here, man?
We're kicking it. Philosophizing|on God, church, bitches and all.
I'm schooling these niggas|on the aspect of religion.
- Religion?|- And on factual, actual studies.
You know what I'm saying?
- Y'all coming from Compton?|- Yeah.
- I thought you were scared of Compton.|- Rick was a shivering bitch, boy.
It was deep, though.|You should've been there, man.
Pops was talking, speaking, man.|Speaking the truth and shit.
Your pops is like|motherfucking Malcolm Farrakhan.
Man, what's wrong with you?
Fuck you looking at, nigga?
I'm still trying to find out, nigga!
We got a problem here?
We got a problem here?|We got a problem, nigga?
- What up with this?|- Put the gun away.
Can't we have one night|where nobody gets shot?
Shut up, bitch.
Bitch, I'm gonna fuck you up!
Let's get that bitch!|Fuck you like that.
Ferris always trying|to start some shit.
Nigga can't fight, so he always trying|to find some excuse to shoot somebody.
That's why fool be getting|shot all the time.
Trying to show how hard they is.|Ignorant.
Fool, shut up.|You be doing that shit too.
I know.
Hey, man, come on. Let's go!
I'm getting the fuck out of L.A.
Fuck this shit. Fuck it.
You can't go nowhere without|it getting all shot up and shit.
Shit!
Shit! Fuck!
Driver! Put your hands|on the steering wheel!
- Got any drugs or weapons on you?|- No.
I didn't do nothing.
You think you tough.
You think you're tough, huh?
You scared now, huh?
I like that.|That's why I took this job.
I hate little motherfuckers like you.
Little niggers, you ain't shit!|Think you tough, huh?
I could blow your head off,|and you couldn't do shit.
How you feel now?
What set you from?
Look like one of them|Crenshaw Mafia motherfuckers.
No, you probably one of them|Rolling 60s, huh?
12-Adam-63, we have|a possible 187 in blue WW...
...at corner of|Florence and Vermont.
Again, a possible 187 in blue WW|at corner of Florence and Vermont.
Stay out of trouble.
You gentlemen have|a nice evening now, you hear?
Hi.
- I thought something happened to you.|- Ain't nothing gonna happen to me.
I'm tired of hearing them|shooting all the time.
- What's wrong?|- Nothing.
I'm tired of this shit.
Those two motherfuckers.
I could kill all these motherfuckers.
I'm sick and fucking|tired of this shit!
I'm fucking sick of this shit!
I'm so fucking tired of this shit!|Fuck this shit!
Stupid motherfucker!|Fucking fuck you! Fuck you!
I wish I could kill all you!|Come on at me, motherfucker!
What's so funny?
I never thought I'd be crying|in front of a female.
You can cry in front of me.
What do you think about...
...people getting married|while they're still in college?
Are you trying to ask me something?
No.
I just wanted to know what you thought|about that kind of situation.
I think it can be good|if two people really love each other.
Really?
Yeah.
You sure you're down for this?
Yeah. Are you?
Yeah.
I mean, yes, I am.
I don't want to get pregnant.
You won't.
Hi. I'm looking for a Miss Devereaux?
- She's right over there.|- Thank you.
Hey.
Hi.
You look nice.
Thank you. So do you.
Thanks.
Thanks for coming.
So...
So this is...
...definitely you.
And what's that supposed to mean?
I thought we were|gonna talk about Tre.
Espresso, please.
Café au lait, please.
I bought him some shoes yesterday.
Why are you always buying him stuff?
Can't I be nice to my son?|Do I have that right?
Yes, but he has a job. You don't|have to always buy him stuff.
Look...
...did he tell you he wants|to move in with Brandi?
Yeah. So?
"Yeah. So"?
So don't you think that's a bad idea?
I think that Tre is old enough|to make his own decisions, Reva.
You're his father. That means you|were supposed to guide his decisions.
What have I been doing|for the last seven years?
- Not that, evidently.|- Listen, Reva...
...it's time for you to let go.|I know you want to play the mommy...
...but Tre is a grown man now.|He's not a little boy anymore.
That time has passed, sweetheart.|You missed it.
Excuse me, I'm getting|some cigarettes.
You're not getting off that easy.|Sit your ass down.
Excuse me?
I said sit down before I raise my voice|and make a fool out of both of us.
Okay.
Now it's my time to talk.
Of course you took in|your son, my son...
...our son...
...and you taught him to be a man.|I'll give you that...
...because most men ain't man enough|to do what you did.
But that gives you no reason,|do you hear me, no reason...
...to tell me that I can't be|a mother to my son.
What you did...
...is no different from what mothers|have done from the beginning of time.
It's just too bad|more brothers won't do the same.
But don't think you're special.
You may be cute, but not special.
Drink your café au lait. It's on me.
Everybody in the mall was running.|Bitches running out of Contempo's.
