Trailer Park Boys: Don't Legalize It

I was out on the West Coast

tryin' to make a buck

And things didn't work

out I was down on my luck

Got tired a-roamin'

and bummin' around

So I started thumbin' back

east toward my hometown

Made a lot of miles

the first two days

And I figured I'd be home in

week if my luck held out this way

But the third night I got

stranded way out of town

At a cold lonely crossroads

rain was pourin' down

I was hungry and freezin'

done caught a chill

When the lights of a

big semi topped the hill

Lord I sure was glad to

hear them air brakes come on

And I climbed in that cab

Where I knew it'd be warm

At the wheel sit a big man

he weighed about two-ten

He stuck out his hand

and said with a grin

Big Joe's the name

I told him mine

And he said the name of

my rig is Phantom 309

You okay man?

I asked him why he

called his rig such a name

- Mr. Green!

- Hey, what's up? What's up?

Good to see you, candy

man. What's up, Hydro?

It's been a minute, dawg.

What's up with y'all?

Sorry about the circumstances

and all that, right? Sayin'.

Yo, what's up with T man?

Man, T at a halfway house,

y'all. But he gonna be here.

What the f*** are you doing here?

- I invited myself.

- Yeah? Well, f***ing get him out of here.

You couldn't wear a f***ing

shirt to a funeral, Randy?

I got the keys. Just take it easy,

- the transmission's slipping.

- Okay.

I'll pick it up after work.

- Do you mind putting some gas in it?

- Sure.

How's the mall, George?

- Good.

- I got some good dope for you,

- I'll bring it by after work.

- Thanks, Ricky.

Good to see you, Julian.

We're not friends, we're business

partners. Don't forget it.

Okay, tough guy.

We've got the buyers in Montreal,

everything's set, bring all you can bring.

Alright, cool.

Did you hear that?

The cops threw the old

man out of the dump,

so he moved to the goddamn parking

lot of the old Zellers downtown.

He was selling hotdogs and

drinking. He was there almost a year.

He wouldn't listen to anybody.

I f***ing warned him

about the propane.

Last Monday at 4 a.m., there

was a great big explosion.

Some bums witnessed it,

said Ray was down there.

F***ing drunk, smoking cigarettes.

Trying to steal propane for his grill

and that was it, f***ing ka-blamo.

Motherf***er, he blew himself up.

Sayin'?

Sad like a motherf***er

too, ain't it?

I was down with Ray, dawg.

I loved that old white boy.

Over this way, please. Everybody

gather around over here.

Get the f*** out of the way.

Thanks for coming today, everyone.

We're gathered here

today at Ray's sanctuary.

This is a place that most of us

would... rightly call the dump.

But not Ray.

For Ray, this was like

his personal paradise.

He...

Sorry.

We're here today to remember Ray, and

all of the things that he taught us.

To celebrate what a

wonderful man he was.

He wasn't wonderful, he was shitty.

Maybe the shittiest man

there ever was, ever will be.

You better shut your

f***ing mouth right now.

Goddamn right, you

bald-headed, bespectacled b*tch!

It's a funeral, motherf***er!

I'm gonna slap the white

boy out your mouths!

You don't disrespect a motherf***er

like that at his own funeral!

- Jamie...

- What the f***'s wrong with you, b*tch?

You too Randy, get the f*** back,

f***ing Simon Cowell with titties!

You're out of f***ing

line right now.

Sorry, Julian.

My apologies, everyone.

Continue.

Can you please just f***ing leave?

- How could you say that?

- Randy, Ray isn't dead.

Piss still flows in the jug, bud.

Come on, Randy.

- How could you say that?

- Rand...

Instant karla, fucky!

F***!

- Jesus Christ, Ricky!

- F***ing a**hole.

Ricky get up. Ricky...

F***ing drunk, Bubbs.

My dad was the...

It's okay, Ricky.

Bubbs, can you f***ing

read this for me?

Yeah, Ricky. It's okay.

Ricky's a little too upset.

- Understandably, so...

- Tyrone!

I'm going to read the

words that he prepared.

My dad wasn't always right,

but he acted like he was.

And that was the most

important thing to be thunk of.

My dad was awesome.

And if you don't like him...

you can f*** off.

That's it. Thank you.

Here's to f***ing Ray.

F***ing way she goes.

Present arms!

F***...

- Jesus Christ, Jacob.

- What the f*** was that?

Weak!

Sorry, Julian.

- Oh my f***, Tyrone!

- What is he doing?

He's breaking the f*** north,

dawg. He hates that halfway house.

He knows if he gets out of the

province they can't f*** with him.

Oh man, that's a dumb move.

He's gonna end up back in jail.

Like you know a lot

about staying out of jail.

How's it going?

Jesus Christ!

F***ing flyers.

My dad said the biggest mistakes of

my life was giving up on growing dope.

Well that, and working for Julian.

And for a while,

I did give up on dope.

Everybody said I was done.

Cops, judges, Lahey...

They all said, and I kofe,

"I'd never, ever grow dope again."

Does this look like I'd

never, ever grow dope again?

F*** those guys. Dope's a part

of me, and I can't change that.

Dope's a part of everybody.

I don't know if you know this,

but people have these naturally occurring

cannabinoid sectors in their brain.

What the f*** do you think

we have those there for?

It's for dope to get

us high, that's what.

The biggest question I had to figure

out last time I went to jail was:

how in the f*** can I keep

doing this and not get caught?

But, I also had to figure out

where in the f*** to grow the dope.

Should I grow it in the trailer park?

Lahey's gonna be f***ing with me,

I'll have cops all over my ass.

It just doesn't f***ing work.

Cops aren't going to f***

with me in the sub-division.

Lahey is definitely not going to

f*** with me in the sub-division.

This is all mine now.

I have all of this,

because my dad said, "Don't

f***ing work with Julian."

Thanks for the f***ing advice,

Dad. Wish you were here, bud.

Ricky did this. He

caused my stroke.

Happened the day he got out of jail,

when he sh*t himself back into this park.

Now I'm a prisoner, and he's free to

go wherever he wants, whenever he wants.

Fortunately he's growing

his dope somewhere else.

But when he shits, he

still shits in the park.

It is dirty f***ing tough.

I mean, I can't get a real

job. Can't get any job.

Employers see how many

times I've been to jail,

and they think it's a mistake

on the goddamn paperwork.

Then I have to say,

"No, no that's accurate,

I've been in there

that many times."

Here's your chicken and liquor.

It's $65, plus $10 for delivery.

You know, so now I've

just been slinging

chicken, and beer, and

cigarettes and liquor to people

for a $10 fee just to get by.

Oh Jesus, I almost

forgot your cigarettes.

Corey Hart! Ha! Ha!

It wasn't f***ing easy.

I got out of jail and I was just as

broke and f***ed up as everyone else.

So... I fell back on

bouncing at the Red Knight.

This skinny little prick was f***ing

around, got up on the bar, started dancing.

He was wasted, I was wasted.

I grabbed a hold of him, threw

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