Chi-Raq Page #9

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I cuts no slack.

So y'all go back to your little

B.B. and Bobby Blue Bland rhythm.

Chi don't get the blues, nigga.

I give 'em.

Old ass Otis know.

This strike got Spartans in

purple drawers with blue balls.

Well, sh*t, Sparta,

that's on y'all.

Just don't seem

the same

Oh, things just don't

Oh, things just don't

seem the same, baby.

Born in Chi-Raq.

This is ridiculous.

No, no, no, no, no.

I done put good paper

out on Chi-Raq.

Why that motherf***er

ain't dead?

- Can't get nobody to pull the trigger.

- What?

Go figure.

I'm telling you, dawg.

Niggas ain't the same no more.

All they wanna do is

just sit around thinking.

- Say what?

- Thinking.

Thinking?

Thinking?

Thinking about what?

- P*ssy?

- Nah, bro.

You thinking about p*ssy?

Purse first, ass last,

motherf***er.

F***, Gs up, hos down.

Whatever happened to that?

Nah, about this gang life.

What?

Beso, look it here.

We're cheese and light fatback, baby.

Top dog since way back.

Come correct with this sh*t now.

What the f*** is going on?

Cyclops, you my man,

50 grand, long and strong.

But I'm telling you

they ain't wrong.

These niggas is shaking like

having a seizure in a dice game.

They minds is racing.

And I got a baby on the way.

- Oh, sh*t.

- I wanna see my shorty grow up

- and not crying over my open grave.

- You're getting soft.

People call it soft,

but think about all the niggas we lost.

They told me it was gonna be rough

when I got out of the joint,

but I didn't know

it was gonna be like this.

What about the war wounds, baby?

War wounds don't mean nothing?

Yeah, the war wounds

was when it meant something.

So what about your name

in the game, huh?

Our name has got us

six feet deep.

Nobody? Nobody?

Jah Rude?

Yard Boy.

Go on now, y'all.

What?

Bumbaclot ratchet.

Cyclops, you might

wanna a hear word, bro.

If you ain't fixin'

to listen to me, bro,

you might wanna listen

to your woman Indigo.

You're not gonna listen?

- Bro, you can at least talk to me.

- Okay, okay.

- Let's talk eye to eye.

- Okay. Okay, yeah.

Eye to eye patch.

Chastity belt keys up.

Like clockwork, Rasheeda.

Go, come on.

Move.

Go, go.

Go, go.

Come on, Doc.

Get on up there, Doc.

There you go.

After you.

Ow.

You're a pig.

If I didn't miss my boo so much,

I would slap

the sh*t out of you!

B*tches and hos,

come out to play.

B*tches and hos,

come out to play.

With our keys, we shall unlock

the sacred brotherhood

of male needs

and seize the means

of reproduction.

Those chastity belts are no

match for a manly man's keys.

Time to let that thing breathe.

So pack up this

Gloria Steinem act

and get y'all ass

back in the damn sack.

Take off those chastity belts

and surrender the armory.

Nobody moves, nobody gets hurt.

- You all right?

- What's going on?

Well, well, well.

What's up?

That all you got?

Girl, this sex strike scheme

ain't nothing but a wet dream.

You're trying to act

all NFL Roger Goodell.

Wench, please,

all you chicks gonna burn in hell.

Don't worry.

If you act polite and not all saditty,

we just might issue you

some damn pity.

Nah, see, we don't wanna fight,

but you Cro-Magnon

can't walk upright.

You old dudes, you lack insight.

Who your mommy and daddy?

I gots no mommy and daddy.

- You ain't got no folks?

- Everybody's my folks.

So you never had a pappy to

school you on the female way.

It takes a man to teach a

heifer like you how to behave.

I'm sorry that our effort to reform

has left you unable to perform.

But even before the strike,

that's what your penile

implants was like...

soft.

Oh, snap!

You trifling little black b*tch.

This ain't no joke.

You old tired d*cks

just want a Viagra poke.

Dude, this is about

life and death,

about a community

that's a wreck.

And you wanna sit here

and talk about how women behave?

Fool, we trying to free

these slaves.

Slaves to the madness.

Slaves to this violence.

And what, you just want us

to silence?

We gonna make sure these fools

put down these guns

and stop thinking

that this craziness is fun.

You see, we women, we understand

that life is about more

than polishing your knobs.

Saving lives, that's our job.

It's about bringing

an end to this strife

and giving the hood

the true meaning of life.

What is the true

meaning of life?

You don't know?

Ole Duke, why don't

we go home, huh?

My mommy is worried about

you and I and the Knights.

- Your mommy?

- Yeah, yeah. Whatever.

Your mommy's on strike, too.

Thank you, guys.

Bye, have a good night.

And don't forget, no peace...

No p*ssy.

No peace, no p*ssy.

Damn!

Brooklyn, put the guns down.

Brooklyn, put the guns down.

Brooklyn, put the guns down.

Brooklyn, put the guns down.

Brooklyn, put the guns down.

Brooklyn...

The president

called me this morning.

- The president?

- He was very upset.

World leaders are in crisis.

The infrastructures of their

country are collapsing.

The leader of the free world

thinks the entire matter

is my fault.

Mr. Mayor,

it's not your fault.

That's right because

it's your cocksucking fault!

The President of the United

States called me a name today.

- No, Mr. Mayor.

- Oh, yes. Oh, yes.

The President of the

United States of America

called me a motherfucking

sorry-ass punk-ass b*tch.

Oh, yes.

It seems the First Lady has taken the oath.

And what's worse,

my wife has taken the oath.

She's a sexy young thing.

Beautiful.

Former model/stripper.

Honey, I'm home.

I'm in the bedroom.

Imhotep arrives.

- Oh. Oh.

- Ahoy, my queen.

Oh, Mr. Mayor, baby.

I am so hot.

Your Honor.

My pharaoh.

I will now take

my Chi-Town Cleopatra.

No peace, no p*ssy.

If I can't have

my wife's pretty bottom,

from your tush

I'll find meaning.

And you'll be squealing like you

were in that movie "Deliverance."

Give this Lysistrata

what she wants.

- She wants world peace.

- Give her f***ing world peace!

You read me?

Get the job done!

Chi-Raq! Chi-Raq!

You know I knew your pops.

Father's in there.

I'm good.

We need you and the Spartans

to come down to the armory

and join in the peach talks.

F*** I care if these lames ain't

getting ass? Ain't my task.

So Lysistrata's not your woman?

Now you're f***ing with my rep.

Bigger than your f***ing rep.

Ain't no such thing.

Father, you know what

I've always wanted to ask you?

What a white boy like you

doing all up in the E-Dub

all these years?

I grew up eight blocks

from St. Sabina.

When I took a vow

to be a priest,

it had to be in the streets

'cause Jesus rolled

with the suffering and the poor.

Imagine no more stray bullets

killing innocent children

like Patti no more.

Bullets ain't got

no name, no eyes.

That's right.

They're just designed

to take lives.

Like they'll take yours

soon, son.

Three places

you're gonna end up...

county morgue,

county hospital or county jail.

People downtown

don't give a f*** about you.

You in the system.

You in jail.

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