Fuckers throwing cookies|out the cookie shop.
Niggas was getting their bail on. I|was smoking every fucker that came in.
I thought I'd let y'all know that.|Understands me?
What's up?
You missing all the action.|Niggas getting smoked and shit.
Who's them niggas?
Man, pick Chris up.
Punk might start trippin'.
That's those fools from Crenshaw.|Damn, I ain't even got my gat.
Motherfucker ain't got|nothing better to do.
Twenty-seven years old. Still|fucking motherfuckers our age...
...with his old ass.
What's up?
Anyway...
...I saw you roll out of Brandi crib|at 2 in the motherfucking morning.
Yo, man, that's my business.
Handle your shit, G.
- Peer pressure, man.|- Handle your shit.
Don't be like this motherfucker.
This motherfucker got babies,|in-house pussy.
Let me do shit like that,|Ma would be like:
"I ain't having it."
Ricky.
Ricky!
You know you heard me.
Huh? What?
I need you to go get some cornmeal.
Yeah. I'll go in a little while.
If you want to land a good job, you|have to know what most employers want.
Like how to motivate yourself.|How to lead others.
How to perform under pressure.
You can learn these things in the Army.|No matter what career you choose...
...you'll really be ready|to take off.
Ricky, get up and go now.
I can't finish|frying the fish without it.
Boy, go get this girl some cornmeal.
You ought to be happy|somebody's cooking for your ass.
- Give me some, Dook.|- Here, take it.
- What's up?|- What's happening?
D, go to the store for me|and get some cornmeal?
Nigga, I ain't the one she told|to go get it. She's your wife.
She ain't my wife, man.
Shit.
Might as well be,|y'all got a family and shit.
Tecmo Bowl-playing motherfucker.
Fuck you, man.|Go to the store with me.
Sure, let's do it.
What?
Don't fuck me, fuck your wife.|That's why you got a baby.
You better get out|of my face, all right?
What's up with Brandi?
- Hey, you a punk, man!|- Hey, yo, yo. Wait a minute.
Wait!
This is family business.|Let 'em fight.
Y'all are brothers!|You ain't supposed to be fighting.
You been a punk from day one.|Mama's boy!
Get him, Dough.
Let 'em fight, man.
Brenda, Ricky and Doughboy|are out here fighting.
Cut that out. Get off of him.
Get off of him!
Damn.
- What you hit me for?|- You all right?
Yeah, I'm all right.|I'm all right!
What you hit me for?
It's the test scores. Ricky!
Ricky, baby, your test scores!
What you hit me for?
Why you hitting me?
Yo, Dough. Why she hit you?
Shut up, man.
Fuck all that shit.|I'm going into the fucking Army.
- That's all there is to say.|- You're doing what?
Man, what are you, a damn fool?
They say I can learn|to work on computers.
Plus, they'll give me|money for college.
Listen to you.|You sound like the commercial.
They don't tell you that|you don't belong to you no more.
You belong to them, the government.
Like a slave or something.
My daddy told me a black man...
...has got no business, no place|in the white man's Army.
I heard all that.
I got a little boy|to think about, okay?
I don't want to be like my brother.|Hanging out and not doing shit.
End up dealing 'caine, just like him.
I want to do something with my life.|I want to be somebody.
Listen, let me tell you something.
When you join that Army,|you ain't gonna be nobody.
Yo, you got any change?
No, I ain't got no change. See?
What up?
Yo, chief. Here you go.
Hey, no problem, bro.
You win anything?
Wait a minute, man.|I'm still trying to find out.
Shit. Nothing.
- What?|- I said nothing. I didn't win.
You gotta be Mexican|to win that shit.
Man, I win this lottery, I won't|have to worry about a damn thing.
Don't have to worry about no colleges,|no 700 on no SATs. Not a damn...
Look.
There's that motherfucker|from the other night.
Okay. When I say "cut,"|we'll cut through these houses.
Cut!
Punk ass.
Get him, man, get him!
Let's get him.
Go around the corner.|Cut 'em off. Come on, go!
Shit.
Fucking mangy mutts!
Come on.
I got you. I got you.
- Come on, let's go.|- Hold on, man.
- What are you doing?|- I gotta drain the weasel.
If that motherfucker roll up on the set|one more time, I'll blast his ass.
Shit! Rick!
What a relief and shit.
- Let's go.|- Wait a minute. Let's split up.
I don't think we should do that.
I think it'd be better|if we're together.
Them fools ain't gonna do nothing.|They just showing out and shit.
- I'll meet you at your house.|- Cool. I'm out of here.
Come on, man.
Ricky!
Ricky.
Help me! Help me!|Somebody help me!
Ricky!
Shit!
Watch his head. Don't hurt him.
Don't hurt him, man.
Be careful with him.
Watch his head.
He's dead.
Let's take him home.
Mama!
Mama!
Mama!
No!
