Don't Be a Menace to South Central Page #2

You wakin' up the f***in'

babies, muthafucka!

This still my muthafuckin' house!

Who the f*** is that

on my porch?

- Hey, Mrs. Dog.

- Hey, Ashtray.

- You come to stay

with your daddy for good?

- Yeah.

Come on in.

You tell your pretty-ass,

muthafuckin' daddy I said hello?

Uh, yeah.

Mmm!

Baby, do me a favor and

pass me that sh*t over there.

Hey!

- Care for a little soup?

- No, thanks. I'm cool.

- Oh. Is Loc Dog here?

- Yeah, that lazy-ass

motherf***er is in the back,

doin' nothin', as usual.

- Okay. Well, I'll see you later.

- All right, babe.

Hey, Grandma.

Ashtray! You little

b*tch-ass muthafucka!

Come over here

and give your grandma a hug.

Ah, that's my nigga.

- You been wearin' them jimmy hats

like Grandma gave you?

- Yes, ma'am.

- How are you?

- Oh, my old stinky ass is fine,

'cept for my arthritis

in my trigger finger.

- But I can still stick and move.

- I bet you can.

That beatin' the police give me

didn't slow me down a bit.

C'mon, muthafucka.

Gimme your best shot.

C'mon, Grandma.

I don't wanna do nothin' like that.

- Aw, c'mon.

- Come on, Grandma. I don't

wanna do that. Stop. Come on.

Ooh.

Damn, them fake teeth

are hard.

Bye-bye.

You still hit like a b*tch,

muthafucka.

Loc Dog was

gonna teach me to survive in the hood,

- even if it killed me.

Tray, is that you?

Hey, you better start

announcin' yourself...

before you get smoked

up in here, nigga. Damn!

You know that chronic

make me paranoid, baby.

Come here, you old fool-dog,

mark-ass trick. Gimme some love.

- What's up, cuz?

- All right. That's enough of that love.

I don't play that sentimental sh*t.

Come on. Come in.

Quick fashion question.

Should I wear this Tec-9

with the high-tops?

Mmm? Mmm.

Or should I wear this Uzi

with my low-tops?

Mmm. Mmm. Mmm.

- Uh--

- I'll just wear these then.

Hey, Tray, scoot over. Rumor has

it your b*tch ass is in town for good.

Yeah, man. Moms is beepin'.

She says time for me to become a man.

Oh, n*gger, my mom said

the same sh*t! Sweatin' me, nigga!

Yeah, man. Hey. I don't care though.

You know, I told her,

I don't wanna be on welfare my

whole life; you know what I'm sayin'?

For real, nigga. I got bigger and

better plans. You know what I'm sayin'?

Figure I'll get me a job at the

post office. You know, maybe at a bank.

- That's all good, man.

- Work real hard.

Work my way up to manager.

We need more black people

like this, man.

Learn the system a little bit,

then I'll rob that muthafucka blind.

Break all yourselves.

Hey, Loc, man. Whatever happened

to your pops anyway?

Oh, that old mark-ass nigga ran out

on us like a little biz-nitch.

You know, it's--

- You know, it's kinda tough--

growin' up in the hood

without a--

without a positive male role model

to look up to.

Message.

Aw, nigga, come on.

Let's go get Preach and Crazy Legs

and go to this picnic real quick.

Come on.

Damn!

This is some good sh*t.

- You have your black ass

back here by Friday,

'cause the social worker's

comin' on over here and

I'm still claimin' your ass.

Quit sweatin' me. Shoot.

And Grandma, you better stay out

my lndo, 'fore I smoke your ass!

Aw, go f*** yourself, nigga.

Our friend Preach was a former

gang member turned activist.

- But now he's just plain confused.

- Preach. What up, nigga?

- Y'all need to stop usin'

the word "nigga".

You see, it's terms like the word "nigga"

that the white man uses...

to take away the self-esteem

of another race!

- Word.

- Oh, yeah. Remind me

to pick my laundry up...

from that chink muthafucka

up the street.

Crazy Legs used

to be the best dancer in the hood.

But now he's paralyzed from

the waist down after a drive-by.

What's up, Crazy?

Hey, what's up, y'all? I be right

there, all right?

Whoo!

- That's the way to start the day.

How you doin'?

- Hi, Crazy.

-Hi, yourself. How's my little partner?

-Hello, little pygmy brother.

- All right, African brother.

- Hey, hold that.

Loc Dog didn't

have the flyest ride in the hood,

but it was reliable

in rain, sleet or snow.

Hey, you guys.

Y'all want to see a dead body?

- Yeah! Of course.

- Come on.

- I told you he was dead.

- Man, he stinks!

- What's up, baby boy?

- Hey, where you goin', girl?

Damn! Hey, Tray, if you can't

get nothin' up in here,

- you gonna straight die a virgin.

- Sh*t, man.

Hey, y'all. Look at them

freaks gettin' busy on the dance floor.

There's all kinds

of b*tches here!

What did I tell you about disrespectin'

my Nubian princesses?

- Aw, come on!

- Quit disrespect-- You need--

Oh, my God. The mother of Mecca

is right here before me.

Do my eyes not deceive me...

or am I lookin'

at the goddess lsis herself?

Can you, uh--

Can you do me a favor,

my brown-skinned angel?

Can you tap that white girl for me?

My milk of magnesia. Ohh!

Oh. After the devil made you

he broke the mold.

But maybe you and I could, uh,

make a little jungle fever?

Hey, this one to all my dead homies,

you know what I'm sayin'?

I remember the first time I saw Dashiki.

She was fine enough

to be Jet beauty of the week.

- Yo! Yo, yo, Loc. Loc, come here.

- What's up, n*gger?

- Yo, man. Who's this

fine girl over here?

Oh, n*gger, that's Dashiki.

Stay away from there. Everybody

in the hood's been up with her.

Shoot. She got more kids

than Mrs. Wayans.

- Damn!

- Yeah.

Anyway, that's Toothpick's ex-girl. You

don't want any of that boy's old scraps.

- Toothpick

got used to bein' in jail.

- Damn!

So much so that even on the outside, he

lived like he was still on the inside.

Gimme a knife, boy.

Keep it down. Keep it down.

Hmm? Bone check, homey.

Bone check!

Five dollars a head!

Five dollars.

- I got top!

- Go fish!

- What they in for, man?

- Five dollars, buster!

Oh, I got that.

I can cover that.

Here. Here you go.

What?

Oh, my money ain't good?

Do you know how many

crumb cakes I can get for that?

How many chocolate milks?

How many bars of soap?

Deal my cards! Just hurry up and

deal my cards. Deal, deal, deal!

- All right, n*gger! One up, two.

- Sh*t.

Mmm.

Hello.

- She wants me.

- Why you keep wastin' your time

with that trick?

Tellin' you, you need yourself

somethin' with some class.

Someone you can take home to Stepmama.

You know what I'm tryin' to say?

Get yourself a real woman.

A real woman.

Hey, Tray, you see

that b*tch over there?

- I see her.

- Now, that's a lady.

I bet you I can

get her number.

- N*gger, you ain't gettin'

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