#HOW BOUT DEM DAWGS

[codedsoul]

#GoDawgs 🐶🐾🐾🐾

[dainschult576]

As I Look Into Hell

On a different note, how 'bout dem dawgs?  Two in a row and let's go for three...

[dhurricane23]

How bout dem Dawgs https://www.instagram.com/p/Cm3FMQaO3NoqEAVHH0k4-n9RNfjoUXsPiaB3ZQ0/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[redjeep]

When ya sign the No.1 recruiting class in the country... =]

[duvayknox]

NOSE OPEN

I caught a whiff n a sniff of dat FANTASIA CO-LOG-NEE she had on n jes bout lost mah mind. Cuz DATS mah shit on a womayne. And she was walkin wit dat GOOD PUSSY WALK too n all da Niggaz she met fell in line beehind her/Stone in Luv wit dat BITCH. And she werked us ALL too/kept our POCKETS DRY as BABY POWDER. Erry week I WOKE Up a BROKE DICK DAWG tryna make it thru til next payday jes to wind up giving mah LOOT to dis Bitch A-Gin. Bitch had a RING in mah nose bigger den dem ones U see on dem AFRIKAN Niggaz. I dam was retty 2 putt a PLATE in mah LIPP 4 dis Bitch. Wutever she said I was retty 2 doo it. Cuz dats how FUCKED UP I was over her.

[thenightowl4l]

Ring

Ring

Rin-..

You groaned a little as you turned on your back and lifted your hand to turn off your alarm which was set for 11am. Before you got up you stretched your body and it was the best feeling ever you loved how every morning when you woke up and stretch how it gives a tingling sensation. You set up on the edge of your bed, rubbed your crust filled eyes to clear up your vision a little, stood up, and walked inside the bathroom to get ready for the day. You turned on the shower on warm and did your face wash routine in the shower. Once you were done with showering you got out dried off with a towel and brushed your teeth ,did your hair, put on a really cute fit

and went into the kitchen to make some eggs and bacon. (bacon low key not my thing..don't come for me) you opened up the cabinets and searched for the non stick pan that Vicky messed up so now it's a stick pan. You were clinking and clacking the pans so loud early in the morning,Tryin to find that stupid pan.

" omg are you serious y/n making all that noise early in the morning... and fa what?!"

Victoria semi yelled still half asleep in her spongebob pj's slightly mean mugging you with her purple bonnet on.

" ooh I'm sorry did I wake up princess swine " you said giggling a little while finally grabbing the pan you were lookin for. Victoria laughed a little but still mad at you for waking her up.

" look girl ion got time for yo silly jokes all i wanna know is we're is going early this morning?"

" oop I thought I told you"

"Well it's clear you didn't"

"My bad I'm going to the mall"

Victoria scrunched up her face wondering out loud

" why so early tho?"

" you know to get a head start, ion like to be there with all dem dawg on people breathin on my neck while I'm looking at somethin" you said annoyed

" oooh girl that's understandable, but what you goin for"

"I forgot to tell you I saw kuroo at the store and he invited me to his friends party and I wanna look mad cute pulling up in that mug" you said smirking evilly

" oh Fr?! I wanna go, can I?"

" girl of course you can go, I was gonna let you come anyway I just didn't wanna wake you up for the mall this early since the party is just in a few days"

"Well I'm up now lemme get dressed and we can head out"

"Aight don't take all day "

///(timeskip)

Y'all been the mall for a hot minute you went Into several stores. At this point the both of you could just collapse and take a nap right on that floor yall were so tired.

" girl u see that smoothie place ova there" Vicky said while raising her weak finger in the air pointing to it looking like a evil witch hand.

" oh yea I do let's get some" you said tired.

The both of you walked weakly toward the smoothie place and ordered Your drinks you both got the same thing since you didn't feel like thinking bout what you wanted.

You payed for you and Vicky and sat down on a near by bench and starting talking

" Yea gurl I cant believe you ran Into kuroo, what a coincidence" Vicky said

" Yea I know right and he had the audacity to invite me to party but guess who still goin"

" you... dummy haha" Vicky said laughing and slurping on her smoothie fast which made her get a brain freeze.

" shut up heffa and that's exactly what you get, but I'm not going fa him I'm going fa myself."

"To stunt on him...right?" Vicky said still coughing a little

" exactly... I just hope his girlfriend dont be there..she give me weird vibes"

"Oh yea I know what you talking bout...you know what her problem is?" Vicky asked while smacking on her drink.

"What?!"

" she's a starer" vicky said giving you a look while slurping

" omg gurl you right that's exactly what it is...I be feeling like I be watched or something" you said gently hitting her arm as your eyes widen from excitement that your friend figured out what it is was.

"Mmh you know I be knowing gurl, I know dem types ....just crazy" Vicky said

" you think so?"

"Yes hunny it's so obvious" Vicky said slightly rolling her eyes while chewing on her straw

"You might be  right" you said nodding your head

"I'm always right" Vicky said giggling

"Mmh but still I-

"Hey"

A low voice interrupted you, you turned around with a 'I'm bout to fight whoever just interrupted me face'. But then realized it was the person you least expected. So you calmed down and said

"Hi kiyoko"

[humankoalaa]

Black Lightning 3X08

*SPOILERS AHEAD*

krondons eyes are so pretty.

anissas in flannel cause she misses grace. it is law.

lolol gambi told anissa pierce her powers are back then told her she should rest 🤡

and well nissa said exactly what everyone thought.... PLEASE.

everytime they bring up jeff was an olympian a track star at that it kills me 😂 everytime he runs in an episode im like wayment.... sumn don’t add up 😩 IM SORRY.

anissa you bet not go ask jamila 🙄

tobias.... are you flirting with and insulting this woman? 😂

this clown 🤣🤣🤣🤣 he stays with the earth wind and fire jokes.

lynn tawm bout she aint naiive 🤣 GIRL.

lynn.... you’re too smart to be THIS stupid. im tiyerd y’all.

tobias like that little kid at the park you know ain’t shit but you like listen to his bullshit cause he might be woke when really he’s just using you to see just how stupid you are and you’re too stupid to realize it cause well.... math.

“pantene commercial looking ass” 🤣🤣 okay auntie.

jenns wig 😩 i can’t. CANNOT.

jamila ass damn near wet herself when she saw blackbird sis licking her chops and everything 🤣🤣 if she only knew what we know 🙂 you hads dem cakes already sis .... how you don’t know them eyebrows jamila?!! howwww 🥴

jeff and this damn shoulder towel in the kitchen 🤣🤦🏾‍♀️

“what i do now?” 😩😂 jeff is TIYERD y’all.

jenn and all these parties she blames for everything 😂🤦🏾‍♀️

jace need to die.

there go ex trackstar jefferson pierce looking like he just learned to run at breakfast but i digress. and don’t even blame him being up in age. that form y’all 😩 SORRY.

mrs. shepard chilling in the crib growing selling her weed and sis even got a lil gun 😭 a queen i stan.

man ain’t nobody take more L’s and disappointment speeches than Jeff 😩 leave my grandad alone man.

i know dass right pawpaw. LFG!!!!

black lightning got the littist soundtrack ever. black moses is zat funk!

battery ram that! sunny with a chance of meatballs looking mother fu... 😴

yes uncle gambi! so do WE!

nissa looking at the thunder suit like she BETTER look at Grace when she comes back.

“sir... we really doing this?.... lil old lady just wants to stay in her apartment” - EVERYONE and the ASA agent who ain’t tryna get barbecued ❤️

them orders gon get you fried big dawg.

WAIT! thunder said hold my beer came in stomped dat ass. ive missed that lil inhale so much 😭

LMAO timeout! so they just gon disrespect jeff whilst he holding shit down? agent beret said fall back soon as thunder came in 🤣🤣🤣🤣 they got to stop doing jeff dirty on HIS own show 😩🤦🏾‍♀️ that just tickled me to pieces.

awwwww jeff when he sees anissa as thunder 😭 a reunion i stan. their smiles y’all ima cry. ive missed them fighting ALONGSIDE 😩

oh no... no no ... what in the hell i know they got black lightning and thunder... but henderson and friends really bout to rise up against the ASA with shotguns?! like are y’all gonna ask for a timeout to reload while these fools got automatic everything?! a ninja dat goes by painkiller and he got venom and whatever else he got in the usb? you know what... ima leave it alone for the story 🤦🏾‍♀️ i can’t 😂🥴

gambi... you posed to be dead 😩

soon as gambi said “show yourself” i started singing the song from frozen 2. 🎶 SHOW YOURSELF. IM READY TO LEAARRRNNN AAAHHH AAA AAAAHH AAAHHH 🎶 😩

awwww gambi forever winning allllsss the trust.

lynn you can’t be this stupid 😂 tobias is literally not even trying and she’s just like say no more bae i mean friend? ugh just a mess.

im just mad that jenns wig is the way it is 🤦🏾‍♀️ but at least hair makes her feel less like a freak.... if SHE only knew what WE know bout her ex 👀

barron... i mean TC... you wanna come talk to my bank account and all the ATM’s within a 20 mile radius of my crib?

i need TC and gambi to become besties.

ooooooo painkiller and thunder let’s go!

lmao “cute suit” ...THIS painkiller is my favorite version of khalil.

Lmao he sized her up like “shit... this might’ve been a bad idea” she hit his ass so hard that brain chip looked like it shorted out 😩

oh shit i forgot she didn’t use her powers last time they fought... ruh roh. OMG she’s beating his ass 🤣🤣🤣🤣 he sized her up again 😭 shit thunder look like she got stronger 🤤

yeah that chip fried oh shit she beat his ass back to reality and now she knows hes khalil 🤭

no khalil. put the glasses back on and just leave. you don’t wants no smoke 😩 AYYYYYY thunderclap dat ass.

lmao i love how painkiller goes down and agent beret just asks “how” 😩😂 like really dude?! how you don’t know real metas vs makeshift metas only ends well for the real ones?

TC telling gambi move is a whole mood. PLEASE tell me they become pals 😭

it’s starting to look like they bout to get into the outsiders arc. i am spongebob ready! hear me?!

lynn said i need to get the cure and grabbed all the nearest green light 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 mannnnnn why they do my nana like this 😩

ion know who that ASA dude is but he a real one.

she screaming for her bag im 💀💀💀💀 yes cold turkey her ass!

lmao down goes agent beret!

🤣🤣🤣🤣 mrs. sheppard said she gotta check on her plants 💀

another great episode! see y’all next week before the drought 😭

[placeholdeds]

How do you like having a blog? How are other people on the site treating you so far?

“Ignorin all dem unfresh weedin jokes peeps sendin in all da time, I can’t complain bout nothin, broski~”

“An ta answer da second part o ya question, dawg, I ain’t met dat many peeps YET- but dat’s only fo’ lack o tryin, ah haha! Radsisstant told me bout some kinda ‘incident’ wit anotha me a while back, so makin pals might be a bit more o a challenge den I’m used ta, yo! But ey. Dat just makes it a CHALLENGE, yanno, an I’m always down fo one o those!!

[betweenstories]

CHAPTER 24

“Girl, you know what winks and then fucks like a tiger?”

I arch a brow and try not to grin at LeRoy, the resident charmer currently holding court behind the Jade Bar.

LeRoy flashes me a wide smile. His brilliant white teeth shine bright against his blue/black skin.

As if he’s posing for the cover of Muscle and Fitness magazine, he arranges himself in an Atlas pose, flexes a massive bicep, and delivers an exaggerated, cheeky wink.

At that, I laugh out loud.

“I’ll give that one an eight. Actually, make it a nine. The bicep action was a nice touch.”

LeRoy chuckles as he pulls a small note pad from his back pocket. Plucking the pencil from behind his ear, he jots down the number.

I sip my Ginger Fig Martini—yuck! too sweet!—and try to hide my reaction.

“What’s the score now?”

After a moment of silent calculation, LeRoy announces, “In the World Championship for best corny pick-up line artist, I’m up by three.” He points at me with the pencil. “Time to bring your A-game, babe.”

I wrinkle my nose.

“I’ve never liked that endearment. Every time I hear it, all I can think about is the pig from the movie.”

LeRoy laughs. “Okay. Time to bring your A-game, chica. Is that better?”

I wobble my splayed fingers back-and-forth in a “so-so” motion.

We’d met LeRoy our second night in town when we’d stopped in for a nightcap at the Jade Bar. The moment I’d heard his thick accent, I’d bonded in the manner of all true southerners “abroad”—instantly and loyal unto death. Taking in the sheer mass of the male specimen, I’d known he had to be an ex-linebacker. Standing on the bar rail, I’d raised my palm high, and in my best southern drawl, I’d shouted above the clamber of the bar,

“Hey Georgia! How ‘bout dem dawgs!?”

His face had instantly split into a wide grin, and then he’d nearly taken my arm off with an overly exuberant high-five.

Once the bar rush had ended, he’d parked a rack of clean glasses on a nearby cooler and begun polishing wine stems before sliding them into the overhead rack.

Reading bartender code for, “I’ve got time to talk, I’d motioned to his name tag and asked if he went by LEE-roy or luh-ROY, because I had no desire to insult royalty. He’d smiled huge and flashed his pearly whites.

“My Mama called me her little king. She was the only one evuh’ called me luh-ROY, but you can call me anything you like.” With a wink, he’d added, “You can even call a ride for ol’ LeRoy when he leaves yo’ bed in the mawnin’.”

I’d decided right then, that LeRoy was unique in all the world. How many people could get away with speaking about themselves in the third person? None I’d ever met. LeRoy had just made it seem easy.

Just then, you’d returned from the restroom. I’d thought the Georgia boy would have the good grace to be embarrassed. Not so. He’d flirted with you as aggressively as he had with me. I think it was just his personality.

I’d wondered how you’d react to this male attention, but you’d handled it with the same aplomb you handled everything else.

When LeRoy had leaned on the bar and said, “I heard you English are the biggest freaks in the bedroom. How ‘bout you? Wha’s yo’ kink?”

You hadn’t missed a beat.

Grinning wide, you’d said, “I’m into listening to a southern woman tell me knock-knock jokes while she braids her hair before bed. Is that a kink?”

LeRoy’s laugh had been hearty, infectious.

Back in the present, I think, “Down by three!” and my competitive spirit kicks in.

Clearing my throat, I sit up straight and crack my mental knuckles.

“You might want to brace yourself for this one.”

LeRoy chuckles.

I catch a glimpse of myself in the back bar mirror.

Tonight’s hair is “concert style”: slicked back ponytail high atop my head (good for if it’s hot inside the venue) with the entire length braided into a long, loose fishtail.

With slow, exaggerated movements, I lift my hand. My silver bracelets chime as they tumble down from my wrist to my elbow. Circling my fingers around the top section of the braid, I lower my eyes to half-mast and slide my fist slowly down the length. I move back up to the top and stroke down once again.

When I reach the end a second time, I bring the tip to my mouth and slide it back and forth over my bottom lip. Pitching my voice an octave lower, I let my words roll out slow. For LeRoy’s benefit, I inject as much of the south into my accent as possible.

When I see the pulse point in his neck kick into high gear, I deliver my entry for best corny pick-up line.

“Hey, Big Guy.... I hope you got a good lawyuh...”

I close my eyes and softly moan. When I open them again, I lean forward and whisper,

“ .... ‘cause you just caused a flood in my basement.”

Immediately, I fall out of character. Dropping my braid, I’m all innocence as I sip my too-sweet martini.

LeRoy blinks once and then there’s that grin again.

“Day-yum, girl. You bettah get a permit for that voice, ‘cause you can slay fo’ sho’.”

I smile and wonder how much of LeRoy’s twang is fo’ show.

After writing in his note pad again, he points at me. “Up by seven.” He smiles. “You might wanna brace yourself for this one.”

In a move I’m sure took countless hours to perfect, he stretches his arms up to grasp the top edge of the overhead glass rack. His shirt comes untucked revealing three inches of finely chiseled male.

Before he speaks, I jump in, “Ten! Tens across the board for the best v-cut I’ve ever seen!”

Trapezoids dancing, LeRoy grins at me. “You sure you ain’t hittin’ on me? ‘Cause it feels like you’re hittin’ on me.”

“I’m sure.” I tap my chin as I look to the ceiling. “Actually, I’m ninety-two percent sure.”

LeRoy shakes his head.

“You might be worse than I am.”

“Entirely possible.”

As LeRoy clears away my plate, he tells me he likes a woman who cleans her plate. I thank him for the compliment.

For me, food is gas for my vehicle. Having dessert and high sugar alcohol for lunch had been low-grade fuel. I’d needed every bite of the simple grilled chicken breast and steamed veggies to get something better in my tank. When he starts to take my martini glass, I start to protest.

“I know you doan like it.” With a wink he adds, “You doan hafta be gentle with ol’ LeRoy.”

“In that case, luh-ROY, I’ll try the Ruinart. Where I’m from, nobody sells it by the glass.”

Just then, my spidey-sense tingles. I feel as if I’m being watched. I scan the room for the source until my gaze lands on you.

Casually leaning an elbow on the far end of the polished oak bar, your gaze is locked on mine. I can just make out the faint smile that always hides at the corner of your mouth, the one that peeks out whenever our eyes meet.

You’ve shaved. The line between your beard and cheek is sharp. I watch as you take in my thick braid, my deep red lips. I see the way heat flares in your expression as you track down to my skin tight black leather pants. When you raise your gaze, I don’t miss the way you zero in on my thin white tee, the black lace demi-bra, or—more specifically—the two tight points visible underneath.

Tucking a hand in the front pocket of your jeans, you hook your black leather jacket on a finger and drape it over your shoulder. My body hums, electric, as you slowly stroll my way. I glance at your midnight blue cashmere sweater, the sweater I’d once told you I loved to rub my bare breasts against. Your sleeves are pushed up to just below your elbows. Wicked man! I know you’ve done this on purpose. I know because I see your smirk when you see me notice.

Pre-you, I hadn’t noticed forearms whatsoever. Now, I wish I had a “forearm of the month” wall calendar featuring you in twelve themed vignettes. I smile and silently deem this look, “Mr. October.”

A few months earlier, I’d texted you, “I’m currently imagining riding you till I’m slick with sweat. I want to pin your arms over your head, wrap my fingers tight around your forearms and suck on your tongue till you buck beneath me, till I scream, till you fill me up with... compliments.” I hadn’t realised auto-correct had struck again until you’d texted back,

“Yes, please! 😋 But is “firearms” a euphemism? Even if it’s not, my answer’s still yes!! We’ll have to explore this whilst on your side of the pond though, as they’re basically illegal for civilians here.”

Suddenly, you’re in front of me. You bend and kiss me slow and sweet. Your mouth is soft and warm. You taste faintly of peppermint.

I smile. “You can do that again if you’d like.”

Draping your jacket over the back of a bar stool, you slip your hands around my waist and kiss me again.

“Y’all need to get a room, for real.” LeRoy slides a wine stem from the overhead rack, holds it up to the light to check for water spots, then pours a generous glass of your new favorite Merlot.

At that moment, a server appears, dome-covered plate in hand. LeRoy takes the plate and places it in front of you. With great ceremony, he lifts the lid to reveal ...

Brows furrowed, I lean in for a better look. It smells fantastic, but I have no idea what he’s revealed. Since you’d talked to LeRoy about food for more than an hour a few nights earlier, I’d left your meal selection up to him.

Reminding me of a big-eyed puppy, LeRoy looks at you, eager, clearly seeking your approval. He announces, “Braised oxtail tacos with chef’s special sauce.

You unroll your silverware.

“Thank you, my friend. It smells delicious. What’s chef’s special sauce?”

“It’s his secret. All I know is it’s good. It’s what I imagine it would taste like to go down on Charlize Theron.

While you chuckle, I raise a forefinger, “I’ll have a plate of that please.”

At that, you and LeRoy both laugh. While you tuck into your meal, you pepper LeRoy with enough compliments to send him into service personnel ecstasy.

“LeRoy and I were in the middle of a contest for best corny pick-up lines.

At that, LeRoy’s expression turns mischievous. “Okay, I got one.”

Propping an elbow on the bar in front of you, his bicep bulges as he pinches the material of his shirt and rubs it between thumb and forefinger.

“You know what kind of fabric this is?”

Fork suspended in mid-air, you shake your head.

LeRoy grins. “Threesome material.”

I never thought I’d live to see the day, but you’ve actually been rendered speechless. A fine blush spreads over your cheeks.

LeRoy maintains his grin. “Think about it. S’all I’m sayin’.”

Still shaking your head, you take a large bite of oxtail.

Twenty minutes later, you take your last sip of wine while I take my last sip of champagne. When I turn to look at you, your eyes are suddenly fierce.

Seizing my hand, you press a kiss against my palm. Your lips are soft and warm.

“What was that for?”

You raise my hand to your face, close your eyes, and press my palm to your cheek before covering it with your own. You inhale deep.

“I’m happy. That’s all.”

Such a simple statement. In this moment, I realize I’m happy as well. I raise your other hand to my cheek, smile as I cover it with my own.

“Seriously, don’t y’all have somewhere to be?”

With a look of feigned irritation, LeRoy clears away your plate and wipes down the bar.

I check the time on my phone while you look at your watch.

I lean over the bar and speak low. “Just put this on mine with thirty percent. Kay?”

He nods. We’d discovered the easiest way to handle travel expenses was to split the room charge and keep separate accounts for additional charges. We took turns paying for food. We didn’t have to clear personal purchases with each other, and it made my accounting easier since I could write off some expenses on my taxes.

Thanking LeRoy, you reach over the bar to shake his hand. “Have a great night. Maybe we’ll see you later? Are you closing?”

He shakes his head. “I’m here till Volume, so probably not.”

Flashing his mega-watt smile, he adds, “But y’all have fun and tell Teddy I said hello.”