Ricky! Oh, my God, no!|Not Ricky!
What y'all doing now?
Ricky?
Oh, my God.
Ricky? Ricky, baby, get up.
Get up. Wake up, baby.
Ricky, get up. Get up.
It's all right. Get up, baby.
Get up. Tre, what happened?
What happened to him?
Give me the baby. Give me the baby!
Don't touch him!|Don't you ever touch him!
He don't need to be seeing this!
Ricky, please wake up!
Mom.
- What did you do? What did you do?|- It wasn't my fault.
- What did you do?|- Mama, I didn't do nothing.
Oh, my God! What did you do to him?
What did you do?
What did you do? You did this!|You did this! I'll kill you!
You did it! I know you did it!|You did it! Yes, you did!
I told you!
Oh, God! Oh, God!
Oh, my God!
Ricky, baby! Ricky!
Meet me at my house in five minutes.
Tre, what happened?
- Talk to me. What happened?|- Go home.
- What happened to Ricky?|- Go home.
Talk to him.|Something happened to Rick!
I don't know. He just got shot.|Something happened to Rick!
Brandi, I want you to calm down and|I want you to go home. You hear me?
- You hear me?|- Yes.
I'll take care of him.|He'll be all right.
Tre, what are you doing?
Oh, you bad, now, huh?
You bad. You gotta shoot|somebody now, huh?
Well, here I am.
Come on, shoot me.
You bad, right?
Look, I'm sorry about your friend.
My heart goes out to his family,|but that's their problem.
You my son. You my problem.
I want you to give me the gun.
I see. You want to end up|like little Chris in a wheelchair?
Right? No, no, you want to end up|like Doughboy, huh? No?
Give me the motherfucking gun, Tre!
You're my only son, and I'm not gonna|lose you to no bullshit, you hear?
I love you, man.
Go clean yourself up.
Go on.
Tre.
Tre!
Damn.
Shit!
Yeah.
Let me out.
Dough...
...let me out.
Where these motherfuckers at, man?|Been out here damn near three hours.
It's colder than a motherfucker|out here too.
Let's go eat.
Cool.
When you gonna get your hair cut?|It look like something from 1983.
Ain't nobody cutting my hair.
I'm like Samson.|My strength is in my head.
What's up with the babe|you been talking to?
- Fuck that bitch.|- You scared?
- He ain't scared, he just young.|- And dumb.
I'm putting ketchup on this.
Why you put all that ketchup on it?
Why you worried about it, fool?|These my fries.
We going to see your girl?
No, I'm going to see my girl.|You going home.
There they go, right there.
Turn off the lights.
Hit the lights, nigga.
Take your ass home|and watch some videos.
Home with your mama.
Check that motherfucker out.
Let's get the fuck out of here!
Don't follow me. Go your own way.
- What the fuck?|- What the fuck you doing?
This motherfucker's crazy!
Goddamn, man. And I'm on parole.|Ain't this about a bitch!
What the fuck you doing?
Shit!
Yo, Dough. Let's bail, man.
- Let's go, man!|- Come on, nigga, now!
Man, what the fuck?
Oh, shit!
Let's get the fuck out of here.|Let's go, man. Let's go!
Fuck you, man!
Fuck you!
Turn your punk ass over.
I didn't do it, man.|I didn't pull the fucking trigger.
What the fuck you doing?
Come on, man.
Well, fuck you!
Dough, let's bail, man.
Man, let's move!
- Let's go!|- What the fuck you doing?
- Let's bail, man!|- Let's go, man!
Come on, nigga, let's bail!
Damn! Come on!
Shit, let's get out of here.
Here come the fucking police.
Get your ass in.
What's up?
What's up?
Yo, cuz.
I know why you got|out of the car last night.
You shouldn't have been there|in the first place.
You don't want that shit|to come back to haunt you.
I ain't been up this early|in a long time.
Turned on the TV this morning.
Had this shit on about...
...how we're living|in a violent world.
Showed all these foreign places.
How foreigners live and all.
I started thinking, man.
Either they don't know...
...don't show...
...or don't care about|what's going on in the 'hood.
They had all this foreign shit.
They didn't have shit|on my brother, man.
I ain't got no brother.
Got no mother, neither.
She loved that fool|more than she love me.
Doughboy.
You got some blow? Got some rock?
Get the fuck out of my face!
Keep them goddamn babies|out the street.
Did y'all get 'em?
I don't even know|how I feel about it neither, man.
Shit just goes on and on, you know.
Next thing you know,|somebody might try to smoke me.
Don't matter, though.
We all gotta go sometime, huh?
Seem like they punched|the wrong clock on Rick, though.
Yeah.
I gotta go, cuz.
Hey, Dough.
What's up?
You still got one brother left, man.
Thanks, man.
- Later, G.|- Later.
B-Happy
BBC - The Blue Planet (1 of 8) - Ocean World
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Baxter 1989
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