We the Party

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1

Who the party?

We the party

Get it, get it, get it

Party

Ain't who you know,

it's who you are

'Cause you the party

We the party, we the people

We the party

It ain't what you drive,

you on your side

You the party

We the party

we the pa-pa-pa-pa-party

When it comes to parties

I swear they call me

the party pro

Got the grind, we the party

We the people

So grab a girl, grab a cup,

put your hands up

Dim the lights

What did I tell you would happen

if you woke up late again?

- What?

- Ah, hell, no.

Wake up!

What did I tell you?

What did I tell you would happen?

This is the third time!

You make us late and I'm

gonna be all up on your ass.

- Okay, Dad, I'm sorry!

- No, no, no. "I'm sorry" don't cut it.

Don't wrinkle my tie, boy.

Take your tickle like a man.

You get up, get up.

Get downstairs.

- Okay, okay. I'm going.

- Downstairs.

Come on, chop-chop.

Man...

Ouch.

Oh, man.

Stella and J. Wise

Throw me a ladder

to reach heaven

Running on air

won't get me nowhere

Throw me a ladder

going through hell

Remember this, guys.

Minimum effort now means...

- Minimum wage later.

- That's right.

How come Hill doesn't have

to eat any of this?

Because Hill woke his ass up

for breakfast this morning.

My brother's a senior.

He has it all.

Fine-ass girlfriend,

already accepted to a good college.

He's cool, and, yeah, b*tch got a car.

Here, this bite of organic nastiness

has your name all over it.

Listen, seriously,

you've got to focus.

You're smart.

But academically, you're being lazy.

If you're lazy, man,

you might as well be stupid.

That's like being 7'4",

and you can't play basketball for sh*t.

People say I look like my dad.

That's scary.

I sure hope I don't end up

with that double-chin sh*t he got.

I mean, there's got to be

a neck exercise or something

you could do for that.

You know what I'm saying?

What are you doing, man?

Are you listening to me?

How come Mom gives Hill her car,

he wrecks it,

and you won't give me jack?

I didn't wreck the car.

It's in the shop for a tune-up.

And I got it from Mom, hater.

Yeah, you bought it for 100 bucks.

Everybody knows that's not fair.

So what? I'm the eldest, bro.

Look, I can't speak for Mom, son.

But I can tell you this.

Brother Malcolm said,

Do for self.

And Brother Malcolm also said,

By any means necessary.

Which means you should get me a car

because it's necessary.

Oh, right. Well, I'm trying

to pay for college.

If I can pay for a good college,

you can have a good education.

With a good education, you can buy the

biggest, stupidest, flyest car you want.

Got that good word, buddy.

Come on and get yours, my man.

Come on, here it is.

Obama T-shirts.

These are handmade special.

One for 12, two for 20.

Gotta get your mama an Obama!

All right, let me break it down for you.

Baldwin Hills High

is like three schools in one.

The regular high, the performing arts,

and the magnet program.

Which basically means we have

all the racial flavors

and all different types of black folks

from the ghetto-hood rap boys saggin'

to the hard-working blue-collar blacks

of South Crenshaw.

The long weekend's coming up,

which means I can finally

make some car money,

'cause Saturday night, we the party.

We the party

- That's f***ed up.

- Whatever, dawg.

- Hey, man.

- Yo.

- What up, b*tch?

- Sh*t, man.

- This is hot, man.

- I know. How many flyers you hand out, bro?

All of them and the e-mail blast.

This sh*t's going to be turked.

See, Chowder, he's one of them

rich Negroes from the hills.

Me and Que go way back

to the Venice Beach skateboard days,

before his dad died of cancer.

Quicktime, he's new to our group.

He's always down for whatever.

This is Obama. The d*ckhead pushing

him down, now that's Reggie.

Obama had whupped Reggie

in a big schoolwide debate

over who should get

the flyest trophies:

the basketball team

or the debate team.

Obama beat Reggie

like he was John McCain.

That's how he ended up

with the name Obama.

Of course, that didn't stop Reggie

from kicking his ass on a daily basis.

Beg forgiveness, and eventually,

he'll stop kicking your wimp ass.

He didn't kick my ass, okay?

Look, he's just humiliating me publicly.

That's right. You were like this.

Do any of you alpha-douches

even have dates to the prom?

Uh, no.

All right, then.

Hey, at least I know I'll get laid way

before frickin' Pizza Face and Nano-man.

Quicktime, you'd need a ladder

to reach the panties.

Man, p*ssy don't have

no height requirement.

It's the same sh*t

when you're laying down, dude.

Yeah!

Okay, you know what?

Let's make a wager here, gentlemen.

The first one of us to

lose his virginity wins.

- Wins what?

- I'm glad you asked.

The ultimate gift:

the praise, the admiration

of your fellow peers.

- Nah.

- And, if we each chip in $20,

a $100 gift certificate to wherever

the f*** you want to go.

Before when, homo?

You must lose your virginity

before or on prom night.

Wait, what if none of us gets laid?

You've been smoking too much.

No money changes hands, dude.

I'm gonna be the treasurer

because I don't need to steal anything.

- So come on.

- You got it.

20,20,and.

Come on,

you cheap-ass nigga.

He knows I'm gonna win, man.

' You'?-.

Lookie here.

I got a five, a five, and a one.

That's 11, I'll hit you with 9 later.

We straight?

Bomb! Yeah!

Oh, guys, guys,

here comes Ro-brocop.

Ultraman scans the yard,

searching for deviants

and concealing a scorching

case of jock itch.

Guys, guys. They wore skirts.

There is a God.

Aw, damn.

So I'll see you home at 1600.

- Yes, sir.

- I trust you'll be walking her home?

Yes, sir.

Okay, then. Have a good day.

Bye, Daddy.

Bye. you guys.

Those shorties so fine,

I want to lick them like a lollipop.

Mm, Schwarz-negro

got some tight-ass glutes.

What's wrong with you, Michelle?

- What?

- That's nasty.

- That's my dad.

- I'll call him Daddy.

Oh, my God, I can't take it.

Doesn't Cheyenne's dad

look like a stripper cop?

Girl, he can turn me over

and have a choice.

Okay, let's change the subject,

'cause it's really gross.

Reality is, you're short,

you've got acne,

- and you're fat.

- Hey, f*** you.

All right, look, we're all 5s,

and they're 10s.

Cheyenne is a vegan goddess.

I mean, perfection.

Her eyes, her scent,

even her voice.

I mean, the lady can sing.

Oh, and oh yeah, that's me.

Checking her out, as usual.

We're juniors,

they're seniors, bro.

Like, with high self-esteem.

Michelle's for sure

going to the prom with Reggie

and Cheyenne, well,

she's a straight-A student

and her uber-cop dad

won't let her mess with anybody

that's below a B+ average.

That's a 3.5 GPA, son.

The last guy that asked Cheyenne out

had some old traffic tickets.

Supercop ran an APB on his ass

and arrested him personally.

- No way.

- Damn.

That's when it hit me.

In just a few months, she would fly East

to some fancy-ass college.

Probably meet some Ivy League douchebag

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