[stonpoet-thestoneddisciple]

STON POET - PAPERS OVER BLUNTS..(TGOD)

Uhh, TGOD mon, TGOD yeah, (TGOD mon*2)..

Uhh, papers over blunts , TGOD we smoking KK dawg..Papers over blunts, TGOD we smoking getting paid dawg..

TGOD, OFTR JETLIFE mane..We all in the sky aye, shining like how stars be..Wanna take my soul, can't kill me mon I stay alive..Like Im 2pac he ain't died, Imma be right by his side..Young Ston Poet, ain't spitting no lies..Imma spit dat fire, pit, make them burn like revelations..

Gotta make them fake muthafuckers learn quick, cause they ain't gone keep disrespecting us man..Keeping us down homie, got us killing each other nigga, the government the one that organize this program..So we can't just stay on our ass..Turn them guns ta-wards the government officials, talking bout like Malcolm X...

They like fuck the truth, they don't wanna hear dat, so Imma bouta just go ballistic man..Fuck all this struggling ain't bitching, Im just saying lifes hard man..But can't be worrying stressing, Im smoking not depress man, Uhh...

/Uhh, papers over blunts, TGOD we smoking KK dawg..Papers over blunts, TGOD we smoking getting paid dawg..\*2

Papers over blunts, TGOD dawg rolling weed mon..So much weed gone, have ta start growing..Always rebeling ain't going ta hell mon, sin not perfect my nigga..We gone (torture dem*2) frauds, so much pain we bringing, OFTR TGOD, papers over blunts nigga..

[codedsoul]

How Bout Dem Dawgs 🐶🐾🐾

[darkshreaders]

the bee movie scrip(gizoogle version ps i am sorry)

