Boyz n the Hood Page #7

Anyway...

...I saw you roll out of Brandi crib

at 2 in the motherfucking morning.

Yo, man, that's my business.

Handle your sh*t, G.

- Peer pressure, man.

- Handle your sh*t.

Don't be like this motherf***er.

This motherf***er got babies,

in-house p*ssy.

Let me do sh*t 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.

Sh*t.

Might as well be,

y'all got a family and sh*t.

Tecmo Bowl-playing motherf***er.

F*** you, man.

Go to the store with me.

Sure, let's do it.

What?

Don't f*** me, f*** 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.

F*** all that sh*t.

I'm going into the f***ing 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 sh*t.

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.

Sh*t. Nothing.

- What?

- I said nothing. I didn't win.

You gotta be Mexican

to win that sh*t.

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 motherf***er

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!

Sh*t.

F***ing 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 motherf***er roll up on the set

one more time, I'll blast his ass.

Sh*t! Rick!

What a relief and sh*t.

- 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 sh*t.

- 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!

Sh*t!

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.

Sh*t!

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 motherf***er

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?

- F*** that b*tch.

- 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 motherf***er out.

Let's get the f*** out of here!

Don't follow me. Go your own way.

- What the f***?

- What the f*** you doing?

This motherf***er's crazy!

Goddamn, man. And I'm on parole.

Ain't this about a b*tch!

Rate this script:3.6 / 12 votes