Patti Cake$ Page #4

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It's in the blood

Tuff love

Making secrets in the dark

Tuff love

Let's run

Hey, hands off the Carvel,

honey. That's for Pop-Pop.

Chill, Ma.

Just cookin' dinner.

You sure like this song.

Did ya get the job?

Did you do what I told ya?

They're gonna call me.

All right. Well, you really

need to let me cut that hair.

I think that look

is holding you back.

- Holy sh*t, Ma, is this you?

- Yeah.

I found it in the basement

while I was cleaning up

for the garage sale.

That's our demo, Tuff Love.

That's my band, Barb Wire.

- Your hair was so big.

- Oh, yeah.

"The higher the hair,

the closer to God."

That's what they said.

But your Nana said that

I looked and sounded like

a two-bit tramp. So...

Uh-uh.

It sounds awesome.

- We were f***in' great, right?

- Yeah...

- Right?

- You look great.

- It sounds great.

- We were gonna be huge.

Everybody was tryin' to sign us.

I mean,

we were so f***in' close.

But your father

and his Midas f***ing touch

had to sh*t on my picnic.

I mean, you can't be pregnant

in leather. No. No.

I mean, I was just a baby.

Your Pop-Pop made us

go to the town hall.

And you were kicking through

the whole ceremony.

Does the fun ever start?

- Ma, you all right?

- I'm fine.

You know, Ma seems depressed.

She's so out of it lately.

Maybe she's got like,

early "Old Timers" or something.

- It's Alzheimer's, Ma.

- Alzheimer's.

She's also on a sh*t-ton

of painkillers.

Well, I want you to spend

a little more time with her.

All right?

You know, take her out during

the day when I'm at work,

maybe get her away

from the television.

- Let her live a little bit.

- Ma, I'm busy.

- You're busy?

- I'm grindin'.

What the f*** is grindin'?

Focusing on my music, you know?

Your music?

Your music?

Since when

do you do music, honey?

You don't have a musical bone

in your body,

and you sure as hell can't sing.

What kinda music

are we talkin' about here?

Well, I've been rapping.

- Rapping?

- Rhyming, MC-ing, you know?

Really?

Jheri and I just booked

our first recording session.

What's your rap singer name?

What are you, like, Dewey

Dewey Dumbdrops or some sh*t?

Hmm?

I'm actually going as Killa P.

Ooh, Killa P. Oh, sh*t.

And what do ya kill, honey?

What do you f***in' kill?

I murder the beat.

Oh, my God, my daughter,

the Son o' Sam.

- Oh, sh*t! Oh, sh*t!

- I'm serious, Ma.

- You're serious?

- Yeah, I'm serious.

Okay, what're you doin'?

You out there doin' drivebys,

doin' shoot-'em-ups?

- F*** you.

- Is that where you go?

F*** me? F*** you!

You know what?

Now, I know why Dad left.

You know, the moment

I get signed, I'm going, too.

Oh, the moment you get signed?

Okay. All right!

When I close my eyes

I see her

Cover my ears

I hear her

I look in the mirror

I'm not gonna be her

So I keep dreamin'

Spit the gospel

Like a preacher

Like O-Z, my teacher

And the day she hears me

Speakin' out every speaker

That's when

She'll be a believer

And I'll drive off

in my Beamer

The last mirror I'll see

her in Is the rear view

When I leave her

Happy anniversary, Franky.

See you real soon.

Hi, Pop-Pop.

Cookie Puss.

Your favorite.

He was a real pain in the ass.

But you know, it kinda

gets lonely without him.

You miss him, too.

My hip's killing me.

Patti Cake

Patti Cake, baker's man

Pop me a perky

As fast as you can

All right.

Here.

- There ya go.

- Thank you.

What the f***?

Hey, you all right, man?

This like a ritual?

You prayin'?

My eye.

Oh, damn. Yeah.

No, let me give you a hand.

Booyah! Gotcha, little sh*t.

Hey, you know

how to use that MPC?

You make beats

on that thing? Yo!

Hey, Jheri, meet me

at the Gates of Hell tunnel

behind the cemetery, now.

No, I'm not effin'

with you, okay?

Just get here and I'll text

you exactly where to meet.

Just trust me, okay?

Go, go, go!

Okay.

Jesus Christ on the cross.

Holy sh*t.

This your crib?

This place is incredible.

This all garbage?

You draw these?

This where the magic happens?

You are totally off the grid.

You like, running from the law

or somethin'?

I don't believe in the law.

I'm an anarchist,

the Antichrist.

Cool.

I think I'm Episcopalian.

What the hell is that?

It's a sculpture

of the Jersey Devil.

You are creepin' the sh*t

out of me. For real.

Look at that, chicken skin.

God damn!

Look at all this satanic sh*t.

Oh, word, I gotta take

a picture of this.

It's like a serial killer

spa in here.

How many bodies you got buried

in here, bro?

What's your Wi-Fi password,

- dawg?

- Out!

- That was some crazy sh*t.

- Jheri, just stay with Nana.

Hey.

- Look, I'm sorry about Jheri.

- Get out.

He's good people,

he just comes off

- a little bougie sometimes.

- Get out.

Sh*t, man, please.

I'm desperate. Okay?

I am on my hands and knees

begging you to give us a chance.

Look.

I've never met anyone

like you before.

And I've seen what you can do.

You've got real stuff to say.

Let us just try something.

And if it don't work out,

I'll leave you alone.

I promise.

I'll be your best friend.

You got any like, trap stuff?

No? Maybe some slow jams,

you know what I'm sayin'?

Something to grind to?

I don't have time for this, P.

Let's go to the diner.

- I'm jettin'.

- Wait. Jheri, get back here.

Look, what about that track

I heard you messin' with before?

You know, the crazy-fast one.

Can you play that for me?

It's f***in' garbage.

Just wait.

Okay, okay.

So let's get rid of all the sh*t

and just keep the beat. Yeah?

Can you do that?

Okay.

Okay. Uh... now we're just gonna

turn the tempo down a smidge.

Do that for me.

Little more. Slower. Slower.

Uh.

That's f***in' bangin'.

See, I told ya

this kid was good.

Time out, man. Time out.

We need somethin' for the club,

somethin' for the ladies.

Gimme the mic, dude.

Watch me Nate-Dogg this sh*t,

real quick.

Uh, uh, uh...

Thick N Thin

In the building

Uh

Thick N Thin in the building

Uh P to the Patti,

J to the Jheri

Uh. Peanut butter, jelly

Peanut butter, Jheri

We got the B-boy Basterd

Straight o' the casket

B to the J

PB to the J

Representin' NJ

We be PBNJ

- Nice.

- Whoo.

Peanut butter

Wonder Bread...

Ooh.

You ready for this?

Peanut butter

To the Wonder Bread

Jam to the Smucker's

Like some impotent dads

We some bad motherfuckers

What?

- That one's on.

- That was great.

Peanut butter

To the Wonder Bread

Jam to the Smucker's

Like some impotent dads

We some bad motherfuckers

Ah!

Patricia!

Sh*t.

Hi, Nana. How was your nap?

I wanna go home. Now.

Nan, we're just in the middle

of somethin'.

Okay?

Can you just wait a second?

Please, for me?

Who's the colored

kid with the glaucoma?

That is my friend, Basterd.

He's an Antichrist.

Don't say colored.

Take me home right now.

I'm gonna tell Barb.

Hey, Nan, how about we hear

that beautiful voice of yours?

So, you're just gonna

repeat the letters, okay?

- This is asinine.

- Come on.

P, B, N, J.

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