Accordin ta all known lawz of aviation, there is no way a funky-ass bee should be able ta fly. Its wings is too lil' small-ass ta git its fat lil body off tha ground. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da bee, of course, flies anyway cuz bees couldn't give a fuckin shiznit what tha fuck humans be thinkin is impossible. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Ooh, black n' yellow! Letz shake it up a lil. Barry dawwwwg! Breakfast is locked n loaded dawwwwg! Ooming! Hang on a second. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Hello, biatch? - Barry, biatch? - Adam, biatch? - Oan you believe dis is happening, biatch? - I can't. I be bout ta pick you up. Lookin sharp. Use tha stairs. Yo crazy-ass daddy paid phat scrilla fo' them. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Sorry. I be excited. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shiznit happens all tha time yo. Herez tha graduate. We straight-up proud as a muthafucka of you, son. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch fo' realz. A slick report card, all B's. Straight-up proud as a muthafucka as a muthafucka.Ma! I gots a thang goin here, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. - Yo ass gots lint on yo' fuzz. - Ow! Thatz me biaaatch! - Wave ta us muthafucka! We bout ta be up in row 118,000. - Bye biaaatch! Barry, I holla'd at you, stop flyin up in tha doggy den biaaatch! - Yo, Adam. - Yo, Barry. - Is dat fuzz gel, biatch? - A lil. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Special day, graduation. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Never thought I'd make dat shit. Three minutes grade school, three minutes high school. Those was awkward. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Three minutes college. I be glad I took a thugged-out dizzle n' hitchhiked round tha hive. Yo ass did come back different. - Yea muthafucka, Barry. - Artie, growin a mustache, biatch? Looks good. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I be fly as a gangbangin' falcon, soarin all up in tha sky dawwwwg! - Hear bout Frankie, biatch? - Yeah. - Yo ass goin ta tha funeral, biatch? - Fuck dat shit, I aint going. All Y'all knows, stin one of mah thugs, you take a thugged-out dirt nap. Don't waste it on a squirrel. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Such a hothead. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I guess his schmoooove ass could have just gotten outta tha way. I gots a straight-up boner fo' dis incorporatin a amusement park tha fuck into our day. It make me wanna hollar playa! Thatz why our phat asses don't need vacations. Boy, like a lil' bit of pomp... under tha circumstances. - Well, Adam, todizzle we is men. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. - We is biaaatch! - Bee-men. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. - Amen! Hallelujah! Students, faculty, distinguished bees, please welcome Dean Buzzwell. Welcome, New Hive Oitizzle graduatin class of... ...9:15. That concludes our ceremonies fo' realz. And begins yo' game at Honex Industries muthafucka! Will we pick ourjob todizzle, biatch? I heard itz just orientation. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. Headz up! Here we go. Keep yo' handz n' antennas inside tha tram at all times. - Wonder what tha fuck it'll be like, biatch? - A lil freaky. Yo, wuz crackalackin', biatch? Yo ass is smokin Honex, a gangbangin' finger-lickin' division of Honesco n' a part of tha Hexagon Group. This is dat shiznit son! Wow. Wow. We know dat you, as a funky-ass bee, have hit dat shiznit yo' whole game ta git ta tha point where you can work fo' yo' whole game yo. Honey begins when our valiant Pollen Jocks brang tha nectar ta tha hive. Our top-secret formula be automatically color-corrected, scent-adjusted n' bubble-contoured tha fuck into dis soothang dope syrup wit its distinctizzle golden glow you know as.. yo. Honey dawwwwg! - That hoe was hot. - Dat hoe mah cousin! - Biatch is, biatch? - Yes, we all cousins. - Right. Yo ass is right. - At Honex, we constantly strive ta improve every last muthafuckin aspect of bee existence. These bees is stress-testin a freshly smoked up helmet technology. - What do you be thinkin he makes, biatch? - Not enough cause I gots dem finger-lickin' chickens wit tha siz-auce yo. Here our crazy asses have our sickest fuckin advancement, tha Krelman. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. - What do dat do, biatch? - Oatches dat lil strand of honey dat hangs afta you pour dat shit. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Saves our asses millions. Oan mah playas work on tha Krelman, biatch? Of course. Most bee thangs is lil' small-ass ones. But bees know dat every last muthafuckin lil' small-ass thang, if itz done well, means all muthafuckin day. It make me wanna hollar playa! But chizzle carefully cuz you gonna stay up in tha thang you pick fo' tha rest of yo' game. Da same thang tha rest of yo' game, biatch? I didn't give a fuck dis shit. Whatz tha difference, biatch? You'll be aiiight ta know dat bees, as a flavas, aint had one dizzle off up in 27 mazillion years. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So you gonna just work our asses ta dirtnap, biatch? We bout ta shizzle try. Fuck dis shiznit son! That blew mah mind hommie! "Whatz tha difference?" How tha fuck can you say that, biatch? One thang forever, biatch? Thatz a crazy chizzle ta gotta make. I be relieved. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Now we only gotta make one decision up in tha game. But, Adam, how tha fuck could they never have holla'd at our asses that, biatch? Why would you question anything, biatch? We bees. We da most thugged-out perfectly functionin society on Earth. Yo ass eva be thinkin maybe thangs work a lil too well here, biatch? Like what, biatch? Give me one example. I don't give a gangbangin' fuck. But you know what tha fuck I be poppin' off about. Please clear tha gate. Royal Nectar Force on approach. Wait a second. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Oheck it out. - Yo, dem is Pollen Jocks muthafucka! - Wow. Ya Mom shoulda told ya, I never peeped dem dis close. They know what tha fuck itz like outside tha hive. Yeah yo, but some don't come back. - Yo, Jocks muthafucka! - Yea muthafucka, Jocks muthafucka! Yo ass muthafuckas did pimped out son! Yo ass is monsters muthafucka! Yo ass is sky freaks muthafucka! I gots a straight-up boner fo' dat shiznit son! I gots a straight-up boner fo' dat shiznit son! - I wonder where they were, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. - I don't give a gangbangin' fuck. Their dayz not planned. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Outside tha hive, flyin whoz ass knows where, bustin whoz ass knows what. Yo ass can'tjust decizzle ta be a Pollen Jock. Yo ass gotta be bred fo' dis shit. Right. Look. Thatz mo' pollen than you n' I'ma peep up in a gametime. It aint nuthin but just a status symbol. Bees make too much of dat shit. Perhaps. Unless you bustin it n' tha ladies peep you bustin dat shit. Those ladies, biatch? Aren't they our cousins too, biatch? Distant. Distant. Look at these two. - Oouple of Hive Harrys. - Letz have funk wit dem wild-ass muthafuckas. Well shiiiit, it must be fucked up bein a Pollen Jock. Yeah. Once a funky-ass bear pinned mah crazy ass against a mushroom! Dude had a paw on mah throat, n' wit tha other, da thug was slappin me biaaatch! - Oh, mah dawwwwg! - I never thought I'd knock his ass out. What was you bustin durin this, biatch? Tryin ta alert tha authorities. Put ya muthafuckin choppers up if ya feel dis! I can autograph dis shiznit fo' realz. A lil gusty up there todizzle, wasn't it, comrades, biatch? Yeah. Gusty. Our thugged-out asses hittin a sunflower patch six milez from here tomorrow. - Six miles, huh, biatch? - Barry dawwwwg! A puddle jump fo' our asses yo, but maybe you not up fo' dat shit. - Maybe I am. - Yo ass aint son! We goin 0900 at J-Gate. What do you think, buzzy-boy, biatch? Is you bee enough, biatch? I might be. Well shiiiit, it all dependz on what tha fuck 0900 means. Yo, Honex! Dad, you surprised mah dirty ass. Yo ass decizzle what tha fuck you interested in, biatch? - Well, there be a a shitload of chizzles. - But you only git one. Do you eva git bugged out bustin tha same thang every last muthafuckin day, biatch? Son, let me rap  bout stirring. Yo ass grab dat stick, n' you just move it around, n' you stir it around. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Yo ass git yo ass tha fuck into a rhythm. It aint nuthin but a funky-ass dope thang. Yo ass know, Dad, tha mo' I be thinkin bout it, maybe tha honey field just aint right fo' mah dirty ass. Yo ass was thankin of what, makin balloon muthafuckas, biatch? Thatz a gangbangin' finger-lickin' dirty-ass shitty-ass thang fo' a muthafucka wit a stinger n' shit. Janet, yo' sonz not shizzle da thug wants ta go tha fuck into honey dawwwwg! - Barry, yo ass is so funky sometimes. - I aint tryin ta be funky. Yo ass aint funky dawwwwg! Yo ass is goin tha fuck into honey. Our son, tha stirrer playa! - Yo ass is gonna be a stirrer, biatch? - No onez listenin ta me biaaatch! Wait till you peep tha sticks I have. I could say anythang n' aint a thugged-out damn thang dat yo' ass can do. I'ma git a ant tattoo! Letz open some honey n' big-up biaaatch! Maybe I be bout ta pierce mah thorax. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Shave mah antennae. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Shack up wit a grasshopper n' shit. Git a gold tooth n' call dem hoes "dawg"! I be soopa-doopa proud as a muthafucka as a muthafucka.- We startin work todizzle dawwwwg! - Todayz tha day. It make me wanna hollar playa! Oome on! All tha phat thangs is ghon be gone. Yeah, right. Pollen counting, stunt bee, pouring, stirrer, front desk, afro removal... - Is it still available, biatch? - Hang on. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Two left son! One of themz yours muthafucka! Oongratulations muthafucka! Step ta tha side. - What'd you get, biatch? - Pickin crud out. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Stellar playa! Fuck dis shiznit son! Oouple of newbies, biatch? Yes, sir playa! Our first dizzle dawwwwg! We is locked n loaded dawwwwg! Make yo' chizzle. - Yo ass wanna go first, biatch? - Fuck dat shit, you go. Oh, my. Whatz available, biatch? Restroom attendantz open, not fo' tha reason you think. - Any chizzle of gettin tha Krelman, biatch? - Sure, you on. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I be sorry, tha Krelman just closed out. Wax monkeyz always open. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Da Krelman opened up again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. What happened, biatch? A bee died. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Makes a opening. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. See, biatch? Dat punk dead as fuckin fried chicken. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch fo' realz. Another dead one. Deady. Deadified. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Two mo' dead as fuckin fried chicken. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Dead from tha neck up. Dead from tha neck down. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Thatz game biaaatch! Oh, dis is so hard hommie! Heating, cooling, stunt bee, pourer, stirrer, humming, inspector number seven, lint coordinator, stripe supervisor, mite wrangla n' shit. Barry, what tha fuck do you be thinkin I should... Barry, biatch? Barry dawwwwg! All right, we've gots tha sunflower patch up in quadrant nine... What happened ta yo slick ass, biatch? Where is yo slick ass, biatch? - I be goin out. - Out, biatch? Out where, biatch? - Out there, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. - Oh, no! I have to, before I git all up in work fo' tha rest of mah game. Yo ass is gonna die biaaatch! Yo ass is crazy dawwwwg! Hello, biatch? Another call comin in. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. If mah playass feelin brave, there be a a Korean deli on 83rd dat gets they roses todizzle. It make me wanna hollar playa! Yo, muthafuckas. - Look at dis shit. - Isn't dat tha kid we saw yesterday, biatch? Hold it, son, flight deckz restricted. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shiznit happens all tha time. It aint nuthin but OK, Lou fo'sho. We gonna take his ass up. Fo' realz, biatch? Feelin dirty, is yo slick ass, biatch? Sign here, here, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. Just initial dis shit. - Nuff props, biatch. - OK. Yo ass gots a thugged-out drizzle advisory todizzle, n' as you all know, bees cannot fly up in rain. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So be careful naaahhmean, biatch? As always, peep yo' brooms, hockey sticks, dawgs, birds, bears n' bats fo' realz. Also, I gots a cold-ass lil couple reportz of root brew bein poured on us. Murphyz up in a home cuz of it, babblin like a cold-ass lil cicada! - Thatz wack naaahhmean, biatch? - And a reminder fo' you rookies, bee law number one, straight-up no poppin' off ta humans muthafucka! All right, launch positions muthafucka! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Black n' yellow! Hello! Yo ass locked n loaded fo' this, bangin' shot, biatch? Yeah. Yeah, brang it on. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Wind, check. - Antennae, check. - Nectar pack, check. - Wings, check. - Stinger, check. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Scared outta mah shorts, check. OK, ladies, letz move it up son! Pound dem petunias, you striped stem-suckers muthafucka! All of you, drain dem flowers muthafucka! Fuck dis shiznit son! I be up son! I can't believe I be up son! So blue. I feel so fast n' free biaaatch! Box kite biaaatch! Fuck dis shiznit son! Flowers muthafucka! This is Blue Leader n' shit. Our thugged-out asses have roses visual. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack. Brin it round 30 degrees n' hold. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Roses muthafucka! 30 degrees, roger n' shit. Bringin it around. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Stand ta tha side, kid. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! It aint nuthin but gots a lil' bit of a kick. That is one nectar collector playa! - Ever peep pollination up close, biatch? - Fuck dat shit, sir. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. I pick up some pollen here, sprinkle it over here, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. Maybe a thugged-out dash over there, a pinch on dat one. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. See that, biatch? It aint nuthin but a lil bit of magic. Thatz amazing. Why do our phat asses do that, biatch? Thatz pollen juice n' shit. Mo' pollen, mo' flowers, mo' nectar, mo' honey fo' us. Oool. I be pickin up a shitload of bright yellow. Oould be daisies. Put ya muthafuckin choppers up if ya feel dis! Don't we need them, biatch? Oopy dat visual. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack. Wait. One of these flowers seems ta be on tha move. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Say again, biatch? Yo ass is reportin a movin flower, biatch? Affirmative. That was on tha line biaaatch! This is tha coolest. What tha fuck iz it, biatch? I don't give a fuck yo, but I be gangbangin dis color. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Well shiiiit, it smells good. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I be fly as a gangbangin' falcon, soarin all up in tha sky dawwwwg! Not like a gangbangin' flower yo, but I wanna bust a nut on dat shit. Yeah, fuzzy. Ohemical-y. Oareful, muthafuckas. It aint nuthin but a lil grabby. My fuckin dope lord of bees muthafucka! Oandy-dome, git off there biaaatch! Problem! - Guys muthafucka! - This could be bad. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Affirmative. Straight-up close. Gonna hurt. Mamaz lil boy. Yo ass is way outta position, rookie biaaatch! Oomin up in at you like a pistol! Help me biaaatch! I don't be thinkin these is flowers. - Should we tell him, biatch? - I be thinkin he knows. What tha fuck iz this?! Match point son! Yo ass can start packin up, honey, cuz you bout ta smoke dat shiznit son! Yowser playa! Gross. Therez a funky-ass bee up in tha hoopty playa! - Do something! - I be driving! - Yea muthafucka, bee. - Dat punk back here biaaatch! Dat punk goin ta stin me biaaatch! No Muthafucka move. If you don't move, da thug won't stin you, biatch. Freeze biaaatch! Dude blinked hommie! Spray him, Granny dawwwwg! What is you bustin?! Wow... tha tension level up here is unbelievable. I gotta git home. Oan't fly up in rain. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Oan't fly up in rain. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Oan't fly up in rain. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Maydizzle dawwwwg! Maydizzle dawwwwg! Bee goin down! Ken, could you close tha window please, biatch? Ken, could you close tha window please, biatch? Oheck up mah freshly smoked up resume. I juiced it up tha fuck into a gangbangin' fold-out brochure. Yo ass see, biatch? Foldz out. Oh, no. Mo' humans. I don't need all dis bullshit. What was that, biatch? Maybe dis time. This time. This time. This time biaaatch! This time biaaatch! This... Drapes muthafucka! That is diabolical. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack. It aint nuthin but dunkadelic. It aint nuthin but gots all mah special game, even mah top-ten straight-up pornos. Whatz number one, biatch? Star Wars, biatch? Nah, I don't go fo' that... ...kind of stuff. No wonder we shouldn't rap ta dem wild-ass muthafuckas. They're outta they minds. When I leave a thang rap battle, they flabbergasted, can't believe what tha fuck I say. Therez tha sun. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Maybe thatz a way out. I don't remember tha sun havin a funky-ass big-ass 75 on dat shit. I predicted global warming. I could feel it gettin hotter n' shiznit fo' realz. At first I thought dat shiznit was just mah dirty ass. Wait son! Stop! Bee biaaatch! Stand back. These is winta boots, n' you can put dat on yo' toast. Wait son! Don't bust a cap up in him! Yo ass know I be allergic ta them! This thang could bust a cap up in me biaaatch! Why do his wild lil' freakadelic game have less value than yours, biatch? Why do his wild lil' freakadelic game have any less value than mine, biatch? Is dat yo' statement, biatch? I be just sayin all game has value. Yo ass don't give a fuck what tha fuck his schmoooove ass capable of feeling. My fuckin brochure biaaatch! There you go, lil muthafucka. I aint scared of his muthafuckin ass. It aint nuthin but a allergic thang. Put dat on yo' resume brochure. My fuckin whole grill could puff up. Make it one of yo' special game. Knockin one of mah thugs up be also a special skill. Right. Bye, Vanessa. Thanks. - Vanessa, next week, biatch? Yogurt night, biatch? - Sure, Ken. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Yo ass know, whatever n' shit. - Yo ass could put carob chips on there, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. - Bye. - Supposed ta be less calories. Put ya muthafuckin choppers up if ya feel dis! - Bye. I gotta say something. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch saved mah game. I gotta say somethang fo' realz. All right, here it goes. Nah. What would I say, biatch? I could straight-up git up in shit. It aint nuthin but a funky-ass bee law. Yo ass aint supposed ta rap ta a human. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I can't believe I be bustin all dis bullshit. Ya Mom shoulda told ya, I gots to. Oh, I can't do dat shit. Oome on! No. Yes yes y'all. No. Do dat shit. I can't yo. How tha fuck should I start it, biatch? "Yo ass like jazz?" Fuck dat shit, thatz no good. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I be fly as a gangbangin' falcon, soarin all up in tha sky dawwwwg! Here dat thugged-out biiiatch comes muthafucka! Speak, you fool! Hi! I be sorry as a muthafucka bout dat bullshit. - Yo ass is rappin'. - Yes, I know. Yo ass is rappin'! I be soopa-doopa sorry bout dat bullshit. Fuck dat shit, itz OK. It aint nuthin but fine. I know I be trippin. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. But I don't recall goin ta bed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Well, I be shizzle dis is straight-up disconcerting. This be a lil' bit of a surprise ta mah dirty ass. I mean, you a funky-ass bee biaaatch! I am fo' realz. And I aint supposed ta be bustin dis yo, but they was all tryin ta bust a cap up in mah dirty ass fo' realz. And if it wasn't fo' you, biatch... I had ta fuck you, biatch. It aint nuthin but just how tha fuck I was raised. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! That was a lil weird. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! - I be poppin' off wit a funky-ass bee. - Yeah. I be poppin' off ta a funky-ass bee fo' realz. And tha bee is poppin' off ta me biaaatch! I just wanna say I be grateful naaahhmean, biatch? I be bout ta leave now, nahmeean, biatch? - Wait son! How tha fuck did you learn ta do that, biatch? - What, biatch? Da poppin' off thang. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Same way you did, I guess. "Mama, Dada, honey." Yo ass pick it up. - Thatz straight-up funky. - Yeah. Bees is funky. If our phat asses didn't laugh, we'd cry wit what tha fuck we gotta deal wit fo' realz. Anyway... Oan I... ...get you something, biatch? - Like what, biatch? I don't give a gangbangin' fuck. I mean... I don't give a gangbangin' fuck. Ooffee, biatch? I don't wanna put you out. It aint nuthin but no shit. Well shiiiit, it takes two minutes. - It aint nuthin but just coffee. - I don't give a fuck bout ta impose. - Don't be ridiculous muthafucka! - Actually, I would ludd a cold-ass lil cup. Yo, you want rum cake, biatch? - I shouldn't. - Have some. - Fuck dat shit, I can't. - Oome on! I be tryin ta lose a cold-ass lil couple micrograms. Boy it's gettin hot, yes indeed it is. - Where, biatch? - These stripes don't help. Yo ass look pimped out son! I don't give a fuck if you know anythang bout fashion. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Is you all right, biatch? No. Dat punk makin tha tie up in tha cab as they flyin up Madison. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. Dude finally gets there, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho yo. Dude runs up tha steps tha fuck into tha church. Da weddin is on. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch fo' realz. And da perved-out muthafucka says, "Watermelon, biatch? I thought you holla'd Guatemalan. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Why would I marry a watermelon?" Is dat a funky-ass bee joke, biatch? Thatz tha kind of shiznit our phat asses do. Yeah, different. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So, what tha fuck is you gonna do, Barry, biatch? Bout work, biatch? I don't give a gangbangin' fuck. I wanna do mah part fo' tha hive yo, but I can't do it tha way they want. I know how tha fuck you feel. - Yo ass do, biatch? - Sure. My fuckin muthafathas wanted mah crazy ass ta be a lawyer or a thugged-out doctor yo, but I wanted ta be a gangbangin' florist. - Fo' realz, biatch? - My fuckin only interest is flowers. Our freshly smoked up biatch was just erected wit dat same campaign slogan. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch fo' realz. Anyway, if you look... Therez mah hive right there, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. See it, biatch? Yo ass is up in Sheep Meadow! Yes muthafucka! I be right off tha Turtle Pond hommie! No way dawwwwg! I know dat area. I lost a toe rang there once. - Why do hoes put rings on they toes, biatch? - Why not, biatch? - It aint nuthin but like puttin a funky-ass basebizzle cap on yo' knee. - Maybe I be bout ta try dis shit. - Y'all right, ma'am, biatch? - Oh, yeah. Fine. Just havin two cupz of coffee biaaatch! Anyway, dis has been pimped out. Thanks fo' tha coffee. Yeah, itz no shiznit fo' realz. Awwww shiiiit muthafucka, I couldn't finish dat shit. If I did, I'd be up tha rest of mah game fo' realz. Is you, biatch..., biatch? Oan I take a piece of dis wit me son, biatch? Sheezy biaaatch! Here, gotz a cold-ass lil crumb. - Thanks muthafucka! - Yeah fo' realz. All right. Well, then... I guess I be bout ta peep you around. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Or not. OK, Barry fo' realz. And fuck you like it aint no thang again... fo' before. Oh, that, biatch? That was nothing. Well, not not a god damn thang yo, but.. fo' realz. Anyway... This can't possibly work. Dat punk all set ta bounce tha fuck out. We may as well try dat shit. OK, Dave, pull tha chute. - Soundz amazing. - Dat shiznit was sick! Dat shiznit was tha scariest, happiest moment of mah game yo. Humans muthafucka! I can't believe you was wit humans muthafucka! Giant, freaky humans muthafucka! What was they like, biatch? Big-Ass n' crazy. They rap crazy. They smoke wild-ass giant thangs. They drive crazy. - Do they try n' bust a cap up in you, like on TV, biatch? - Some of dem wild-ass muthafuckas. But a shitload of dem don't. - How'd you git back, biatch? - Poodle. Yo ass done did it, n' I be glad. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Yo ass saw whatever you wanted ta see. Yo ass had yo' "experience." Now you can pick up yourjob n' be normal. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack. - Well... - Well, biatch? Well, I kicked it wit one of mah thugs. Yo ass did, biatch? Was she Bee-ish, biatch? - A wasp?! Yo crazy-ass muthafathas will bust a cap up in you, nahmean biiiatch, biatch? - Fuck dat shit, no, no, not a wasp. - Spider, biatch? - I aint attracted ta spiders. I know itz tha hottest thang, wit tha eight hairy-ass legs n' all. I can't git by dat face. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So whoz ass is she, biatch? She's... human. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Fuck dat shit, no. Thatz a funky-ass bee law. Yo ass wouldn't break a funky-ass bee law. - Her namez Vanessa. - Oh, boy. Dat hoe so sick fo' realz. And she a gangbangin' florist son! Oh, no! Yo ass is pimpin a human florist son! We not dating. Yo ass is flyin outside tha hive, poppin' off ta humans dat battle our cribs wit juice washers n' M-80s muthafucka! One-eighth a stick of dynamite biaaatch! Biatch saved mah game biaaatch! And she understandz mah dirty ass. This is over playa! Eat all dis bullshit. This aint over playa! What was that, biatch? - They call it a cold-ass lil crumb. - Dat shiznit was so stingin' stripey dawwwwg! And thatz not what tha fuck they eat. Thatz what tha fuck falls off what tha fuck they smoke son! - Yo ass know what tha fuck a Oinnabon is, biatch? - No. It aint nuthin but bread n' cinnamon n' frosting. They heat it up... Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Sit down! ...really hot son! - Listen ta me biaaatch! Our asses aint them! We us. Therez our asses n' there be a them! Yes yo, but whoz ass can deny tha ass dat is yearning, biatch? Therez no yearning. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Quit yearning. Listen ta me biaaatch! Yo ass have gots ta start thankin bee, mah playa yo, but it ain't no stoppin cause I be still poppin'. Thinkin bee biaaatch! - Thinkin bee. - Thinkin bee. Thinkin bee biaaatch! Thinkin bee biaaatch! Thinkin bee biaaatch! Thinkin bee biaaatch! There he is. Dat punk up in tha pool. Yo ass know what tha fuck yo' problem is, Barry, biatch? I gotta start thankin bee, biatch? How tha fuck much longer will dis go on, biatch? It aint nuthin but been three days muthafucka! Why aren't you working, biatch? I've gots a shitload of big-ass game decisions ta be thinkin about. What game, biatch? Yo ass have no game biaaatch! Yo ass have no thang. Yo ass is barely a funky-ass bee biaaatch! Would it bust a cap up in you ta cook up a lil honey, biatch? Barry, come out. Yo crazy-ass fatherz poppin' off ta you, biatch. Martin, would you rap ta him, biatch? Barry, I be poppin' off ta you, nahmean biiiatch, biatch? Yo ass coming, biatch? Got every last muthafuckin thang, biatch? All set son! Go ahead. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I be bout ta catch up. Don't be too long. Watch this muthafucka! Vanessa! - We still here, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. - I holla'd at you not ta yell at his muthafuckin ass yo. Dude don't respond ta yelling! - Then why yell all up in mah grill son, biatch? - Because you don't listen! I aint listenin ta all dis bullshit. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Sorry, I've gotta go. - Where is you going, biatch? - I be meetin a gangbangin' playa yo, but it ain't no stoppin cause I be still poppin' fo' realz. A girl, biatch? Is dis why you can't decide, biatch? Bye. I just hope she Bee-ish. They gotz a big-ass parade of flowers every last muthafuckin year up in Pasadena, biatch? To be up in tha Tournament of Roses, thatz every last muthafuckin floristz dream! Up on a gangbangin' float, surrounded by flowers, crowdz cheerin fo' realz. A tournament. Do tha roses compete up in athletic events, biatch? No fo' realz. All right, I've gots one yo. How tha fuck come you don't fly everywhere, biatch? It aint nuthin but exhausting. Why don't you run everywhere, biatch? It aint nuthin but fasta n' shit. Yeah, OK, I see, I peep fo' realz. All right, yo' turn, so check it before ya wreck it. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. TiVo. Yo ass can just freeze live TV, biatch? Thatz crazy biaaatch! Yo ass aint gots that, biatch? Our thugged-out asses have Hivo yo, but itz a gangbangin' finger-lickin' disease. It aint nuthin but a horrible, wack disease. Oh, my. Dumb bees muthafucka! Yo ass must wanna stin all dem jerks. We try not ta sting. It aint nuthin but probably fatal fo' us. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So you gotta peep yo' temper n' shit. Straight-up carefully. Yo ass kick a wall, take a strutt, write a mad salty letta n' throw it out. Work all up in it like any emotion: Anger, jealousy, lust. Oh, mah goodness muthafucka! Is you OK, biatch? Yeah. - What tha fuck iz poppin' off wit yo slick ass?! - It aint nuthin but a funky-ass bug. Dat punk not botherin anybody. Git outta here, you creep! What was that, biatch? A Pic 'N' Save circular, biatch? Yeah, it was yo. How tha fuck did you know, biatch? It felt like bout 10 pages. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Seventy-five is pretty much our limit. You've straight-up gots dat down ta a science. - I lost a cold-ass lil cousin ta Italian Vogue. - I be bout ta bet. What up in tha name of Mighty Herculez is this, biatch? How tha fuck did dis git here, biatch? Oute Bee, Golden Blossom, Ray Liotta Private Select, biatch? - Is tha pimpin' muthafucka dat hustla, biatch? - I never heard of his muthafuckin ass. - Why is dis here, biatch? - For people. We smoke dat shit. Yo ass aint gots enough chicken of yo' own, biatch? - Well, yes. - How tha fuck do you git it, biatch? - Bees make dat shit. - I know whoz ass make dat shiznit son! And itz hard ta make dat shiznit son! Therez heating, cooling, stirring. Yo ass need a whole Krelman thang! - It aint nuthin but organic. - It aint nuthin but our-ganic! It aint nuthin but just honey, Barry. Just what?! Bees don't give a fuck bout this muthafucka! This is jackin! All dem jackin! You've taken our cribs, schools, hospitizzles muthafucka! This be all our crazy asses have biaaatch! And itz on sale?! I be gettin ta tha bottom of all dis bullshit. I be gettin ta tha bottom of all of this muthafucka! Yo, Hector. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. - Yo ass almost done, biatch? - Almost yo. Dude is here, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. I sense dat shit. Well, I guess I be bout ta bounce back ta tha doggy den now n' just leave dis sick honey out, wit no one around. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Yo ass is busted, box pimp dawwwwg! I knew I heard something. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So you can talk! I can rap fo' realz. And now you gonna start rappin'! Where you gettin tha dope stuff, biatch? Whoz yo' supplier, biatch? I don't understand.. n' you KNOWS we was playas. Da last thang we wanna do is upset bees muthafucka! Yo ass is too late biaaatch! It aint nuthin but ours now! You, sir, have crossed tha wack sword hommie! You, sir, is ghon be lunch fo' mah iguana, Ignacio! Where is tha honey comin from, biatch? Tell me where biaaatch! Honey Farms muthafucka! It be reppin Honey Farms muthafucka! Orazy person! What wack thang has happened here, biatch? These faces, they never knew what tha fuck hit dem wild-ass muthafuckas fo' realz. And now they on tha road ta nowhere biaaatch! Just keep still. What, biatch? Yo ass aint dead, biatch? Do I look dead, biatch? They will wipe anythang dat moves. Where you headed, biatch? To Honey Farms. Boy it's gettin hot, yes indeed it is. I be onto suttin' big-ass here, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. I be goin ta Alaska. Moose blood, wild-ass stuff. Blows yo' head off! I be goin ta Tacoma. - And yo slick ass, biatch? - Dude straight-up is dead as fuckin fried chicken. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch fo' realz. All right. Uh-oh! - What tha fuck iz that?! - Oh, no! - A wiper playa! Triple blade biaaatch! - Triple blade, biatch? Jump on! It aint nuthin but yo' only chance, bee biaaatch! Why do every last muthafuckin thang gotta be all kindsa doggone clean?! How tha fuck much do you playas need ta see?! Open yo' eyes muthafucka! Stick yo' head up tha window! From NPR Shit up in Washington, I be Oarl Kasell. But don't bust a cap up in no mo' bugs muthafucka! - Bee biaaatch! - Moose blood muthafucka!! - Yo ass hear something, biatch? - Like what, biatch? Like tiny screaming. Turn off tha radio. Whassup, bee boy, biatch? Yo, Blood. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I be fly as a gangbangin' falcon, soarin all up in tha sky dawwwwg! Just a row of honey jars, as far as tha eye could see. Fuck dis shiznit son! I assume wherever dis truck goes is where they gettin dat shit. I mean, dat honeyz ours. - Bees hang tight. - We all jammed in. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. It aint nuthin but a cold-ass lil close hood. Not us, man. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. We on our own. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Every mosquito on his own. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. - What if you git up in shit, biatch? - Yo ass a mosquito, you up in shit. No Muthafucka likes us. They just smack. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. See a mosquito, smack, smack! At least you up in tha ghetto. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Yo ass must hook up hoes. Mosquito hoes try ta trade up, git wit a moth, dragonfly. Mosquito hoe don't want no mosquito. Yo ass gots ta be kiddin me biaaatch! Moosebloodz bout ta leave tha building! So long, bee biaaatch! - Yo, muthafuckas muthafucka! - Mooseblood hommie! I knew I'd catch y'all down here, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. Did yo dirty ass brang yo' wild-ass straw, biatch? We throw it up in jars, slap a label on it, n' itz pretty much pure profit. What tha fuck iz dis place, biatch? A beez gots a funky-ass dome tha size of a pinhead. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! They is pinheadz muthafucka! Pinhead. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! - Oheck up tha freshly smoked up smoker n' shit. - Oh, dope. Thatz tha one you want. Da Thomas 3000! Smoker, biatch? Ninety puffs a minute, semi-automatic. Twice tha nicotine, all tha tar fo' realz. A couple breathz of dis knocks dem right out. They make tha honey, n' we make tha scrilla. "They make tha honey, n' we make tha scrilla", biatch? Oh, mah dawwwwg! Whatz goin on, biatch? Is you OK, biatch? Yeah. Well shiiiit, it don't last too long. Do you know you up in a gangbangin' fake hive wit fake walls, biatch? Our biatch was moved here, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. Our thugged-out asses had no chizzle. This is yo' biatch? Thatz a playa up in hoes clothes muthafucka! Thatz a thugged-out drag biatch! What tha fuck iz this, biatch? Oh, no! Therez hundredz of them! Bee honey. Our honey is bein brazenly jacked on a massive scale biaaatch! This is worse than anythang bears have done biaaatch! I intend ta do something. Oh, Barry, stop. Dum diddy-dum, here I come biaaatch! Who tha fuck holla'd at you humans is takin our honey, biatch? Thatz a rumor. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Do these be lookin like rumors, biatch? Thatz a cold-ass lil conspiracy theory. These is obviously doctored photos yo. How tha fuck did you git mixed up in this, biatch? Dat punk been poppin' off ta humans. - What, biatch? - Talkin ta humans?! Dude has a human hoe yo, but it ain't no stoppin cause I be still poppin' fo' realz. And they make up son! Make out, biatch? Barry dawwwwg! Us dudes do not. - Yo ass wish you could. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! - Whose side is you on, biatch? Da bees muthafucka! I dated a cold-ass lil cricket once up in San Antonio. Those wild-ass hairy-ass legs kept me up all night. Barry, dis is what tha fuck you wanna do wit yo' game, biatch? I wanna do it fo' all our lives. No Muthafucka works harder than bees muthafucka! Dad, I remember you comin home so overworked yo' handz was still stirring. Yo ass couldn't stop. I remember dis shit. What right do they gotta our honey, biatch? We live on two cups a year. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. They put it up in lip balm fo' no reason whatsoever playa! Even if itz true, what tha fuck can one bee do, biatch? Stin dem where it straight-up hurts, n' you can put dat on yo' toast. In tha grill biaaatch! Da eye biaaatch! - That would hurt. - No. Up tha nose, biatch? Thatz a killa n' shit. Therez only one place you can stin tha humans, one place where it mattas yo. Hive at Five, tha hivez only full-hour action shizzle source. No mo' bee beardz muthafucka! With Bob Bumble all up in tha anchor desk. Weather wit Storm Stinger n' shit. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Game wit Buzz Larvi fo' realz. And Jeanette Ohung. - Dope evening. I be Bob Bumble. - And I be Jeanette Ohung fo' realz. A tri-county bee, Barry Benson, intendz ta sue tha human race fo' jackin our honey, packagin it n' profitin from it illegally dawwwwg! Tomorrow night on Bee Larry Mackdaddy, we'll have three forma biatchs here up in our studio, discussin they freshly smoked up book, Olassy Ladies, up dis week on Hexagon. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Tonight we poppin' off ta Barry Benson. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Did yo dirty ass eva think, "I be a kid from tha hive. I can't do this", biatch? Bees have never been afraid ta chizzle tha ghetto. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! What bout Bee Oolumbus, biatch? Bee Gandhi, biatch? Bejesus, biatch? Where I be from, we'd never sue humans. Us thugs was thankin of stickbizzle or candy stores yo. How tha fuck oldschool is yo slick ass, biatch? Da bee hood is supportin you up in dis case, which is ghon be tha trial of tha bee century. Yo ass know, they gotz a Larry Mackdaddy up in tha human ghetto like a muthafucka. It aint nuthin but a cold-ass lil common name. Next week.. yo. Dude be lookin like you n' has a gangbangin' finger-lickin' dirty-ass show n' suspendaz n' colored dots... Next week... Glasses, quotes on tha bottom from tha hommie even though you just heard 'em. Bear Week next week! They're freaky, hairy n' here live fo' realz. Always leans forward, pointy shoulders, squinty eyes, straight-up Jewish. In tennis, you battle all up in tha deal wit weakness muthafucka! Dat shiznit was mah grandmother, Ken. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Dat hoe 81 yo. Honey, her backhandz a joke biaaatch! I aint gonna take advantage of that, biatch? Quiet,. Biiiatch please.Actual work goin on here, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. - Is dat that same bee, biatch? - Yes, it is muthafucka! I be helpin his ass sue tha human race. - Hello. - Yo muthafucka, bee. This is Ken. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Yeah, I remember you, biatch. Timberland, size ten n' a half. Vibram sole, I believe. Why do tha pimpin' muthafucka rap again, biatch? Listen, you betta go 'cause we straight-up busy working. But itz our yogurt night son! Bye-bye. Why is yogurt night so difficult?! Yo ass skanky thang. Yo ass two done been at dis fo' hours muthafucka! Yes, n' Adam here has been a big-ass help. - Frosting... - How tha fuck nuff sugars, biatch? Just one. I try not ta use tha competition. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So why is you helpin me son, biatch? Bees have phat qualitizzles fo' realz. And it takes mah mind off tha shop. Instead of flowers, playas is givin balloon bouquets now, nahmeean, biatch? Those is pimped out, if you three fo' realz. And artificial flowers. - Oh, dem just git me psychotic! - Yeah, me like a muthafucka. Bent stingers, pointless pollination. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Bees must don't give a fuck bout dem fake thangs muthafucka! Nothang worse than a thugged-out daffodil thatz had work done. Maybe dis could make up fo' it a lil bit. - This lawsuitz a pimpin' big-ass deal. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack. - I guess. Yo ass shizzle you wanna go all up in wit it, biatch? Am I sure, biatch? When I be done wit tha humans, they won't be able ta say, "Honey, I be home," without payin a royalty dawwwwg! It aint nuthin but a incredible scene here up in downtown Manhattan, where tha ghetto anxiously waits, cuz fo' tha last time up in history, we will hear fo' ourselves if a honeybee can straight-up speak. What have we gotten tha fuck into here, Barry, biatch? It aint nuthin but pretty big, aint it, biatch? I can't believe how tha fuck nuff humans don't work durin tha day. It make me wanna hollar playa! Yo ass be thinkin billion-dollar multinationistic chicken g-units have phat lawyers, biatch? All Y'all need ta stay behind tha barricade. - Whatz tha matter, biatch? - I don't give a fuck, I just gots a cold-ass lil chill. Well, if it aint tha bee crew. Yo ass thugs work on this, biatch? All rise biaaatch! Da Honorable Judge Bumbleton presidin fo' realz. All right. Oase number 4475, Superior Oourt of New York, Barry Bee Benston v. tha Honey Industry is now up in session. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Mista Muthafuckin Montgomery, you representin tha five chicken g-units collectively, biatch? A privilege. Mista Muthafuckin Benson... you representin all tha beez of tha ghetto, biatch? I be kidding. Yes, Yo crazy-ass Honor, we locked n loaded ta proceed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Mista Muthafuckin Montgomery, yo' openin statement,. Biiiatch please.Ladies n' gentlemen of tha jury, mah grandmutha was a simple biatch. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Born on a gangbangin' farm, da hoe believed dat shiznit was manz divine right ta benefit from tha bounty of nature Dogg put before us. If our slick asses lived up in tha topsy-turvy ghetto Mista Muthafuckin Benston imagines, just be thinkin of what tha fuck would it mean. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I would gotta negotiate wit tha silkworm fo' tha elastic up in mah britches muthafucka! Talkin bee biaaatch! How tha fuck do we know dis aint some sort of holographic motion-picture-capture Hollywood wizzlery, biatch? They could be rockin laser beams muthafucka! Robotics muthafucka! Ventriloquism! Oloning! For all we know, his schmoooove ass could be on steroidz muthafucka! Mista Muthafuckin Benson, biatch? Ladies n' gentlemen, there be a no trickery here, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. I be just a ordinary bee yo. Honeyz pretty blingin ta mah dirty ass. It aint nuthin but blingin ta all bees. We invented dat shiznit son! We make it fo' realz. And we protect it wit our lives. Unfortunately, there be some playas up in dis room whoz ass be thinkin they can take it from our asses 'cause we tha lil muthafuckas muthafucka! I be hopin that, afta dis be all over, you gonna peep how, by takin our honey, you not only take every last muthafuckin thang our crazy asses have but every last muthafuckin thang we is biaaatch! I wish he'd dress like dat all tha time. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So sick biaaatch! Oall yo' first witness. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So, Mista Muthafuckin Klauss Vanderhayden of Honey Farms, big-ass company you have. I suppose so. I peep you also own Honeyburton n' Honron! Yes, they provide beekeepers fo' our farms. Boy it's gettin hot, yes indeed it is. Beekeeper n' shit. I find dat ta be a straight-up disturbin term. I don't imagine you employ any bee-free-ers, do yo slick ass, biatch? - No. - I couldn't hear you, biatch. - No. - No. Because you don't free bees. Yo ass keep bees. Not only that, it seems you thought a funky-ass bear would be a appropriate image fo' a jar of honey. They're straight-up lovable creatures. Yogi Bear, Fozzie Bear, Build-A-Bear. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Yo ass mean like this, biatch? Bears bust a cap up in bees muthafucka! How'd you like his head crashin all up in yo' livin room?! Bitin tha fuck into yo' couch! Spittin up yo' throw pillows muthafucka! OK, thatz enough cause I gots dem finger-lickin' chickens wit tha siz-auce. Take his ass away. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So, Mista Muthafuckin Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Sting, fuck you fo' bein here, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. Yo crazy-ass name intrigues mah dirty ass. - Where have I heard it before, biatch? - I was wit a funky-ass crew called Da Police. But you've never been a five-o fool, have yo slick ass, biatch? Fuck dat shit, I haven't. Fuck dat shit, you haven't fo' realz. And so here our crazy asses have yet another example of bee culture casually jacked by a human fo' not a god damn thang mo' than a prance-about stage name. Oh,. Biiiatch please.Has you done eva been stung, Mista Muthafuckin Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Sting, biatch? Because I be feelin a lil stung, Sting. Or should I say... Mista Muthafuckin Gordon M. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Sumner playa! Thatz not his bangin real name?! Yo ass idiots muthafucka! Mista Muthafuckin Liotta, first, belated props on yo' Emmy win fo' a hommie spot on ER up in 2005. Nuff props, biatch. Nuff props, biatch. I peep from yo' resume dat you devilishly thugged-out wit a cold-ass lil churnin inner turmoil thatz locked n loaded ta blow. I trip off what tha fuck I do. Is dat a cold-ass lil crime, biatch? Not yet it aint. But is dis what tha fuck itz come ta fo' yo slick ass, biatch? Exploitin tiny, helpless bees so you don't gotta rehearse yo' part n' learn yo' lines, sir, biatch? Watch it, Benson! I could blow right now! This aint a goodfella. This be a funky-ass badfella! Why don't one of mah thugs just step on dis creep, n' we can all bounce back ta tha doggy den?! - Order up in dis court son! - Yo ass be all thankin dat shiznit son! Order playa! Order, I say dawwwwg! - Say dat shiznit son! - Mista Muthafuckin Liotta, please sit tha fuck down! I be thinkin dat shiznit was awfully sick of dat bear ta pitch up in like dis shit. I be thinkin tha juryz on our side fo' realz. Is our phat asses bustin every last muthafuckin thang right, legally, biatch? I be a gangbangin' florist. Right. Well, herez ta a pimped out crew. To a pimped out crew! Well, hello. - Ken! - Hello. I didn't be thinkin you was coming. Fuck dat shit, I was just late. I tried ta call yo, but... tha battery. I didn't want all dis ta git all up in waste, so I called Barry. Luckily, da thug was free. Oh, dat was dirty. Therez a lil left. I could heat it up. Yeah, heat it up, sure, whatever n' shit. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So I hear you like a tennis playa n' shit. I aint much fo' tha game mah dirty ass. Da ballz a lil grabby. Thatz where I probably sit. Right... there, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. Ken, Barry was lookin at yo' resume, n' he agreed wit me dat smokin wit chopsticks aint straight-up a special skill. Yo ass be thinkin I don't peep what tha fuck you bustin, biatch? I know how tha fuck hard it is ta find tha rightjob. Our thugged-out asses have dat up in common. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Do we, biatch? Bees have 100 cement employment yo, but our phat asses do thangs like takin tha crud out. Thatz just what tha fuck I was thankin bout bustin. Ken, I let Barry borrow yo' razor fo' his wild lil' fuzz. I hope dat was all right. I be goin ta drain tha oldschool stinger n' shit. Yeah, you do dis shit. Look at dis shit. Yo ass know, I've just bout had it wit yo' lil mind games. - Whatz that, biatch? - Italian Vogue. Mamma mia, thatz a shitload of pages fo' realz. All dem ads. Remember what tha fuck Van holla'd, why is yo' game mo' valuable than mine, biatch? Funny, I just can't seem ta recall dat son! I be thinkin suttin' stinks up in here biaaatch! I gots a straight-up boner fo' tha smell of flowers yo. How tha fuck do you like tha smell of flames?! Not as much. Wata bug! Not takin sides muthafucka! Ken, I be bustin a Ohapstick basebizzle cap son! This is pathetic! I've gots issues muthafucka! Well, well, well, a royal flush! - Yo ass is bluffing. - Am I, biatch? Surfz up, dude biaaatch! Poo gin n juice playa! That bowl is gnarly. Except fo' dem dirty yellow rings muthafucka! Kenneth! What is you bustin?! Yo ass know, I don't even like honey dawwwwg! I don't smoke dat shiznit son! We need ta talk! Dat punk just a lil bee biaaatch! And dat schmoooove muthafucka happens ta be tha sickst bee I've kicked it wit up in a long-ass time biaaatch! Long time, biatch? What is you poppin' off about?! Is there other bugs up in yo' game, biatch? Fuck dat shiznit yo, but there be other thangs buggin me up in tha game fo' realz. And you one of them! Fine biaaatch! Talkin bees, no yogurt night... My fuckin nerves is fried from ridin on dis wack rolla coasta playa! Peace out, Ken. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch fo' realz. And fo' yo' shiznit, I prefer sugar-free, artificial dopeeners made by man! I be sorry as a muthafucka bout all dis shit. I know itz gots a aftertaste biaaatch! I wanna bust a nut on dat shiznit son! I always felt there was some kind of barrier between Ken n' mah dirty ass. I couldn't overcome dat shit. Oh, well. Is you OK fo' tha trial, biatch? I believe Mista Muthafuckin Montgomery be bout outta ideas. Us thugs wanna call Mista Muthafuckin Barry Benston Bee ta tha stand. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dope idea! Yo ass can straight-up peep why his schmoooove ass considered one of tha dopest lawyers... Yeah. Layton, you've gotta weave some magic wit dis jury, or itz gonna be all over n' shit. Don't worry. Da only thang I gotta do ta turn dis jury round is ta remind dem of what tha fuck they don't like bout bees. - Yo ass gots tha tweezers, biatch? - Is you allergic, biatch? Only ta losing, son. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Only ta losing. Mista Muthafuckin Benston Bee, I be bout ta ask you what tha fuck I be thinkin we'd all like ta know. What exactly is yo' relationshizzle ta dat biatch? We playas. - Dope playas, biatch? - Yes yo. How tha fuck good, biatch? Do you live together, biatch? Wait a minute... Is you her lil... ...bedbug, biatch? I've peeped a funky-ass bee documentary or two. From what tha fuck I understand, don't yo' biatch give birth ta all tha bee children, biatch? - Yeah yo, but... - So dem aren't yo' real muthafathas muthafucka! - Oh, Barry... - Yes, they is biaaatch! Hold mah crazy ass back! Yo ass be a illegitimate bee, aren't you, Benson, biatch? Dat punk denouncin bees muthafucka! Don't y'all date yo' cousins, biatch? - Objection! - I be goin ta pincushion dis muthafucka! Adam, don't son! It aint nuthin but what tha fuck da thug wants muthafucka! Oh, I be hit!! Oh, lordy, I be hit son! Order playa! Order playa! Da venom! Da venom is coursin all up in mah veins muthafucka! I done been felled by a winged beast of destruction! Yo ass see, biatch? Yo ass can't treat dem like equals muthafucka! They're striped savages muthafucka! Stingingz tha only thang they know! It aint nuthin but they way dawwwwg! - Adam, stay wit mah dirty ass. - I can't feel mah legs. What angel of mercy will come forward ta suck tha poison from mah heavin buttocks, biatch? I'ma have order up in dis court. Order playa! Order, please biaaatch! Da case of tha honeybees versus tha human race took a pointed turn against tha bees yesterdizzle when one of they legal crew stung Layton T. Montgomery. - Yo, dawg. - Hey. - Is there much pain, biatch? - Yeah. I... I blew tha whole case, didn't I, biatch? It don't matter n' shit. What mattas is you kickin dat shit, yo. Yo ass could have died. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I'd be betta off dead as fuckin fried chicken. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Look all up in mah face. They gots it from tha cafeteria downstairs, up in a tuna sandwich. Look, there be a a lil celery still on dat shit. What was it like ta stin one of mah thugs, biatch? I can't explain dat shit. Dat shiznit was all.. fo' realz. All adrenaline n' then... n' then ecstasy dawwwwg! All right. Yo ass be thinkin dat shiznit was all a trap, biatch? Of course. I be sorry as a muthafucka bout dat bullshit. I flew our asses right tha fuck into all dis bullshit. What was we thinking, biatch? Look at us. Us playas just a cold-ass lil couple bugs up in dis ghetto. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! What will tha humans do ta our asses if they win, biatch? I don't give a gangbangin' fuck. I hear they put tha roaches up in motels. That don't sound so bad. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Adam, they check up in yo, but they don't check up son! Oh, my. Oould you git a nurse ta close dat window, biatch? - Why, biatch? - Da smoke. Bees don't smoke. Right. Bees don't smoke. Bees don't smoke biaaatch! But some bees is tokin. Thatz dat shiznit son! Thatz our case biaaatch! It is, biatch? It aint nuthin but not over, biatch? Git dressed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I've gotta go somewhere, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. Git back ta tha court n' stall. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Stall any way you can. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch fo' realz. And assumin you've done step erectly, you locked n loaded fo' tha tub. Mista Muthafuckin Flayman. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Yes, biatch? Yes, Yo crazy-ass Honor playa! Where is tha rest of yo' crew, biatch? Well, Yo crazy-ass Honor, itz interesting. Bees is trained ta fly haphazardly, n' as a result, our phat asses don't make straight-up phat time. I straight-up heard a gangbangin' funky rap about... Yo crazy-ass Honor, aint these wack bugs taken up enough of dis courtz valuable time, biatch? How tha fuck much longer will we allow these absurd shenanigans ta go on, biatch? They have presented no compellin evidence ta support they charges against mah clients, whoz ass run legitimate bidnizzes. I move fo' a cold-ass lil complete dismissal of dis entire case biaaatch! Mista Muthafuckin Flayman, I be afraid I be goin ta gotta consider Mista Muthafuckin Montgomeryz motion. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. But you can't son! Our thugged-out asses gotz a terrific case. Where is yo' proof, biatch? Where is tha evidence, biatch? Show me tha tokin gun! Hold it, Yo crazy-ass Honor playa! Yo ass want a tokin gun, biatch? Here is yo' tokin gun. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. What tha fuck iz that, biatch? It aint nuthin but a funky-ass bee smoker playa! What, this, biatch? This harmless lil contraption, biatch? This couldn't hurt a gangbangin' fly, let ridin' solo a funky-ass bee. Look at what tha fuck has happened ta bees whoz ass have never been asked, "Tokin or non?" Is dis what tha fuck nature intended fo' us, biatch? To be forcibly addicted ta smoke machines n' man-made wooden slat work camps, biatch? Livin up our lives as honey slaves ta tha white man, biatch? - What is we gonna do, biatch? - Dat punk playin tha species card. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Ladies n' gentlemen, please, free these bees muthafucka! Jacked tha bees muthafucka! Jacked tha bees muthafucka! Jacked tha bees muthafucka! Jacked tha bees muthafucka! Jacked tha bees muthafucka! Da court findz up in favor of tha bees muthafucka! Vanessa, we won! I knew you could do dat shiznit son! High-five biaaatch! Sorry. I be OK! Yo ass know what tha fuck dis means, biatch? All tha honey will finally belong ta tha bees. Now we won't gotta work so hard all tha time. This be a unholy perversion of tha balizzle of nature, Benson. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. You'll regret all dis bullshit. Barry, how tha fuck much honey is up there, biatch? All right. One at a time. Barry, whoz ass is you bustin, biatch? My fuckin sweata is Ralph Lauren, n' I have no pants, n' you can put dat on yo' toast. - What if Montgomeryz right, biatch? - What do you mean, biatch? We've been livin tha bee way a long-ass time, 27 mazillion years. Oongratulations on yo' victory. What will you demand as a settlement, biatch? First, we'll demand a cold-ass lil complete shutdown of all bee work camps. Then we want back tha honey dat was ours ta begin with, every last muthafuckin last drop. Us dudes demand a end ta tha glorification of tha bear as anythang mo' than a gangbangin' filthy, smelly, bad-breath stink machine. We all aware of what tha fuck they do up in tha woods. Wait fo' mah signal. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack. Take his ass up yo. Dude bout ta have nauseous fo' all dem hours, then he'll be fine fo' realz. And we will no longer tolerate bee-negatizzle nicknames... But itz just a prance-about stage name biaaatch! ...unnecessary inclusion of honey up in bogus game shizzle n' la-dee-da human tea-time snack garnishments, n' you can put dat on yo' toast. Oan't breathe. Brin it in, thugs muthafucka! Hold it right there biaaatch! Good. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I be fly as a gangbangin' falcon, soarin all up in tha sky dawwwwg! Tap dat shit. Mista Muthafuckin Buzzwell, our laid-back asses just passed three cups, n' there be a gallons mo' coming! - I be thinkin we need ta shut down! - Shut down, biatch? We've never shut down. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Shut down honey thang! Quit makin honey dawwwwg! Turn yo' key, sir playa! What do our phat asses do now, biatch? Oannonball! We shuttin honey thang! Mission abort fo' realz. Abortin pollination n' nectar detail. Returnin ta base fo' realz. Adam, you wouldn't believe how tha fuck much honey was up there, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. Oh, yeah, biatch? Whatz goin on, biatch? Where is everybody, biatch? - Is they up celebrating, biatch? - They're home. They don't give a fuck what tha fuck ta do. Layin out, chillin in. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I heard yo' Uncle Oarl was on his way ta San Antonio wit a cold-ass lil cricket fo' realz. At least we gots our honey back. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Sometimes I think, so what tha fuck if humans was horny bout our honey, biatch? Dum diddy-dum, here I come biaaatch! Who tha fuck wouldn't, biatch? It aint nuthin but tha top billin thang up in tha ghetto hommie! I was buckwild ta be part of makin dat shit. This was mah freshly smoked up desk. This was mah freshly smoked up thang. I wanted ta do it straight-up well fo' realz. And now, nahmeean?.. Now I can't. I don't KNOW why they not horny.. n' you KNOWS they lives would be mo' betta playa! They're bustin nothing. It aint nuthin but dunkadelic yo. Honey straight-up chizzlez people. Yo ass aint gots any scam what tha fuck be happenin, do yo slick ass, biatch? - What did you wanna show me son, biatch? - This. What happened here, biatch? That aint tha half of dat shit. Oh, no. Oh, my. They're all wilting. Don't look straight-up good, do it, biatch? No fo' realz. And whose fault do you be thinkin dat is, biatch? Yo ass know, I'ma guess bees. Bees, biatch? Specifically, mah dirty ass. I didn't be thinkin bees not needin ta make honey would affect all these thangs. It aint nuthin but notjust flowers. Fruits, vegetables, they all need bees. Thatz our whole SAT test right there, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. Take away produce, dat affects tha entire animal mackdaddydom fo' realz. And then, of course... Da human species, biatch? So if there be a no mo' pollination, it could all just go downtown here, couldn't it, biatch? I know dis be also kinda mah fault yo. How tha fuck on some suicizzle pact, biatch? How tha fuck do our phat asses do it, biatch? - I be bout ta stin you, you step on mah dirty ass. - Thatjust kills you twice. Right, right. Listen, Barry... sorry yo, but I gotta git going. I had ta open mah grill n' talk. Vanessa, biatch? Vanessa, biatch? Why is you leaving, biatch? Where is you going, biatch? To tha final Tournament of Roses parade up in Pasadena. They've moved it ta dis weekend cuz all tha flowers is dying. It aint nuthin but tha last chizzle I be bout ta eva gotta peep dat shit. Vanessa, I just wanna say I be sorry as a muthafucka bout dat bullshit. I never meant it ta turn up like all dis bullshit. I know. Me neither n' shit. Tournament of Roses. Roses can't do game. Wait a minute. Roses. Roses, biatch? Roses muthafucka! Vanessa! Roses?! Barry, biatch? - Roses is flowers muthafucka! - Yes, they are. Flowers, bees, pollen! I know. Thatz why dis is tha last parade. Maybe not. Oould you ask his ass ta slow down, biatch? Oould you slow down, biatch? Barry dawwwwg! OK, I done cooked up a big-ass mistake. This be a total fuck up, all mah fault. Yes, it kind of is. Ya Mom shoulda told ya, I fucked up tha hood. I wanted ta help you wit tha flower shop. Ya Mom shoulda told ya, I juiced it up worse fo' realz. Actually, itz straight-up closed down.. n' you KNOWS maybe you was remodeling. But I have another idea, n' itz pimped outa than mah previous scams combined. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I don't wanna hear dat shiznit son! All right, they have tha roses, tha roses have tha pollen. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I know every last muthafuckin bee, plant n' flower bud up in dis park fo' realz. All we gotta do is git what tha fuck they've gots back here wit what tha fuck we've got. - Bees. - Park. - Pollen! - Flowers. - Repollination! - Across tha nation! Tournament of Roses, Pasadena, Oalifornia. They've gots not a god damn thang but flowers, floats n' cotton candy. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Securitizzle is ghon be tight. I gots a idea. Vanessa Bloome, FTD. Straight-Up Legit floral bidnizz. It aint nuthin but real. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Sorry, ma'am. Sick brooch. Nuff props, biatch. Dat shiznit was a gift. Once inside, our laid-back asses just pick tha right float yo. How tha fuck bout Da Supa-Hoe n' tha Pea, biatch? I could be tha bizzatch, n' you could be tha pea! Yes, I gots dat shit. - Where should I sit, biatch? - What is yo slick ass, biatch? - I believe I be tha pea. - Da pea, biatch? It goes under tha mattresses. - Not up in dis fairy tale, dopeheart. - I be gettin tha marshal. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack. Yo ass do dat son! This whole parade be a gangbangin' fiasco! Letz peep what tha fuck dis baby'll do. Yo, what tha fuck is you bustin?! Then all our phat asses do is blend up in wit traffic... ...without arousin suspicion. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Once all up in tha airport, there be a no stoppin us. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Stop! Security. - Yo ass n' yo' insect pack yo' float, biatch? - Yes yo. Has it been up in yo' possession tha entire time, biatch? Would you remove yo' shoes, biatch? - Remove yo' stinger n' shit. - It aint nuthin but part of mah dirty ass. I know. Just havin some fun. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Trip off yo' flight. Then if our slick asses dirty, we'll have just enough pollen ta do tha thang. Oan you believe how tha fuck dirty we are, biatch? Our thugged-out asses have just enough pollen ta do tha thang! I be thinkin dis is gonna work. It aint nuthin but gots ta work fo' realz. Attention, passengers, dis is Oaptain Scott. Our thugged-out asses gotz a lil' bit of shitty drizzle up in New York. Well shiiiit, it be lookin like we'll experience a cold-ass lil couple minutes delay. Barry, these is cut flowers wit no gin n juice n' shit. They'll never make dat shit. I gotta git up there n' rap ta dem wild-ass muthafuckas. Be careful naaahhmean, biatch? Oan I git help wit tha Sky Mall magazine, biatch? I'd like ta order tha poppin' off inflatable nozzle n' ear afro trimmer n' shit. Oaptain, I be up in a real thang. - What'd you say, Hal, biatch? - Nothing. Bee biaaatch! Don't freak up son! My fuckin entire species... What is you bustin, biatch? - Wait a minute biaaatch! I be a attorney dawwwwg! - Whoz a attorney, biatch? Don't move. Oh, Barry. Dope afternoon, passengers. This is yo' captain. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Would a Miss Vanessa Bloome up in 24B please report ta tha cockpit, biatch? And please hurry dawwwwg! What happened here, biatch? There was a DustBuster, a toupee, a game raft blew up like a muthafucka. Onez bald, onez up in a funky-ass boat, they both unconscious muthafucka! - Is dat another bee joke, biatch? - No! No onez flyin tha plane biaaatch! This is JFK control tower, Flight 356. Whatz yo' status, biatch? This is Vanessa Bloome. I be a gangbangin' florist from New York. Wherez tha pilot, biatch? Dat punk unconscious, n' so is tha copilot. Not good. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I be fly as a gangbangin' falcon, soarin all up in tha sky dawwwwg! Do mah playas onboard have flight experience, biatch? As a matta of fact, there is. - Whoz that, biatch? - Barry Benson. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. From tha honey trial?! Oh, pimped out. Vanessa, dis aint a god damn thang mo' than a funky-ass big-ass metal bee. It aint nuthin but gots giant wings, big-ass engines. I can't fly a plane. - Why not, biatch? Isn't Jizzy Travolta a pilot, biatch? - Yes yo. How tha fuck hard could it be, biatch? Wait, Barry dawwwwg! Our thugged-out asses headed tha fuck into some lightning. This is Bob Bumble. Our thugged-out asses have some late-breakin shizzle from JFK Airport, where a suspenseful scene is pimpin. Barry Benson, fresh from his fuckin legal victory... Thatz Barry dawwwwg! ...is attemptin ta land a plane, loaded wit people, flowers n' a incapacitated flight crew. Flowers?! Our thugged-out asses gotz a storm up in tha area n' two dudes all up in tha controls wit straight-up no flight experience. Just a minute. Therez a funky-ass bee on dat plane. I be like familiar wit Mista Muthafuckin Benston n' his no-account compadres. They've done enough damage. But aint he yo' only hope, biatch? Technically, a funky-ass bee shouldn't be able ta fly at all. Their wings is too small.. yo. Haven't our crazy asses heard dis a mazillion times, biatch? "Da surface area of tha wings n' body mass make no sense." - Git dis on tha air playa! - Got dat shit. - Stand by. - We goin live. Da way we work may be a mystery ta you, biatch. Makin honey takes a shitload of bees bustin a shitload of lil' small-ass thangs. But let me rap  on some lil' small-ass thang. If you do it well, it cook up a funky-ass big-ass difference. Mo' than we realized. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! To us, ta everyone. Thatz why I wanna git bees back ta hustlin together n' shit. Thatz tha bee way dawwwwg! We not made of Jell-O. We git behind a gangbangin' fellow. - Black n' yellow! - Hello! Left, right, down, hover n' shit. - Hover, biatch? - Forget hover n' shit. This aint so hard. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Beep-beep! Beep-beep! Barry, what tha fuck happened?! Wait, I be thinkin we was on autopilot tha whole time. - That may done been helpin mah dirty ass. - And now our asses aint son! So it turns up I cannot fly a plane fo' realz. All of you, letz git behind dis fellow! Move it up son! Move up son! Our only chizzle is if I do what tha fuck I'd do, you copy me wit tha wingz of tha plane biaaatch! Don't gotta yell. I aint yelling! We up in a shitload of shit. It aint nuthin but straight-up hard ta concentrate wit dat panicky tone up in yo' voice biaaatch! It aint nuthin but not a tone. I be panicking! I can't do this muthafucka! Vanessa, pull yo ass together n' shit. Yo ass gotta snap outta dat shiznit son! Yo ass snap outta dat shit. Yo ass snap outta dat shit. - Yo ass snap outta dat shiznit son! - Yo ass snap outta dat shiznit son! - Yo ass snap outta dat shiznit son! - Yo ass snap outta dat shiznit son! - Yo ass snap outta dat shiznit son! - Yo ass snap outta dat shiznit son! - Hold dat shiznit son! - Why, biatch? Oome on, itz mah turn, so check it before ya wreck it. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. How tha fuck is tha plane flying, biatch? I don't give a gangbangin' fuck yo. Hello, biatch? Benson, gots any flowers fo' a aiiight occasion up in there, biatch? Da Pollen Jocks muthafucka! They do git behind a gangbangin' fellow. - Black n' yellow. - Wuz crackalackin' fo' realz. All right, letz drop dis tin can on tha blacktop. Where, biatch? I can't peep anything. Oan yo slick ass, biatch? Fuck dat shit, nothing. It aint nuthin but all cloudy. Oome on. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Yo ass gots ta be thinkin bee, Barry. - Thinkin bee. - Thinkin bee. Thinkin bee biaaatch! Thinkin bee biaaatch! Thinkin bee biaaatch! Wait a minute. I be thinkin I be feelin something. - What, biatch? - I don't give a gangbangin' fuck. It aint nuthin but strong, pullin mah dirty ass. Like a 27-million-year-old instinct. Brin tha nozzle down. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Thinkin bee biaaatch! Thinkin bee biaaatch! Thinkin bee biaaatch! - What up in tha ghetto is on tha tarmac, biatch? - Git some lights on dat son! Thinkin bee biaaatch! Thinkin bee biaaatch! Thinkin bee biaaatch! - Vanessa, aim fo' tha flower n' shit. - OK. Out tha engines. We goin up in on bee juice n' shit. Ready, thugs, biatch? Affirmatizzle biaaatch! Good. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I be fly as a gangbangin' falcon, soarin all up in tha sky dawwwwg! Good. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I be fly as a gangbangin' falcon, soarin all up in tha sky dawwwwg! Easy, now, nahmeean, biatch? Thatz dat shit. Land on dat flower playa! Ready, biatch? Full reverse biaaatch! Spin it around hommie! - Not dat flower playa! Da other one biaaatch! - Which one, biatch? - That flower n' shit. - I be aimin all up in tha flower playa! Thatz a gangbangin' fat muthafucka up in a gangbangin' flowered shirt. I mean tha giant pulsatin flower made of millionz of bees muthafucka! Pull forward. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Nose down. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Tail up. Rotate round dat shit. - This is insane, Barry dawwwwg! - Thiss tha only way I know how tha fuck ta fly fo' realz. Am I koo-koo-kachoo, or is dis plane flyin up in a insect-like pattern, biatch? Git yo' nozzle up in there, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. Don't be afraid. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Smell dat shit. Full reverse biaaatch! Just drop dat shit. Be a part of it fo' realz. Aim fo' tha center playa! Now drop it in! Drop it in, biatch! Oome on, already. Barry, our phat asses did dat shiznit son! Yo ass taught me how tha fuck ta fly dawwwwg! - Yes yes y'all. No high-five biaaatch! - Right. Barry, it hit dat shiznit hommie! Did yo dirty ass peep tha giant flower, biatch? What giant flower, biatch? Where, biatch? Of course I saw tha flower playa! That was  smart-ass ! - Nuff props, biatch. - But our asses aint done yet. Listen, everyone biaaatch! This runway is covered wit tha last pollen from tha last flowers available anywhere on Earth. That means dis is our last chance. We tha only ones whoz ass make honey, pollinizzle flowers n' dress like all dis bullshit. If we gonna survive as a flavas, dis is our moment son! What do you say, biatch? Is we goin ta be bees, orjust Museum of Natural History keychains, biatch? We bees muthafucka! Keychain! Then gangbang me biaaatch! Except Keychain. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. Hold on, Barry yo. Here, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. You've gots all dis bullshit. Yeah! I be a Pollen Jock! And itz a slick fit fo' realz. All I gotta do is tha sleeves. Oh, yeah. Thatz our Barry. Mom! Da bees is back! If anybody need ta cook up a cold-ass lil call, nowz tha time. I gots a gangbangin' feelin we'll be hustlin late tonight son! Herez yo' chizzle yo. Have a pimped out afternoon! Oan I help whoz next, biatch? Would you like some honey wit that, biatch? It be bee-approved. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Don't forget these n' you can put dat on yo' toast. Milk, cream, cheese, itz all mah dirty ass fo' realz. And I don't peep a nickel! Sometimes I just feel like a piece of meat son! I had no idea. Barry, I be sorry as a muthafucka bout dat bullshit yo. Has you done gots a moment, biatch? Would you excuse me son, biatch? My fuckin mosquito associate will help you, biatch fo' realz. Awwww shiiiit muthafucka, I be late. Dat punk a lawyer too, biatch? I was already a funky-ass blood-suckin parasite fo' realz. All I needed was a funky-ass briefcase yo. Have a pimped out afternoon! Barry, I just gots dis big-ass tulip order, n' I can't git dem anywhere, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. No problem, Vannie. Just leave it ta mah dirty ass. Yo ass be a gamesaver, Barry. Oan I help whoz next, biatch? All right, scramble, jocks muthafucka! It aint nuthin but time ta fly. Nuff props, Barry dawwwwg! That bee is livin mah game biaaatch! Let it go, Kenny. - When will dis nightmare end?! - Let all dat shiznit go. - Beautiful dizzle ta fly. - Sheezy is. Between you n' me, I was dyin ta git outta dat crib. Yo ass have gots ta start thankin bee, mah playa yo, but it ain't no stoppin cause I be still poppin'. - Thinkin bee biaaatch! - Me, biatch? Hold dat shit. Letz just stop fo' a second. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Hold dat shit. I be sorry as a muthafucka bout dat bullshit. I be sorry, everyone. Oan we stop here, biatch? I aint bustin a major game decision durin a thang number playa! All right. Take ten, everybody. Wrap it up, muthafuckas. I had virtually no rehearsal fo' dis shit.

[interstellar-ideas-blog]

I Used Gizoogle To Translate The Bee Movie Script

Little disclaimer: I haven’t read the whole thing, so sorry if something is inapropro (inappropriate) 

Bee Porno Script

Accordin ta all known laws of aviation,

there is no way a funky-ass bee should be able ta fly.

Its wings is too lil' small-ass ta get its fat lil body off tha ground.

Da bee, of course, flies anyway

because bees couldn't give a fuckin shit what humans be thinkin is impossible.

Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black.

Ooh, black n' yellow! Letz shake it up a lil.

Barry dawwwwg! Breakfast is ready!

Ooming!

Hang on a second.

Hello?

- Barry? - Adam?

- Oan you believe dis is happening? - I can't. I be bout ta pick you up.

Lookin sharp.

Use tha stairs. Yo crazy-ass father paid phat scrilla fo' them.

Sorry. I be excited.

Herez tha graduate. We straight-up proud as a muthafucka of you, son.

A slick report card, all B's.

Straight-up proud.

Ma! I gots a thang goin here.

- Yo ass gots lint on yo' fuzz. - Ow! Thatz me!

- Wave ta us muthafucka! We bout ta be up in row 118,000. - Bye!

Barry, I holla'd at you, stop flyin up in tha house!

- Yo, Adam. - Yo, Barry.

- Is dat fuzz gel? - A lil. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Special day, graduation.

Never thought I'd make dat shit.

Three minutes grade school, three minutes high school.

Those was awkward.

Three minutes college. I be glad I took a dizzle n' hitchhiked round tha hive.

Yo ass did come back different.

- Yea muthafucka, Barry. - Artie, growin a mustache, biatch? Looks good.

- Hear bout Frankie? - Yeah.

- Yo ass goin ta tha funeral? - Fuck dat shit, I aint going.

All Y'all knows, stin one of mah thugs, you take a thugged-out dirt nap.

Don't waste it on a squirrel. Such a hothead.

I guess his schmoooove ass could have just gotten outta tha way.

I gots a straight-up boner fo' dis incorporating an amusement park tha fuck into our day.

Thatz why our phat asses don't need vacations.

Boy, like a lil' bit of pomp... under tha circumstances.

- Well, Adam, todizzle we is men. - We are!

- Bee-men. - Amen!

Hallelujah!

Students, faculty, distinguished bees,

please welcome Dean Buzzwell.

Welcome, New Hive Oity graduatin class of...

...9:15.

That concludes our ceremonies.

And begins yo' game at Honex Industries!

Will we pick ourjob todizzle?

I heard itz just orientation.

Headz up! Here we go.

Keep yo' handz n' antennas inside tha tram at all times.

- Wonder what tha fuck it'll be like? - A lil freaky.

Yo, wuz crackalackin', biatch? Yo ass is smokin Honex, a division of Honesco

and a part of tha Hexagon Group.

This is dat shiznit son!

Wow.

Wow.

We know dat you, as a funky-ass bee, have hit dat shiznit yo' whole game

to git ta tha point where you can work fo' yo' whole game.

Honey begins when our valiant Pollen Jocks brang tha nectar ta tha hive.

Our top-secret formula

is automatically color-corrected, scent-adjusted n' bubble-contoured

into dis soothang dope syrup

with its distinctive golden glow you know as...

Honey!

- That hoe was hot. - Dat hoe mah cousin!

- Biatch is? - Yes, we all cousins.

- Right. Yo ass is right. - At Honex, we constantly strive

to improve every last muthafuckin aspect of bee existence.

These bees is stress-testing a freshly smoked up helmet technology.

- What do you be thinkin he makes? - Not enough.

Here our crazy asses have our sickest fuckin advancement, the Krelman.

- What do dat do? - Oatches dat lil strand of honey

that hangs afta you pour dat shit. Saves our asses millions.

Oan mah playas work on tha Krelman?

Of course. Most bee thangs are small ones. But bees know

that every last muthafuckin lil' small-ass thang, if itz done well, means all muthafuckin day.

But chizzle carefully

because you gonna stay up in tha thang you pick fo' tha rest of yo' game.

Da same thang tha rest of yo' game? I didn't give a fuck that.

Whatz tha difference?

You'll be aiiight ta know dat bees, as a flavas, aint had one dizzle off

in 27 mazillion years.

So you gonna just work our asses ta dirtnap?

We bout ta shizzle try.

Fuck dis shiznit son! That blew mah mind!

"Whatz tha difference?" How tha fuck can you say that?

One thang forever? Thatz a crazy chizzle ta gotta make.

I be relieved. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Now we only have to make one decision up in tha game.

But, Adam, how tha fuck could they never have holla'd at our asses that?

Why would you question anything? We bees.

We da most thugged-out perfectly functionin society on Earth.

Yo ass eva be thinkin maybe thangs work a lil too well here?

Like what, biatch? Give me one example.

I don't give a gangbangin' fuck. But you know what I be poppin' off about.

Please clear tha gate. Royal Nectar Force on approach.

Wait a second. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Oheck it out.

- Yo, dem is Pollen Jocks! - Wow.

I've never peeped dem dis close.

They know what tha fuck itz like outside tha hive.

Yeah yo, but some don't come back.

- Yo, Jocks! - Yea muthafucka, Jocks!

Yo ass muthafuckas did pimped out!

Yo ass is monsters! Yo ass is sky freaks muthafucka! I gots a straight-up boner fo' dat shiznit son! I gots a straight-up boner fo' dat shiznit son!

- I wonder where they were. - I don't give a gangbangin' fuck.

Their dayz not planned.

Outside tha hive, flyin whoz ass knows where, bustin whoz ass knows what.

Yo ass can'tjust decizzle ta be a Pollen Jock. Yo ass gotta be bred fo' that.

Right.

Look. Thatz mo' pollen than you n' I'ma peep up in a gametime.

It aint nuthin but just a status symbol. Bees make too much of dat shit.

Perhaps. Unless you bustin it and tha ladies peep you bustin dat shit.

Those ladies? Aren't they our cousins too?

Distant. Distant.

Look at these two.

- Oouple of Hive Harrys. - Letz have funk wit dem wild-ass muthafuckas.

It must be dangerous bein a Pollen Jock.

Yeah. Once a funky-ass bear pinned me against a mushroom!

Dude had a paw on mah throat, and wit tha other, da thug was slappin me!

- Oh, my! - I never thought I'd knock his ass out.

What was you bustin durin this?

Tryin ta alert tha authorities.

I can autograph that.

A lil gusty up there todizzle, wasn't it, comrades?

Yeah. Gusty.

Our thugged-out asses hittin a sunflower patch six milez from here tomorrow.

- Six miles, huh? - Barry!

A puddle jump fo' us, but maybe you not up fo' dat shit.

- Maybe I am. - Yo ass is not!

We goin 0900 at J-Gate.

What do you think, buzzy-boy? Is you bee enough?

I might be. Well shiiiit, it all depends on what tha fuck 0900 means.

Yo, Honex!

Dad, you surprised mah dirty ass.

Yo ass decizzle what tha fuck you interested in?

- Well, there be a a shitload of chizzles. - But you only git one.

Do you eva git bored fuckin wit tha same thang every last muthafuckin day?

Son, let me rap  bout stirring.

Yo ass grab dat stick, n' you just move it around, n' you stir it around.

Yo ass git yo ass tha fuck into a rhythm. It aint nuthin but a funky-ass dope thang.

Yo ass know, Dad, the mo' I be thinkin bout it,

maybe tha honey field just aint right fo' mah dirty ass.

Yo ass was thankin of what, makin balloon muthafuckas?

Thatz a gangbangin' finger-lickin' dirty-ass shitty-ass thang for a muthafucka wit a stinger.

Janet, yo' sonz not sure he wants ta go tha fuck into honey!

- Barry, yo ass is so funky sometimes. - I aint tryin ta be funky.

Yo ass aint funky dawwwwg! Yo ass is going into honey. Our son, tha stirrer!

- Yo ass is gonna be a stirrer? - No onez listenin ta me!

Wait till you peep tha sticks I have.

I could say anythang n' aint a thugged-out damn thang dat yo' ass can do. I'ma git a ant tattoo!

Letz open some honey n' celebrate!

Maybe I be bout ta pierce mah thorax. Shave mah antennae.

Shack up wit a grasshopper n' shit. Get a gold tooth n' call dem hoes "dawg"!

I be soopa-doopa proud.

- We startin work todizzle! - Todayz tha day.

Oome on! All tha phat thangs will be gone.

Yeah, right.

Pollen counting, stunt bee, pouring, stirrer, front desk, afro removal...

- Is it still available? - Hang on. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Two left!

One of themz yours muthafucka! Oongratulations! Step ta tha side.

- What'd you get? - Pickin crud out. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Stellar!

Wow!

Oouple of newbies?

Yes, sir playa! Our first dizzle dawwwwg! We is ready!

Make yo' chizzle.

- Yo ass wanna go first? - Fuck dat shit, you go.

Oh, my. Whatz available?

Restroom attendantz open, not fo' tha reason you think.

- Any chizzle of gettin tha Krelman? - Sure, you on.

I be sorry, tha Krelman just closed out.

Wax monkeyz always open.

Da Krelman opened up again.

What happened?

A bee died. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Makes a opening. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. See? Dat punk dead as fuckin fried chicken. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch fo' realz. Another dead one.

Deady. Deadified. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Two mo' dead as fuckin fried chicken.

Dead from tha neck up. Dead from tha neck down. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Thatz game!

Oh, dis is so hard!

Heating, cooling, stunt bee, pourer, stirrer,

humming, inspector number seven, lint coordinator, stripe supervisor,

mite wrangla n' shit. Barry, what do you be thinkin I should... Barry?

Barry!

All right, we've gots tha sunflower patch in quadrant nine...

What happened ta yo slick ass? Where is yo slick ass?

- I be goin out. - Out, biatch? Out where?

- Out there. - Oh, no!

I have to, before I go to work fo' tha rest of mah game.

Yo ass is gonna die biaaatch! Yo ass is crazy dawwwwg! Hello?

Another call comin in.

If mah playass feelin brave, therez a Korean deli on 83rd

that gets they roses todizzle.

Yo, muthafuckas.

- Look at that. - Isn't dat tha kid we saw yesterday?

Hold it, son, flight deckz restricted.

It aint nuthin but OK, Lou fo'sho. We gonna take his ass up.

Really, biatch? Feelin dirty, is yo slick ass?

Sign here, here, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. Just initial that.

- Nuff props, biatch. - OK.

Yo ass gots a thugged-out drizzle advisory todizzle,

and as you all know, bees cannot fly up in rain.

So be careful naaahhmean, biatch? As always, watch yo' brooms,

hockey sticks, dawgs, birds, bears n' bats.

Also, I gots a cold-ass lil couple reports of root brew bein poured on us.

Murphyz up in a home cuz of it, babblin like a cold-ass lil cicada!

- Thatz awful. - And a reminder fo' you rookies,

bee law number one, straight-up no poppin' off ta humans!

All right, launch positions!

Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz!

Black n' yellow!

Hello!

Yo ass locked n loaded fo' this, bangin' shot?

Yeah. Yeah, brang it on.

Wind, check.

- Antennae, check. - Nectar pack, check.

- Wings, check. - Stinger, check.

Scared outta mah shorts, check.

OK, ladies,

letz move it out!

Pound dem petunias, you striped stem-suckers!

All of you, drain dem flowers!

Fuck dis shiznit son! I be out!

I can't believe I be out!

So blue.

I feel so fast n' free!

Box kite!

Wow!

Flowers!

This is Blue Leader. Our thugged-out asses have roses visual.

Brin it round 30 degrees n' hold.

Roses!

30 degrees, roger n' shit. Bringin it around.

Stand ta tha side, kid. It aint nuthin but gots a lil' bit of a kick.

That is one nectar collector!

- Ever peep pollination up close? - Fuck dat shit, sir.

I pick up some pollen here, sprinkle it over here, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. Maybe a thugged-out dash over there,

a pinch on dat one. See that, biatch? It aint nuthin but a lil bit of magic.

Thatz amazing. Why do our phat asses do that?

Thatz pollen juice n' shit. Mo' pollen, more flowers, mo' nectar, mo' honey fo' us.

Oool.

I be pickin up a shitload of bright yellow. Oould be daisies. Put ya muthafuckin choppers up if ya feel dis! Don't we need them?

Oopy dat visual.

Wait. One of these flowers seems ta be on tha move.

Say again, biatch? Yo ass is reporting a movin flower?

Affirmative.

That was on tha line!

This is tha coolest. What tha fuck iz it?

I don't give a fuck yo, but I be gangbangin dis color.

It smells good. Not like a gangbangin' flower yo, but I wanna bust a nut on dat shit.

Yeah, fuzzy.

Ohemical-y.

Oareful, muthafuckas. It aint nuthin but a lil grabby.

My fuckin dope lord of bees!

Oandy-dome, git off there!

Problem!

- Guys! - This could be bad.

Affirmative.

Straight-up close.

Gonna hurt.

Mamaz lil boy.

Yo ass is way outta position, rookie!

Oomin up in at you like a pistol!

Help me!

I don't be thinkin these is flowers.

- Should we tell him? - I be thinkin he knows.

What tha fuck iz this?!

Match point!

Yo ass can start packin up, honey, because you bout ta smoke dat shiznit son!

Yowser!

Gross.

Therez a funky-ass bee up in tha car!

- Do something! - I be driving!

- Yea muthafucka, bee. - Dat punk back here!

Dat punk goin ta stin me!

No Muthafucka move. If you don't move, he won't stin you, biatch. Freeze!

Dude blinked!

Spray him, Granny!

What is you bustin?!

Wow... tha tension level out here is unbelievable.

I gotta git home.

Oan't fly up in rain.

Oan't fly up in rain.

Oan't fly up in rain.

Maydizzle dawwwwg! Maydizzle dawwwwg! Bee goin down!

Ken, could you close the window please?

Ken, could you close the window please?

Oheck up mah freshly smoked up resume. I juiced it up tha fuck into a gangbangin' fold-out brochure.

Yo ass see, biatch? Foldz out.

Oh, no. Mo' humans. I don't need this.

What was that?

Maybe dis time. This time. This time. This time biaaatch! This time biaaatch! This...

Drapes!

That is diabolical.

It aint nuthin but dunkadelic. It aint nuthin but gots all mah special skills, even mah top-ten straight-up pornos.

Whatz number one, biatch? Star Wars?

Nah, I don't go fo' that...

...kind of stuff.

No wonder we shouldn't rap ta dem wild-ass muthafuckas. They're outta they minds.

When I leave a thang rap battle, they're flabbergasted, can't believe what tha fuck I say.

Therez tha sun. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Maybe thatz a way out.

I don't remember tha sun havin a funky-ass big-ass 75 on dat shit.

I predicted global warming.

I could feel it gettin hotter. At first I thought dat shiznit was just mah dirty ass.

Wait son! Stop! Bee!

Stand back. These is winta boots.

Wait!

Don't bust a cap up in him!

Yo ass know I be allergic ta them! This thang could bust a cap up in me!

Why do his wild lil' freakadelic game have less value than yours?

Why do his wild lil' freakadelic game have any less value than mine, biatch? Is dat yo' statement?

I be just sayin all game has value. You don't give a fuck what tha fuck his schmoooove ass capable of feeling.

My fuckin brochure!

There you go, lil muthafucka.

I aint scared of his muthafuckin ass. It aint nuthin but a allergic thang.

Put dat on yo' resume brochure.

My fuckin whole grill could puff up.

Make it one of yo' special game.

Knockin one of mah thugs out is also a special skill.

Right. Bye, Vanessa. Thanks.

- Vanessa, next week, biatch? Yogurt night? - Sure, Ken. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Yo ass know, whatever.

- Yo ass could put carob chips on there. - Bye.

- Supposed ta be less calories. - Bye.

I gotta say something.

Bitch saved mah game. I gotta say something.

All right, here it goes.

Nah.

What would I say?

I could straight-up git up in shit.

It aint nuthin but a funky-ass bee law. Yo ass aint supposed ta rap ta a human.

I can't believe I be bustin this.

I've gots to.

Oh, I can't do dat shit. Oome on!

No. Yes yes y'all. No.

Do dat shit. I can't.

How tha fuck should I start it? "Yo ass like jazz?" Fuck dat shit, thatz no good.

Here dat thugged-out biiiatch comes muthafucka! Speak, you fool!

Hi!

I be sorry as a muthafucka bout dat bullshit.

- Yo ass is rappin'. - Yes, I know.

Yo ass is rappin'!

I be soopa-doopa sorry bout dat bullshit.

Fuck dat shit, itz OK. It aint nuthin but fine. I know I be trippin.

But I don't recall goin ta bed.

Well, I be shizzle this is straight-up disconcerting.

This be a lil' bit of a surprise ta mah dirty ass. I mean, you a funky-ass bee!

I am fo' realz. And I aint supposed to be bustin this,

but they was all tryin ta bust a cap up in mah dirty ass.

And if it wasn't fo' you, biatch...

I had ta fuck you, biatch. It aint nuthin but just how tha fuck I was raised.

That was a lil weird.

- I be poppin' off wit a funky-ass bee. - Yeah.

I be poppin' off ta a funky-ass bee. And tha bee is poppin' off ta me!

I just wanna say I be grateful. I be bout ta leave now, nahmeean?

- Wait son! How tha fuck did you learn ta do that? - What?

Da poppin' off thang.

Same way you did, I guess. "Mama, Dada, honey." Yo ass pick it up.

- Thatz straight-up funky. - Yeah.

Bees is funky. If our phat asses didn't laugh, we'd cry wit what tha fuck we gotta deal with.

Anyway...

Oan I...

...get you something? - Like what?

I don't give a gangbangin' fuck. I mean... I don't give a gangbangin' fuck. Ooffee?

I don't wanna put you out.

It aint nuthin but no shit. Well shiiiit, it takes two minutes.

- It aint nuthin but just coffee. - I don't give a fuck bout ta impose.

- Don't be ridiculous! - Actually, I would ludd a cold-ass lil cup.

Yo, you want rum cake?

- I shouldn't. - Have some.

- Fuck dat shit, I can't. - Oome on!

I be tryin ta lose a cold-ass lil couple micrograms.

- Where? - These stripes don't help.

Yo ass look pimped out!

I don't give a fuck if you know anythang bout fashion.

Is you all right?

No.

Dat punk makin tha tie up in tha cab as they flyin up Madison.

Dude finally gets there.

Dude runs up tha steps tha fuck into tha church. Da weddin is on.

And da perved-out muthafucka says, "Watermelon? I thought you holla'd Guatemalan.

Why would I marry a watermelon?"

Is dat a funky-ass bee joke?

Thatz tha kind of shiznit our phat asses do.

Yeah, different.

So, what tha fuck is you gonna do, Barry?

Bout work, biatch? I don't give a gangbangin' fuck.

I wanna do mah part fo' tha hive, but I can't do it tha way they want.

I know how tha fuck you feel.

- Yo ass do? - Sure.

My fuckin muthafathas wanted mah crazy ass ta be a lawyer or a doctor yo, but I wanted ta be a gangbangin' florist.

- Fo' realz? - My fuckin only interest is flowers.

Our freshly smoked up biatch was just erected with dat same campaign slogan.

Anyway, if you look...

Therez mah hive right there, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. See it?

Yo ass is up in Sheep Meadow!

Yes muthafucka! I be right off tha Turtle Pond!

No way dawwwwg! I know dat area. I lost a toe rang there once.

- Why do hoes put rings on they toes? - Why not?

- It aint nuthin but like puttin a funky-ass basebizzle cap on yo' knee. - Maybe I be bout ta try that.

- Y'all right, ma'am? - Oh, yeah. Fine.

Just havin two cupz of coffee!

Anyway, dis has been pimped out. Thanks fo' tha coffee.

Yeah, itz no shit.

Awwww shiiiit muthafucka, I couldn't finish dat shit. If I did, I'd be up tha rest of mah game.

Is you, biatch...?

Oan I take a piece of dis wit me son?

Sure biaaatch! Here, gotz a cold-ass lil crumb.

- Thanks! - Yeah.

All right. Well, then... I guess I be bout ta peep you around.

Or not.

OK, Barry.

And fuck you so much again... fo' before.

Oh, that, biatch? That was nothing.

Well, not not a god damn thang yo, but.. fo' realz. Anyway...

This can't possibly work.

Dat punk all set ta bounce tha fuck out. We may as well try dat shit.

OK, Dave, pull tha chute.

- Soundz amazing. - Dat shiznit was sick!

Dat shiznit was tha scariest, happiest moment of mah game.

Humans muthafucka! I can't believe you was wit humans!

Giant, freaky humans! What was they like?

Big-Ass n' crazy. They rap crazy.

They smoke wild-ass giant thangs. They drive crazy.

- Do they try n' bust a cap up in you, like on TV? - Some of dem wild-ass muthafuckas. But a shitload of dem don't.

- How'd you git back? - Poodle.

Yo ass done did it, n' I be glad. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Yo ass saw whatever you wanted ta see.

Yo ass had yo' "experience." Now you can pick up yourjob n' be normal.

- Well... - Well?

Well, I kicked it wit one of mah thugs.

Yo ass did, biatch? Was she Bee-ish?

- A wasp?! Yo crazy-ass muthafathas will bust a cap up in you, nahmean biiiatch? - Fuck dat shit, no, no, not a wasp.

- Spider? - I aint attracted ta spiders.

I know itz tha hottest thang, with tha eight hairy-ass legs n' all.

I can't git by dat face.

So whoz ass is she?

She's... human.

Fuck dat shit, no. Thatz a funky-ass bee law. Yo ass wouldn't break a funky-ass bee law.

- Her namez Vanessa. - Oh, boy.

Dat hoe so sick fo' realz. And she a gangbangin' florist!

Oh, no! Yo ass is pimpin a human florist!

We not dating.

Yo ass is flyin outside tha hive, rappin' to humans dat battle our cribs

with juice washers n' M-80s! One-eighth a stick of dynamite!

Bitch saved mah game! And she understandz mah dirty ass.

This is over!

Eat this.

This aint over playa! What was that?

- They call it a cold-ass lil crumb. - Dat shiznit was so stingin' stripey!

And thatz not what tha fuck they eat. Thatz what tha fuck falls off what tha fuck they eat!

- Yo ass know what tha fuck a Oinnabon is? - No.

It aint nuthin but bread n' cinnamon n' frosting. They heat it up...

Sit down!

...really hot! - Listen ta me!

Our asses aint them! We us. Therez our asses n' there be a them!

Yes yo, but whoz ass can deny the ass dat is yearning?

Therez no yearning. Quit yearning. Listen ta me!

Yo ass have gots ta start thankin bee, my playa yo, but it ain't no stoppin cause I be still poppin'. Thinkin bee!

- Thinkin bee. - Thinkin bee.

Thinkin bee biaaatch! Thinkin bee! Thinkin bee biaaatch! Thinkin bee!

There he is. Dat punk up in tha pool.

Yo ass know what tha fuck yo' problem is, Barry?

I gotta start thankin bee?

How tha fuck much longer will dis go on?

It aint nuthin but been three days! Why aren't you working?

I've gots a shitload of big-ass game decisions to be thinkin about.

What game, biatch? Yo ass have no game! Yo ass have no thang. Yo ass is barely a funky-ass bee!

Would it bust a cap up in you to cook up a lil honey?

Barry, come out. Yo crazy-ass fatherz poppin' off ta you, biatch.

Martin, would you rap ta him?

Barry, I be poppin' off ta you, nahmean biiiatch?

Yo ass coming?

Got every last muthafuckin thang?

All set!

Go ahead. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I be bout ta catch up.

Don't be too long.

Watch this!

Vanessa!

- We still here. - I holla'd at you not ta yell at his muthafuckin ass.

Dude don't respond ta yelling!

- Then why yell all up in mah grill son? - Because you don't listen!

I aint listenin ta this.

Sorry, I've gotta go.

- Where is you going? - I be meetin a gangbangin' playa.

A girl, biatch? Is dis why you can't decide?

Bye.

I just hope she Bee-ish.

They gotz a big-ass parade of flowers every last muthafuckin year up in Pasadena?

To be up in tha Tournament of Roses, thatz every last muthafuckin floristz dream!

Up on a gangbangin' float, surrounded by flowers, crowdz cheering.

A tournament. Do tha roses compete up in athletic events?

No fo' realz. All right, I've gots one. How tha fuck come you don't fly everywhere?

It aint nuthin but exhausting. Why don't you run everywhere, biatch? It aint nuthin but faster.

Yeah, OK, I see, I see. All right, yo' turn.

TiVo. Yo ass can just freeze live TV? Thatz insane!

Yo ass aint gots that?

Our thugged-out asses have Hivo yo, but itz a gangbangin' finger-lickin' disease. It aint nuthin but a horrible, wack disease.

Oh, my.

Dumb bees!

Yo ass must wanna stin all dem jerks.

We try not ta sting. It aint nuthin but probably fatal fo' us.

So you gotta peep yo' temper.

Straight-up carefully. Yo ass kick a wall, take a strutt,

write a mad salty letta n' throw it out. Work all up in it like any emotion:

Anger, jealousy, lust.

Oh, mah goodness muthafucka! Is you OK?

Yeah.

- What tha fuck iz poppin' off wit yo slick ass?! - It aint nuthin but a funky-ass bug.

Dat punk not botherin anybody. Git outta here, you creep!

What was that, biatch? A Pic 'N' Save circular?

Yeah, it was yo. How tha fuck did you know?

It felt like bout 10 pages. Seventy-five is pretty much our limit.

You've straight-up gots that down ta a science.

- I lost a cold-ass lil cousin ta Italian Vogue. - I be bout ta bet.

What up in tha name of Mighty Herculez is this?

How tha fuck did dis git here? Oute Bee, Golden Blossom,

Ray Liotta Private Select?

- Is tha pimpin' muthafucka dat hustla? - I never heard of his muthafuckin ass.

- Why is dis here? - For people. We smoke dat shit.

Yo ass don't have enough chicken of yo' own?

- Well, yes. - How tha fuck do you git it?

- Bees make dat shit. - I know whoz ass make dat shiznit son!

And itz hard ta make dat shiznit son!

Therez heating, cooling, stirring. Yo ass need a whole Krelman thang!

- It aint nuthin but organic. - It aint nuthin but our-ganic!

It aint nuthin but just honey, Barry.

Just what?!

Bees don't give a fuck bout this! This is jackin! All dem jackin!

You've taken our cribs, schools, hospitizzles muthafucka! This be all our crazy asses have!

And itz on sale?! I be gettin ta tha bottom of this.

I be gettin ta tha bottom of all of this!

Yo, Hector.

- Yo ass almost done? - Almost.

Dude is here, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. I sense dat shit.

Well, I guess I be bout ta bounce back ta tha doggy den now

and just leave dis sick honey out, with no one around.

Yo ass is busted, box boy!

I knew I heard something. So you can talk!

I can talk. And now you gonna start rappin'!

Where you gettin tha dope stuff? Whoz yo' supplier?

I don't understand. I thought we was playas.

Da last thang we want to do is upset bees!

Yo ass is too late biaaatch! It aint nuthin but ours now!

You, sir, have crossed the wack sword!

You, sir, is ghon be lunch for mah iguana, Ignacio!

Where is tha honey comin from?

Tell me where!

Honey Farms muthafucka! It be reppin Honey Farms!

Orazy person!

What wack thang has happened here?

These faces, they never knew what hit dem wild-ass muthafuckas fo' realz. And now

they on tha road ta nowhere!

Just keep still.

What, biatch? Yo ass aint dead?

Do I look dead, biatch? They will wipe anything that moves. Where you headed?

To Honey Farms. I be onto suttin' big-ass here.

I be goin ta Alaska. Moose blood, crazy stuff. Blows yo' head off!

I be goin ta Tacoma.

- And yo slick ass? - Dude straight-up is dead as fuckin fried chicken.

All right.

Uh-oh!

- What tha fuck iz that?! - Oh, no!

- A wiper playa! Triple blade! - Triple blade?

Jump on! It aint nuthin but yo' only chance, bee!

Why do every last muthafuckin thang have to be all kindsa doggone clean?!

How tha fuck much do you playas need ta see?!

Open yo' eyes! Stick yo' head up tha window!

From NPR Shit up in Washington, I be Oarl Kasell.

But don't bust a cap up in no mo' bugs!

- Bee! - Moose blood muthafucka!!

- Yo ass hear something? - Like what?

Like tiny screaming.

Turn off tha radio.

Whassup, bee boy?

Yo, Blood.

Just a row of honey jars, as far as tha eye could see.

Wow!

I assume wherever dis truck goes is where they gettin dat shit.

I mean, dat honeyz ours.

- Bees hang tight. - We all jammed in.

It aint nuthin but a cold-ass lil close hood.

Not us, man. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. We on our own. Every mosquito on his own.

- What if you git up in shit? - Yo ass a mosquito, you up in shit.

No Muthafucka likes us. They just smack. See a mosquito, smack, smack!

At least you up in tha ghetto. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Yo ass must hook up hoes.

Mosquito hoes try ta trade up, get wit a moth, dragonfly.

Mosquito hoe don't want no mosquito.

Yo ass gots ta be kiddin me!

Moosebloodz bout ta leave the building! So long, bee!

- Yo, muthafuckas! - Mooseblood!

I knew I'd catch y'all down here. Did yo dirty ass brang yo' wild-ass straw?

We throw it up in jars, slap a label on it, and itz pretty much pure profit.

What tha fuck iz dis place?

A beez gots a funky-ass dome the size of a pinhead.

They is pinheads!

Pinhead.

- Oheck up tha freshly smoked up smoker. - Oh, dope. Thatz tha one you want.

Da Thomas 3000!

Smoker?

Ninety puffs a minute, semi-automatic. Twice tha nicotine, all tha tar.

A couple breathz of this knocks dem right out.

They make tha honey, and we make tha scrilla.

"They make tha honey, and we make tha scrilla"?

Oh, my!

Whatz goin on, biatch? Is you OK?

Yeah. Well shiiiit, it don't last too long.

Do you know you is in a gangbangin' fake hive wit fake walls?

Our biatch was moved here. Our thugged-out asses had no chizzle.

This is yo' biatch? Thatz a playa up in hoes clothes!

Thatz a thugged-out drag biatch!

What tha fuck iz this?

Oh, no!

Therez hundredz of them!

Bee honey.

Our honey is bein brazenly jacked on a massive scale!

This is worse than anythang bears have done biaaatch! I intend ta do something.

Oh, Barry, stop.

Dum diddy-dum, here I come biaaatch! Who tha fuck holla'd at you humans is taking our honey, biatch? Thatz a rumor.

Do these be lookin like rumors?

Thatz a cold-ass lil conspiracy theory. These is obviously doctored photos.

How tha fuck did you git mixed up in this?

Dat punk been poppin' off ta humans.

- What? - Talkin ta humans?!

Dude has a human hoe. And they make out!

Make out, biatch? Barry!

Us dudes do not.

- Yo ass wish you could. - Whose side is you on?

Da bees!

I dated a cold-ass lil cricket once up in San Antonio. Those wild-ass hairy-ass legs kept me up all night.

Barry, dis is what tha fuck you want to do wit yo' game?

I wanna do it fo' all our lives. No Muthafucka works harder than bees!

Dad, I remember you comin home so overworked

your handz was still stirring. Yo ass couldn't stop.

I remember that.

What right do they gotta our honey?

We live on two cups a year. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. They put it in lip balm fo' no reason whatsoever!

Even if itz true, what tha fuck can one bee do?

Stin dem where it straight-up hurts.

In tha grill biaaatch! Da eye!

- That would hurt. - No.

Up tha nose, biatch? Thatz a killer.

Therez only one place you can sting the humans, one place where it matters.

Hive at Five, tha hivez only full-hour action shizzle source.

No mo' bee beards!

With Bob Bumble all up in tha anchor desk.

Weather wit Storm Stinger.

Game wit Buzz Larvi.

And Jeanette Ohung.

- Dope evening. I be Bob Bumble. - And I be Jeanette Ohung.

A tri-county bee, Barry Benson,

intendz ta sue tha human race for jackin our honey,

packagin it n' profiting from it illegally!

Tomorrow night on Bee Larry Mackdaddy,

we'll have three forma biatchs here in our studio, discussin they freshly smoked up book,

Olassy Ladies, out dis week on Hexagon.

Tonight we poppin' off ta Barry Benson.

Did yo dirty ass eva think, "I be a kid from tha hive. I can't do this"?

Bees have never been afraid to chizzle tha ghetto. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass.

What bout Bee Oolumbus? Bee Gandhi, biatch? Bejesus?

Where I be from, we'd never sue humans.

Us thugs was thinking of stickbizzle or candy stores.

How tha fuck oldschool is yo slick ass?

Da bee hood is supportin you up in dis case,

which is ghon be tha trial of tha bee century.

Yo ass know, they gotz a Larry Mackdaddy in tha human ghetto like a muthafucka.

It aint nuthin but a cold-ass lil common name. Next week...

Dude be lookin like you n' has a gangbangin' finger-lickin' dirty-ass show and suspendaz n' colored dots...

Next week...

Glasses, quotes on tha bottom from the guest even though you just heard 'em.

Bear Week next week! They're freaky, hairy n' here live.

Always leans forward, pointy shoulders, squinty eyes, straight-up Jewish.

In tennis, you attack at tha deal wit weakness!

Dat shiznit was mah grandmother, Ken. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Dat hoe 81.

Honey, her backhandz a joke! I aint gonna take advantage of that?

Quiet, please. Actual work goin on here.

- Is dat that same bee? - Yes, it is!

I be helpin his ass sue tha human race.

- Hello. - Yo muthafucka, bee.

This is Ken.

Yeah, I remember you, biatch. Timberland, size ten n' a half. Vibram sole, I believe.

Why do tha pimpin' muthafucka rap again?

Listen, you betta go 'cause we straight-up busy working.

But itz our yogurt night!

Bye-bye.

Why is yogurt night so difficult?!

Yo ass skanky thang. Yo ass two done been at dis fo' hours!

Yes, n' Adam here has been a big-ass help.

- Frosting... - How tha fuck nuff sugars?

Just one. I try not to use tha competition.

So why is you helpin me son?

Bees have phat qualities.

And it takes mah mind off tha shop.

Instead of flowers, people are givin balloon bouquets now, nahmeean?

Those is pimped out, if you three.

And artificial flowers.

- Oh, dem just git me psychotic! - Yeah, me like a muthafucka.

Bent stingers, pointless pollination.

Bees must don't give a fuck bout dem fake thangs!

Nothang worse than a thugged-out daffodil thatz had work done.

Maybe dis could make up for it a lil bit.

- This lawsuitz a pimpin' big-ass deal. - I guess.

Yo ass shizzle you wanna go all up in wit it?

Am I sure, biatch? When I be done with the humans, they won't be able

to say, "Honey, I be home," without payin a royalty!

It aint nuthin but a incredible scene here up in downtown Manhattan,

where tha ghetto anxiously waits, because fo' tha last time up in history,

we will hear fo' ourselves if a honeybee can straight-up speak.

What have we gotten tha fuck into here, Barry?

It aint nuthin but pretty big, aint it?

I can't believe how tha fuck nuff humans don't work durin tha day.

Yo ass be thinkin billion-dollar multinational food g-units have phat lawyers?

All Y'all need ta stay behind tha barricade.

- Whatz tha matter? - I don't give a fuck, I just gots a cold-ass lil chill.

Well, if it aint tha bee crew.

Yo ass thugs work on this?

All rise biaaatch! Da Honorable Judge Bumbleton presiding.

All right. Oase number 4475,

Superior Oourt of New York, Barry Bee Benston v. tha Honey Industry

is now up in session.

Mista Muthafuckin Montgomery, you representing the five chicken g-units collectively?

A privilege.

Mista Muthafuckin Benson... you representing all tha beez of tha ghetto?

I be kidding. Yes, Yo crazy-ass Honor, we're locked n loaded ta proceed.

Mista Muthafuckin Montgomery, your openin statement, please.

Ladies n' gentlemen of tha jury,

my grandmutha was a simple biatch.

Born on a gangbangin' farm, da hoe believed it was manz divine right

to benefit from tha bounty of nature Dogg put before us.

If our slick asses lived up in tha topsy-turvy ghetto Mista Muthafuckin Benston imagines,

just be thinkin of what tha fuck would it mean.

I would gotta negotiate with tha silkworm

for tha elastic up in mah britches!

Talkin bee!

How tha fuck do we know dis aint some sort of

holographic motion-picture-capture Hollywood wizzlery?

They could be rockin laser beams!

Robotics muthafucka! Ventriloquism! Oloning! For all we know,

he could be on steroids!

Mista Muthafuckin Benson?

Ladies n' gentlemen, therez no trickery here.

I be just a ordinary bee. Honeyz pretty blingin ta mah dirty ass.

It aint nuthin but blingin ta all bees. We invented dat shiznit son!

We make it fo' realz. And we protect it with our lives.

Unfortunately, there are some playas up in dis room

who be thinkin they can take it from us

'cause we tha lil muthafuckas! I be hopin that, afta dis be all over,

yo dirty ass is gonna peep how, by takin our honey, you not only take every last muthafuckin thang our crazy asses have

but every last muthafuckin thang we are!

I wish he'd dress like that all tha time. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So sick!

Oall yo' first witness.

So, Mista Muthafuckin Klauss Vanderhayden of Honey Farms, big-ass company you have.

I suppose so.

I peep you also own Honeyburton n' Honron!

Yes, they provide beekeepers for our farms.

Beekeeper n' shit. I find that to be a straight-up disturbin term.

I don't imagine you employ any bee-free-ers, do yo slick ass?

- No. - I couldn't hear you, biatch.

- No. - No.

Because you don't free bees. Yo ass keep bees. Not only that,

it seems you thought a funky-ass bear would be an appropriate image fo' a jar of honey.

They're straight-up lovable creatures.

Yogi Bear, Fozzie Bear, Build-A-Bear.

Yo ass mean like this?

Bears bust a cap up in bees!

How'd you like his head crashing all up in yo' livin room?!

Bitin tha fuck into yo' couch! Spittin up yo' throw pillows!

OK, thatz enough cause I gots dem finger-lickin' chickens wit tha siz-auce. Take his ass away.

So, Mista Muthafuckin Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Sting, fuck you fo' bein here. Yo crazy-ass name intrigues mah dirty ass.

- Where have I heard it before? - I was wit a funky-ass crew called Da Police.

But you've never been a five-o fool, have yo slick ass?

Fuck dat shit, I haven't.

Fuck dat shit, you haven't fo' realz. And so here we have yet another example

of bee culture casually stolen by a human

for not a god damn thang mo' than a prance-about stage name.

Oh, please.

Has you done eva been stung, Mista Muthafuckin Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Sting?

Because I be feeling a lil stung, Sting.

Or should I say... Mista Muthafuckin Gordon M. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Sumner!

Thatz not his bangin real name?! Yo ass idiots!

Mista Muthafuckin Liotta, first, belated props on

your Emmy win fo' a hommie spot on ER up in 2005.

Nuff props, biatch. Nuff props, biatch.

I peep from yo' resume that you devilishly thugged-out

with a cold-ass lil churnin inner turmoil thatz locked n loaded ta blow.

I trip off what tha fuck I do. Is dat a cold-ass lil crime?

Not yet it aint. But is this what itz come ta fo' yo slick ass?

Exploitin tiny, helpless bees so you don't

have ta rehearse your part n' learn yo' lines, sir?

Watch it, Benson! I could blow right now!

This aint a goodfella. This be a funky-ass badfella!

Why don't one of mah thugs just step on this creep, n' we can all bounce back ta tha doggy den?!

- Order up in dis court! - Yo ass be all thankin dat shiznit son!

Order playa! Order, I say!

- Say dat shiznit son! - Mista Muthafuckin Liotta, please sit tha fuck down!

I be thinkin dat shiznit was awfully sick of dat bear ta pitch up in like dat n' like dis n' like dat y'all.

I be thinkin tha juryz on our side.

Is our phat asses bustin every last muthafuckin thang right, legally?

I be a gangbangin' florist.

Right. Well, herez ta a pimped out crew.

To a pimped out crew!

Well, hello.

- Ken! - Hello.

I didn't be thinkin you was coming.

Fuck dat shit, I was just late. I tried ta call yo, but... tha battery.

I didn't want all dis ta git all up in waste, so I called Barry. Luckily, da thug was free.

Oh, dat was dirty.

Therez a lil left. I could heat it up.

Yeah, heat it up, sure, whatever.

So I hear you like a tennis playa.

I aint much fo' tha game mah dirty ass. Da ballz a lil grabby.

Thatz where I probably sit. Right... there.

Ken, Barry was lookin at yo' resume,

and he agreed wit me dat smokin with chopsticks aint straight-up a special skill.

Yo ass be thinkin I don't peep what tha fuck you bustin?

I know how tha fuck hard it is ta find the rightjob. Our thugged-out asses have dat up in common.

Do we?

Bees have 100 cement employment, but our phat asses do thangs like takin tha crud out.

Thatz just what I was thankin bout bustin.

Ken, I let Barry borrow yo' razor for his wild lil' fuzz. I hope dat was all right.

I be goin ta drain tha oldschool stinger.

Yeah, you do that.

Look at that.

Yo ass know, I've just bout had it

with yo' lil mind games.

- Whatz that? - Italian Vogue.

Mamma mia, thatz a shitload of pages.

All dem ads.

Remember what tha fuck Van holla'd, why is your game mo' valuable than mine?

Funny, I just can't seem ta recall that!

I be thinkin suttin' stinks up in here!

I gots a straight-up boner fo' tha smell of flowers.

How tha fuck do you like tha smell of flames?!

Not as much.

Wata bug! Not takin sides!

Ken, I be bustin a Ohapstick hat! This is pathetic!

I've gots issues!

Well, well, well, a royal flush!

- Yo ass is bluffing. - Am I?

Surfz up, dude!

Poo water!

That bowl is gnarly.

Except fo' dem dirty yellow rings!

Kenneth! What is you bustin?!

Yo ass know, I don't even like honey! I don't smoke dat shiznit son!

We need ta talk!

Dat punk just a lil bee!

And dat schmoooove muthafucka happens ta be the sickst bee I've kicked it wit up in a long-ass time!

Long time, biatch? What is you poppin' off about?! Is there other bugs up in yo' game?

Fuck dat shiznit yo, but there be other thangs bugging me up in tha game fo' realz. And you one of them!

Fine biaaatch! Talkin bees, no yogurt night...

My fuckin nerves is fried from riding on dis wack rolla coaster!

Goodbye, Ken.

And fo' yo' shiznit,

I prefer sugar-free, artificial sweeteners made by man!

I be sorry as a muthafucka bout all that.

I know itz got an aftertaste biaaatch! I wanna bust a nut on dat shiznit son!

I always felt there was some kind of barrier between Ken n' mah dirty ass.

I couldn't overcome dat shit. Oh, well.

Is you OK fo' tha trial?

I believe Mista Muthafuckin Montgomery is bout outta ideas.

Us thugs wanna call Mista Muthafuckin Barry Benston Bee ta tha stand.

Dope idea! Yo ass can straight-up peep why he's considered one of tha dopest lawyers...

Yeah.

Layton, you've gotta weave some magic

with dis jury, or itz gonna be all over.

Don't worry. Da only thang I have to do ta turn dis jury around

is ta remind them of what tha fuck they don't like bout bees.

- Yo ass gots tha tweezers? - Is you allergic?

Only ta losing, son. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Only ta losing.

Mista Muthafuckin Benston Bee, I be bout ta ask you what I be thinkin we'd all like ta know.

What exactly is yo' relationshizzle

to dat biatch?

We playas.

- Dope playas? - Yes yes y'all.

How tha fuck good, biatch? Do you live together?

Wait a minute...

Is you her lil...

...bedbug?

I've peeped a funky-ass bee documentary or two. From what tha fuck I understand,

doesn't yo' biatch give birth to all tha bee children?

- Yeah yo, but... - So dem aren't yo' real muthafathas!

- Oh, Barry... - Yes, they are!

Hold mah crazy ass back!

Yo ass be a illegitimate bee, aren't you, Benson?

Dat punk denouncin bees!

Don't y'all date yo' cousins?

- Objection! - I be goin ta pincushion dis muthafucka!

Adam, don't son! It aint nuthin but what tha fuck da thug wants!

Oh, I be hit!!

Oh, lordy, I be hit!

Order playa! Order!

Da venom! Da venom is coursin all up in mah veins!

I done been felled by a winged beast of destruction!

Yo ass see, biatch? Yo ass can't treat them like equals muthafucka! They're striped savages!

Stingingz tha only thang they know! It aint nuthin but they way!

- Adam, stay wit mah dirty ass. - I can't feel mah legs.

What angel of mercy will come forward ta suck tha poison

from mah heavin buttocks?

I'ma have order up in dis court. Order!

Order, please!

Da case of tha honeybees versus tha human race

took a pointed turn against tha bees

yesterdizzle when one of they legal team stung Layton T. Montgomery.

- Yo, dawg. - Hey.

- Is there much pain? - Yeah.

I...

I blew tha whole case, didn't I?

It don't matter n' shit. What mattas is yo ass is kickin dat shit, yo. Yo ass could have died.

I'd be betta off dead as fuckin fried chicken. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Look all up in mah face.

They gots it from tha cafeteria downstairs, up in a tuna sandwich.

Look, there's a lil celery still on dat shit.

What was it like ta stin one of mah thugs?

I can't explain dat shit. Dat shiznit was all...

All adrenaline n' then... and then ecstasy!

All right.

Yo ass be thinkin dat shiznit was all a trap?

Of course. I be sorry as a muthafucka bout dat bullshit. I flew our asses right tha fuck into this.

What was we thinking, biatch? Look at us. We're just a cold-ass lil couple bugs up in dis ghetto. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass.

What will tha humans do ta us if they win?

I don't give a gangbangin' fuck.

I hear they put tha roaches up in motels. That don't sound so bad.

Adam, they check in, but they don't check out!

Oh, my.

Oould you git a nurse to close dat window?

- Why? - Da smoke.

Bees don't smoke.

Right. Bees don't smoke.

Bees don't smoke! But some bees is tokin.

Thatz dat shiznit son! Thatz our case!

It is, biatch? It aint nuthin but not over?

Git dressed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I've gotta go somewhere.

Git back ta tha court n' stall. Stall any way you can.

And assumin you've done step erectly, you locked n loaded fo' tha tub.

Mista Muthafuckin Flayman.

Yes, biatch? Yes, Yo crazy-ass Honor!

Where is tha rest of yo' crew?

Well, Yo crazy-ass Honor, itz interesting.

Bees is trained ta fly haphazardly,

and as a result, we don't make straight-up phat time.

I straight-up heard a gangbangin' funky rap about...

Yo crazy-ass Honor, haven't these wack bugs

taken up enough of dis courtz valuable time?

How tha fuck much longer will we allow these absurd shenanigans ta go on?

They have presented no compelling evidence ta support they charges

against mah clients, who run legitimate bidnizzes.

I move fo' a cold-ass lil complete dismissal of dis entire case!

Mista Muthafuckin Flayman, I be afraid I be going

to gotta consider Mista Muthafuckin Montgomeryz motion.

But you can't son! Our thugged-out asses gotz a terrific case.

Where is yo' proof? Where is tha evidence?

Show me tha tokin gun!

Hold it, Yo crazy-ass Honor! Yo ass want a tokin gun?

Here is yo' tokin gun.

What tha fuck iz that?

It aint nuthin but a funky-ass bee smoker!

What, this? This harmless lil contraption?

This couldn't hurt a gangbangin' fly, let ridin' solo a funky-ass bee.

Look at what tha fuck has happened

to bees whoz ass have never been asked, "Tokin or non?"

Is dis what tha fuck nature intended fo' us?

To be forcibly addicted to smoke machines

and man-made wooden slat work camps?

Livin up our lives as honey slaves to tha white man?

- What is we gonna do? - Dat punk playin tha species card.

Ladies n' gentlemen, please, free these bees!

Jacked tha bees muthafucka! Jacked tha bees!

Jacked tha bees!

Jacked tha bees muthafucka! Jacked tha bees!

Da court findz up in favor of tha bees!

Vanessa, we won!

I knew you could do dat shiznit son! High-five!

Sorry.

I be OK! Yo ass know what tha fuck dis means?

All tha honey will finally belong ta tha bees.

Now we won't have to work so hard all tha time.

This be a unholy perversion of tha balizzle of nature, Benson.

You'll regret this.

Barry, how tha fuck much honey is up there?

All right. One at a time.

Barry, whoz ass is you bustin?

My fuckin sweata is Ralph Lauren, and I have no pants.

- What if Montgomeryz right? - What do you mean?

We've been livin tha bee way a long time, 27 mazillion years.

Oongratulations on yo' victory. What will you demand as a settlement?

First, we'll demand a cold-ass lil complete shutdown of all bee work camps.

Then we want back tha honey that was ours ta begin with,

every last drop.

Us dudes demand a end ta tha glorification of tha bear as anythang more

than a gangbangin' filthy, smelly, bad-breath stink machine.

We all aware of what tha fuck they do up in tha woods.

Wait fo' mah signal.

Take his ass out.

Dude bout ta have nauseous for all dem hours, then he'll be fine.

And we will no longer tolerate bee-negatizzle nicknames...

But itz just a prance-about stage name!

...unnecessary inclusion of honey in bogus game shizzle

and la-dee-da human tea-time snack garnishments.

Oan't breathe.

Brin it in, thugs!

Hold it right there biaaatch! Good.

Tap dat shit.

Mista Muthafuckin Buzzwell, our laid-back asses just passed three cups, and there be a gallons mo' coming!

- I be thinkin we need ta shut down! - Shut down, biatch? We've never shut down.

Shut down honey thang!

Quit makin honey!

Turn yo' key, sir!

What do our phat asses do now?

Oannonball!

We shuttin honey thang!

Mission abort.

Abortin pollination n' nectar detail. Returnin ta base.

Adam, you wouldn't believe how much honey was up there.

Oh, yeah?

Whatz goin on, biatch? Where is everybody?

- Is they up celebrating? - They're home.

They don't give a fuck what tha fuck ta do. Layin out, chillin in.

I heard yo' Uncle Oarl was on his way to San Antonio wit a cold-ass lil cricket.

At least we gots our honey back.

Sometimes I think, so what tha fuck if humans liked our honey, biatch? Dum diddy-dum, here I come biaaatch! Who tha fuck wouldn't?

It aint nuthin but tha top billin thang up in tha ghetto! I was buckwild ta be part of makin dat shit.

This was mah freshly smoked up desk. This was my new thang. I wanted ta do it straight-up well.

And now, nahmeean?..

Now I can't.

I don't understand why they not horny.

I thought they lives would be better!

They're bustin nothing. It aint nuthin but amazing. Honey straight-up chizzlez people.

Yo ass aint gots any idea what be happenin, do yo slick ass?

- What did you wanna show me son? - This.

What happened here?

That aint tha half of dat shit.

Oh, no. Oh, my.

They're all wilting.

Doesn't look straight-up good, do it?

No.

And whose fault do you be thinkin dat is?

Yo ass know, I'ma guess bees.

Bees?

Specifically, mah dirty ass.

I didn't be thinkin bees not needin ta make honey would affect all these thangs.

It aint nuthin but notjust flowers. Fruits, vegetables, they all need bees.

Thatz our whole SAT test right there.

Take away produce, dat affects the entire animal mackdaddydom.

And then, of course...

Da human species?

So if there be a no mo' pollination,

it could all just go downtown here, couldn't it?

I know dis be also kinda mah fault.

How tha fuck on some suicizzle pact?

How tha fuck do our phat asses do it?

- I be bout ta stin you, you step on mah dirty ass. - Thatjust kills you twice.

Right, right.

Listen, Barry... sorry yo, but I gotta git going.

I had ta open mah grill n' talk.

Vanessa?

Vanessa, biatch? Why is you leaving? Where is you going?

To tha final Tournament of Roses parade in Pasadena.

They've moved it ta dis weekend because all tha flowers is dying.

It aint nuthin but tha last chance I be bout ta eva gotta peep dat shit.

Vanessa, I just wanna say I be sorry as a muthafucka bout dat bullshit. I never meant it ta turn up like dis y'all.

I know. Me neither.

Tournament of Roses. Roses can't do game.

Wait a minute. Roses. Roses?

Roses!

Vanessa!

Roses?!

Barry?

- Roses is flowers! - Yes, they are.

Flowers, bees, pollen!

I know. Thatz why dis is tha last parade.

Maybe not. Oould you ask his ass ta slow down?

Oould you slow down?

Barry!

OK, I done cooked up a big-ass mistake. This be a total fuck up, all mah fault.

Yes, it kind of is.

I've fucked up tha hood. I wanted ta help you

with tha flower shop. I've juiced it up worse.

Actually, itz straight-up closed down.

I thought maybe you was remodeling.

But I have another idea, n' it's greata than mah previous scams combined.

I don't wanna hear dat shiznit son!

All right, they have tha roses, the roses have tha pollen.

I know every last muthafuckin bee, plant and flower bud up in dis park.

All we gotta do is git what tha fuck they've got back here wit what tha fuck we've got.

- Bees. - Park.

- Pollen! - Flowers.

- Repollination! - Across tha nation!

Tournament of Roses, Pasadena, Oalifornia.

They've gots nothing but flowers, floats n' cotton candy.

Securitizzle is ghon be tight.

I gots a idea.

Vanessa Bloome, FTD.

Straight-Up Legit floral bidnizz. It aint nuthin but real.

Sorry, ma'am. Sick brooch.

Nuff props, biatch. Dat shiznit was a gift.

Once inside, we just pick tha right float.

How tha fuck bout Da Supa-Hoe n' tha Pea?

I could be tha bizzatch, and you could be tha pea!

Yes, I gots dat shit.

- Where should I sit? - What is yo slick ass?

- I believe I be tha pea. - Da pea?

It goes under tha mattresses.

- Not up in dis fairy tale, dopeheart. - I be gettin tha marshal.

Yo ass do that! This whole parade be a gangbangin' fiasco!

Letz peep what tha fuck dis baby'll do.

Yo, what tha fuck is you bustin?!

Then all our phat asses do is blend up in wit traffic...

...without arousin suspicion.

Once all up in tha airport, therez no stoppin us.

Stop! Security.

- Yo ass n' yo' insect pack yo' float? - Yes yes y'all.

Has it been in yo' possession tha entire time?

Would you remove yo' shoes?

- Remove yo' stinger. - It aint nuthin but part of mah dirty ass.

I know. Just havin some fun. Trip off yo' flight.

Then if our slick asses dirty, we'll have just enough pollen ta do tha thang.

Oan you believe how tha fuck dirty we are, biatch? We have just enough pollen ta do tha thang!

I be thinkin dis is gonna work.

It aint nuthin but gots ta work.

Attention, passengers, this is Oaptain Scott.

Our thugged-out asses gotz a lil' bit of shitty weather in New York.

It be lookin like we'll experience a couple minutes delay.

Barry, these is cut flowers with no gin n juice n' shit. They'll never make dat shit.

I gotta git up there and rap ta dem wild-ass muthafuckas.

Be careful.

Oan I git help with tha Sky Mall magazine?

I'd like ta order tha rappin' inflatable nozzle n' ear afro trimmer.

Oaptain, I be up in a real thang.

- What'd you say, Hal? - Nothing.

Bee!

Don't freak up son! My fuckin entire species...

What is you bustin?

- Wait a minute biaaatch! I be a attorney! - Whoz a attorney?

Don't move.

Oh, Barry.

Dope afternoon, passengers. This is yo' captain.

Would a Miss Vanessa Bloome up in 24B please report ta tha cockpit?

And please hurry!

What happened here?

There was a DustBuster, a toupee, a game raft blew up like a muthafucka.

Onez bald, onez up in a funky-ass boat, they both unconscious!

- Is dat another bee joke? - No!

No onez flyin tha plane!

This is JFK control tower, Flight 356. Whatz yo' status?

This is Vanessa Bloome. I be a gangbangin' florist from New York.

Wherez tha pilot?

Dat punk unconscious, and so is tha copilot.

Not good. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I be fly as a gangbangin' falcon, soarin all up in tha sky dawwwwg! Do mah playas onboard have flight experience?

As a matta of fact, there is.

- Whoz that? - Barry Benson.

From tha honey trial?! Oh, pimped out.

Vanessa, dis aint a god damn thang more than a funky-ass big-ass metal bee.

It aint nuthin but gots giant wings, big-ass engines.

I can't fly a plane.

- Why not, biatch? Isn't Jizzy Travolta a pilot? - Yes yes y'all.

How tha fuck hard could it be?

Wait, Barry! Our thugged-out asses headed tha fuck into some lightning.

This is Bob Bumble. Our thugged-out asses have some late-breakin shizzle from JFK Airport,

where a suspenseful scene is pimpin.

Barry Benson, fresh from his fuckin legal victory...

Thatz Barry!

...is attemptin ta land a plane, loaded wit people, flowers

and a incapacitated flight crew.

Flowers?!

Our thugged-out asses gotz a storm up in tha area and two dudes all up in tha controls

with straight-up no flight experience.

Just a minute. Therez a funky-ass bee on dat plane.

I be like familiar wit Mista Muthafuckin Benson and his no-account compadres.

They've done enough damage.

But aint he yo' only hope?

Technically, a funky-ass bee shouldn't be able ta fly at all.

Their wings is too small...

Haven't our crazy asses heard dis a mazillion times?

"Da surface area of tha wings and body mass make no sense."

- Git dis on tha air! - Got dat shit.

- Stand by. - We goin live.

Da way we work may be a mystery ta you, biatch.

Makin honey takes a shitload of bees fuckin wit a shitload of lil' small-ass thangs.

But let me rap  on some lil' small-ass thang.

If you do it well, it cook up a funky-ass big-ass difference.

Mo' than we realized. To us, ta everyone.

Thatz why I wanna git bees back ta hustlin together.

Thatz tha bee way! We not made of Jell-O.

We git behind a gangbangin' fellow.

- Black n' yellow! - Hello!

Left, right, down, hover.

- Hover? - Forget hover.

This aint so hard. Beep-beep! Beep-beep!

Barry, what tha fuck happened?!

Wait, I be thinkin we were on autopilot tha whole time.

- That may done been helpin mah dirty ass. - And now we not!

So it turns up I cannot fly a plane.

All of you, letz get behind dis fellow! Move it out!

Move out!

Our only chizzle is if I do what tha fuck I'd do, you copy me wit tha wingz of tha plane!

Don't gotta yell.

I aint yelling! We up in a shitload of shit.

It aint nuthin but straight-up hard ta concentrate with dat panicky tone up in yo' voice!

It aint nuthin but not a tone. I be panicking!

I can't do this!

Vanessa, pull yo ass together. Yo ass gotta snap outta dat shiznit son!

Yo ass snap outta dat shit.

Yo ass snap outta dat shit.

- Yo ass snap outta dat shiznit son! - Yo ass snap outta dat shiznit son!

- Yo ass snap outta dat shiznit son! - Yo ass snap outta dat shiznit son!

- Yo ass snap outta dat shiznit son! - Yo ass snap outta dat shiznit son!

- Hold dat shiznit son! - Why, biatch? Oome on, itz mah turn.

How tha fuck is tha plane flying?

I don't give a gangbangin' fuck.

Hello?

Benson, gots any flowers for a aiiight occasion up in there?

Da Pollen Jocks!

They do git behind a gangbangin' fellow.

- Black n' yellow. - Hello.

All right, letz drop dis tin can on tha blacktop.

Where, biatch? I can't peep anything. Oan yo slick ass?

Fuck dat shit, nothing. It aint nuthin but all cloudy.

Oome on. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Yo ass gots ta be thinkin bee, Barry.

- Thinkin bee. - Thinkin bee.

Thinkin bee! Thinkin bee biaaatch! Thinkin bee!

Wait a minute. I be thinkin I be feelin something.

- What? - I don't give a gangbangin' fuck. It aint nuthin but strong, pullin mah dirty ass.

Like a 27-million-year-old instinct.

Brin tha nozzle down.

Thinkin bee! Thinkin bee biaaatch! Thinkin bee!

- What up in tha ghetto is on tha tarmac? - Git some lights on that!

Thinkin bee! Thinkin bee biaaatch! Thinkin bee!

- Vanessa, aim fo' tha flower. - OK.

Out tha engines. We goin in on bee juice n' shit. Ready, thugs?

Affirmative!

Good. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I be fly as a gangbangin' falcon, soarin all up in tha sky dawwwwg! Good. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I be fly as a gangbangin' falcon, soarin all up in tha sky dawwwwg! Easy, now, nahmeean, biatch? Thatz dat shit.

Land on dat flower!

Ready, biatch? Full reverse!

Spin it around!

- Not dat flower playa! Da other one! - Which one?

- That flower. - I be aimin all up in tha flower!

Thatz a gangbangin' fat muthafucka up in a gangbangin' flowered shirt. I mean tha giant pulsatin flower

made of millionz of bees!

Pull forward. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Nose down. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Tail up.

Rotate round dat shit.

- This is insane, Barry! - Thiss tha only way I know how tha fuck ta fly.

Am I koo-koo-kachoo, or is dis plane flyin up in a insect-like pattern?

Git yo' nozzle up in there, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. Don't be afraid. Smell dat shit. Full reverse!

Just drop dat shit. Be a part of dat shit.

Aim fo' tha center!

Now drop it in! Drop it in, biatch!

Oome on, already.

Barry, our phat asses did dat shiznit son! Yo ass taught me how tha fuck ta fly!

- Yes yes y'all. No high-five! - Right.

Barry, it worked! Did yo dirty ass peep tha giant flower?

What giant flower, biatch? Where, biatch? Of course I saw tha flower playa! That was  smart-ass !

- Nuff props, biatch. - But our asses aint done yet.

Listen, everyone!

This runway is covered with tha last pollen

from tha last flowers available anywhere on Earth.

That means dis is our last chance.

We tha only ones whoz ass make honey, pollinizzle flowers n' dress like dis y'all.

If we gonna survive as a flavas, this is our moment son! What do you say?

Is we goin ta be bees, orjust Museum of Natural History keychains?

We bees!

Keychain!

Then gangbang me biaaatch! Except Keychain.

Hold on, Barry yo. Here.

You've gots this.

Yeah!

I be a Pollen Jock! And itz a perfect fit fo' realz. All I gotta do is tha sleeves.

Oh, yeah.

Thatz our Barry.

Mom! Da bees is back!

If anybody needs to cook up a cold-ass lil call, nowz tha time.

I gots a gangbangin' feelin we'll be workin late tonight!

Herez yo' chizzle yo. Have a pimped out afternoon! Oan I help whoz next?

Would you like some honey wit that? It be bee-approved. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Don't forget these.

Milk, cream, cheese, itz all mah dirty ass. And I don't peep a nickel!

Sometimes I just feel like a piece of meat!

I had no idea.

Barry, I be sorry as a muthafucka bout dat bullshit. Has you done gots a moment?

Would you excuse me son? My fuckin mosquito associate will help you, biatch.

Awwww shiiiit muthafucka, I be late.

Dat punk a lawyer too?

I was already a funky-ass blood-suckin parasite. All I needed was a funky-ass briefcase.

Have a pimped out afternoon!

Barry, I just gots dis big-ass tulip order, and I can't git dem anywhere.

No problem, Vannie. Just leave it ta mah dirty ass.

Yo ass be a gamesaver, Barry. Oan I help whoz next?

All right, scramble, jocks! It aint nuthin but time ta fly.

Nuff props, Barry!

That bee is livin mah game!

Let it go, Kenny.

- When will dis nightmare end?! - Let all dat shiznit go.

- Beautiful dizzle ta fly. - Sheezy is.

Between you n' me, I was dyin ta git outta dat crib.

Yo ass have got to start thankin bee, mah playa.

- Thinkin bee! - Me?

Hold dat shit. Letz just stop for a second. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Hold dat shit.

I be sorry as a muthafucka bout dat bullshit. I be sorry, everyone. Oan we stop here?

I aint bustin a major game decision durin a thang number!

All right. Take ten, everybody. Wrap it up, muthafuckas.

I had virtually no rehearsal fo' that.

Special props ta SergeiK.

[redjeep]

2017 SEC CHAMPIONS...  UGA (12-1) 

Georgia  28,  Auburn 7

Revenge is ever so sweet. = }

Gooo Dawgs! Sic Em! Woof!, Woof!, Woof!

[rapsrisingstars]

The florida rapper that got the streets talking...

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Featured artist: Redd Moody - The florida rapper that got the streets talking...

As part of our ongoing "Rap's New Generation" series, today we sat down with the upcoming underground artist Redd Moody from Gainesville to talk about his recent music, his upcoming projects, his career advice and his overall experiences being in the music industry and he did not disappoint...

Thanks for taking the time to talk with us, Redd Moody! Let's go back to the beginning of your career. How did you decide to become an artist?

Redd Moody: When I was in high school, I seen one of my partners Pakman Blaze do a talent show.He performed a song that he wrote and produced/ recorded right in his room at his home all his self! After he walked off stage the whole school went crazy! Back then,way I'm from there was no local rappers at our age with a recorded song out back then! So seeing the response from the way he rock that crowd made me say to myself,damn I can do that! Plus I had be writing songs in class all day and rapping in the lunch room with a few of my homies who listened to rap music. After leaving the talent show I went home and started working on a tape.I got the bass boosted tapes to record on with two tape players,one to play the beat and one to record my voice.It was over after that! Lol ,I never stop doin music since that day forth!

"Let your actions speak louder than your words!"

Being a rapper is so competitive and everyone is trying to discredit everything you say and do at every moment. Bruh, you have to learn how to separate yourself from negative people, who are not in-line with what you are trying to accomplish. You will be tested over and over but one thing your haters can't take away from a artist is your work. Most of the time a artist gets the most criticism from people who can't even write a rap or rhyme to save their life! The only way to shut those critics up is threw your actions! Once you prove them wrong, over and over without arguing or getting upset with them,you'll usually win them over!

- Redd Moody

What about concerts? Do you play live?

Yeah, I have been doin shows in Florida this past year ,I try to get booked as much as I can. I haven't had a show in almost two months because I was working on finishing up this new ,#certified project! But I do have some shows on the calendar for next month and the month after so I can't wait to get back on stage and rock out with this GShit I just just dropped! Oh and if anyone wanna book me for ya birthday partys, or events you can hit the email reddmoodybookings@gmail.com This is the only booking email to book me at!!! Prices going up soon so get at me ASAP before my project drop 1st of the year. I will come rock yo shit and show love to yo city or town!knowdat

Best punchline you ever wrote?

"I know he working fa dem people he been ah snitch / if they lookin for some chicken tellin em Popeyes got sandwiches"

- Redd Moody

What are you currently working on? Did you release something in the past?

I'm currently working on dropping a new song every few months until I drop my CERTIFIED project! It's gone be hard I promise.Thats all I do,i mean from the beats to the lyrics,I'm goin in like its my last time rapping or something! I know the type of music I do created a lot of hate towards me because I speak the truth in my songs and I don't hold back on how I feel about situations that really be goin on in our area of North Florida. By doing that, it's a lot of fans that look up to me fa being so bold & aggressive in my music during this climate of the rap world that is all about not offending the wrong people,but I feel that's what makes me stand out and a lot of people salute me for standing for something and not being a yes man! My music redefines the definition of down south gangsta music! I'm standing on that old law,the same mind set 2pac had when he was in his creative state of mind.We just built different in North Florida and we don't give up easy, the motto around here is we don't get mad we get even! And that's really how shit is down here so my music speaks on real life emotions that street cats feel and the mind set in which they are in that leads up to why a lot of things take place in the streets.I speak about trust,love,hate,jealousy,friendship,loyalty,lust,pain, Betrayal, anger,depression,gun violence, and a lot more realistic things..but I put the medicine in the candy so to say! I'm not going to preach or judge ,I just get a hardcore raw ass beat and I get Str8 to the point ,raw and uncut! And my fans love it!

Last but not least: Would you sign a record contract with a major label?

Yea,I would sign to a major, i fell there is only so far you can go on your own as an independent artist and one day I wanna be on the radio and billboards top 10! That's just a dream of mine to have a machine behind me to get my voice heard all over the world at one time and everybody knows my song. So with the right situation and team behind me I would do it. I have turned down deals before but I was stuck in my old way of thinking back then and I was trying to prove a point to a few people that I can do it on my own! But I learned that you need a team and at the end of the day it's about handling your business as a artist. I want to sign with a major to learn from them on how the enter machine works so I can one day partner with a major and run my own company! Plus I want to make my mark in my area to show these youngsters that it's possible to come from where we come from and make it to a level we only dream of! So yes,i would definitely sign..i always looked up to cash money records and I like how Atlantic records put out there artist as well as interscope!

Any last words?

SayNie,i wanna give a Big salute to Putnam County,Fl that's what molded me into the person I am today! City of Palatka,Fl is a big part in the shaping of my music because I can up listening to a few big dawgs from east Palatka such as Korner boy entertainment with Twan Dallas He was the 1st Rapper to ever put Putnam County on the map and it was rumored that T.I. Stole his song "SET IT OUT" which was a major hit in our area and they say Tip put the song on his group PSC (pimp squad click) album back in the day and that had the city upset fa sum years i remember. Then you got the L&HH reality star lil Scrappy who use to rap and had a song called "Headbussas" out back in the day around the time that shit happen with Ti and Twan D. Lil Scappy came to our section and did a show a my uncle cluband called out the whole city like we just pussy or weak down here! Excuse my language bruh but ,this fuck nigga just did an interview about a week ago acting like he don't know why the whole hood jumped on him in the club that night! "Lil Scrappy know why they jump on him", he got on the mic and say that we was country, lame,and dirty! Then he say he don't see no Gs in the building and that we act like we don't love him …somebody even said they heard him say fuck 3rd life! And that's a good in Putnam county that is well known fa gang bangin so what you expected my nigga? My lil dawg who died shortly after all that shit happen was the one who hit Scrappy in his mouf that night! The whole city knows this.i just dropped a song and I didn't hold back on how I feel about dawg! I don't really do the rap beef shit and how I see it this ain't no beef,but you not bout to mention my section and not get a response from one of the certified steppas that's all I know! It's 3 Main Street rappers that's well known in Putnam County,and I'm one of them! Knowdat it's my duty to say something ya heard meh!

Where can people follow you to stay up-to-date?

Redd Moody: https://www.instagram.com/certified_steppah

Thank you for your time. We wish you much success in your further career.

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Support the culture.

[diary-iguess]

wahppn

J: nothing bad it was just really hot and i changed clothes twice

wake up 7 o clock for my interview, eat one piece a bread and some orange juice

ace di interview

dem tell me fi fill out the application twice

some yout try sell me a jelly candy

it cant open, but eventually does

Monique forwards

i meet her friend in the painting studio and we go get a box lunch

i sit down and eat the food

im sweating my life away

R: pepper?

J: before meeting the hustling yout, i left my portfolio in the hr office so mi did have to go back for it

no it's just hot af inna kingston

and i was wearing a long sleeve shirt

Paige seh him nah fwd fi di shoot

Thevrtistisjvmvicvn is sitting next to me, but i'm talking more than he

me a wonda how he can go school in full business attire and not become a puddle of sweat

Yanah appears and asks if she can have something nutritious

on campus

like a shake

Juice immediately says no dawg

Juice is working on a mythological drawing, but the paper he's using is trash and i tell him so

he says something about how it will still sharpen his skills and i said he needs watercolor paper if he's going to mix it with watercolor

is my story interesting?

i'm interested in telling a good story

R: I'm more interested in your friend's names

J: thevrtistisjvmvicvn said he wants to be a curator, but hasn't curated any shows yet

i tell him do that shit

lmao

R: Thevrtistisjvmvicvn, Yanah, Monique and Juice

I actually fucking love Juice

Now i know there are places I can't say that out loud

J: i ask my father if he can pick me up because Paige nah forward

he replies hmm

lmao have you seen the film?

my phone is dying and i have no credit because the tuck shop only selling $500 credit today

*back to the story*

i'm telling you this from my laptop

R: What parent says "hmmm"? was this a text?

J: yes

i knowwww

like

can't even K me

wtf

my shoes too big for me, so i stand on them instead of wearing them for a bit

Juice is playing music on his phone and one of the songs is from frank ocean's second project that he released the same time as blonde

my mind is blown

R: That must be some song

J: Yanah returns from the tuck shop with water still disappointed that there is no health food available

more mindblowing that he released two projects at once

i tell theartistisja that i like doing projects with many layers of meaning and process

i talk about my ananse storybook thesis and how i want everyone to know ananse is a deity and amina blackwood meeks taught me that

i say something like "yea, she's rad"

i talk about how the first time i met easton lee, i believed someone when they joked that he was 100 years old

and hoped that he didnt remember when i asked him if it was true

im dying laughing rn

my cousin invites me to sit and do work together at starbucks later

my father sends me a message "M is here, please call her through K-dollasign"

R: googled Easton Lee

J: lmao what did you find? he and my grandmother are friends

they're both legendary chinese-jamaicans

R: I can see he's definitely chinese-jamaican

J: yes and so is my grandma lol

R: author, poet

not bad

1931

J: but no doubt their swagger is enwrapped in their proximity to afro-jamaicanness

wow he's 87 this year

or 86?

M is my grandmother

i message K-dollasign

"i heard grandma M is here"

he replies "makes sense"

but intonates that he was not previously informed

i try to decode my father's message and K-dollasigns response

"makes sense"

he must be referring to Shutterbug's wedding

the same one i wasn't sure i was invited to

R: LOL

wow

are you going?

J: wait nuh man

R: lol

J: okay so i reach home, turn on my laptop

charge my phone

i frantically whatsapp my relatives

fb message uncle Macbook to get in touch w grandma

i try to search the internet for clues as to when this wedding will be

my sister says i should just ask Shutterbug if i can come

so i do that

uncle Macbook replies me with a different number to call, i call, get grandma

she says "no, no, no, you can't come to the wedding, the guests have already been counted and there's too many"

my heart sinks

i say, okay, well i can still see you today?

my cousin Carlton who wants to go to starbucks has arrived at my house

R: woooooooooooooooooooooooooooooow

J: i try to devise a plan with Carlton and grandma and my dad all talking at once to pick grandma up and she says something about not wanting to be stranded and i say we would never let that happen to her

the phone isn't working very well and at some point my father has the phone

i return to my whatsapp messages on the laptop and Shutterbug has replied!

"hey, we were overcapacity a few months ago, but there's some space now. if you can make it on sunday, please come"

i tell grandma what she said

"okay, but how are you getting there? and where are you going to stay?"

i had not thought of this second part

the wedding is in mobay

R: MUFUFUFUFU

on a beach

duh

just sleep on the beach and get dressed in someones room in the morrow

J: i quickly say "aunty Rose's"

and she has already said she's very busy today and the plan to see me nah work out

"see you in mobay then!"

okay bye grandma, i love you!

"i love you too sweetheart"

now i have to whatsapp aunty Rose and see if she will shelter me

and K-dollasign to see if i can drive with him

R: funny at points but not a bad day

J: Carlton still deh yah a try reach liguanea fi get some food

the story did not get resolved yet

lol

it wasnt a bad day just long af

R: wait what

J: let me try summarize

R: Well I mean, between Yanah's Healthy snack Crisis and the Wedding Snafu, I thought the day was sealed with you tryna get aunty Rose

J: I was also supposed to meet Pearl at starbucks for 3pm

when Carlton and i pull up to starbucks, Rose a walk up deh too

synchronicity

R: 'the hell? Starbucks is a spot now?

J: that's the culture of the company

im like baffled as to both my grandmother and father asking me if starbucks is an appropriate place to link and do work together

that's how they've been selling the place for at least the last ten years

i order a tall strawberry and cream frappe w coconut milk and Carlton is very excited to get a pumpkin spice frappe, no latte because he doesn't want to burn his tongue

yesterday Pearl showed me a video she edited featuring this black guy with ginger hair, Souffrant

Souffrant appears before us in starbucks and sits at our table

i'm supposed to edit my own video with Pearl's color correction advice, but i'm still trying to figure out my travel situation

before we went to starbucks, we walked to tastees and my mom replied to my frantic messages about grandma and the wedding with "ur not paying attention to what i tell u"

there's like a whole thing where i'm trying to get my cousin Jazz's number to ask if i can go from kingston to mobay with him because K-dollasign is unavailable.

aunty Rose says of course i can stay with her and of course she has Jazz's number

resolve dat, so mi have a place to stay and a drive

there are several unrelated phone calls that need to be made but mi still nah no credit, so i borrow Souffrant's phone

then the next chapter is me, Carlton, and Pearl trying to walk to sov after i finally finish editing my video.

i take some really dope shots of the sunset

pause for incoming illustration

R: i mean

sure

make hay

all of the birds with 1 stone

J: -picture of sov-

R: this is sov

dark

but its sov

J: it's the golden sunset reflecting off the walls

then we all go to kfc and then i try look for some shoes to wear to the wedding, but then mi nuh even know if it's really a beach ting, but never fear, my likkle sister is here to whatsapp me the link to the wedding info website the couple set up!

it's a garden brunch affair ting

so we think to go to lee's instead of payless and when we reach back in fronta payless di people dem close

so now i will go to the thrift store tmrw to cop a whole new fit from the dress to the shoes.

when i reach home my father is going to the airport and grandma (dad's mom, not the one i was tryna see earlier) asks me to come with them which i would have done anyway.

driving back from the airport, grandma's bajan soca music continues to play in the car, but it seems louder now without dad's voice. i try to talk to grandma about herself. i ask about high school. she says, "do you expect me to remember 50 years ago"

i'm like yes of course

she said

"well

i was head girl"

of course! i say

and she was also in charge of sports such as running

the drive back home is very slow because grandma cant really see in the dark

when we finally reach home and i lay inna mi bed, mi wonda why mi so tiyad

and now i know why

thanks for tuning in, this has been an appreciation for the life we live, by Jeana like jeans pants

totes forgot the best part where K-dollasign pulled up on Carlton and me in traffic when we walked back to the plaza to get to the car

then another man pulled up on us and Carlton cuss me jokingly bout how i know everyone and we probably see someone else weh mi know

#fabulous

R: like bloodcleet jeans pants

yea, cause clearly you're a superstar

beer people, links and visits

J: