Legends of Chamberlain Heights (2016) s02e02 Episode Script
Chocolate Milk
1 [funky hip-hop music.]
Damn, I'm sick of sitting down in The Pit with the Urkels and Section Eights.
This ain't no place for a legend.
Yeah, we ain't gon' get no "vajayjay Abrams" sittin' next to fly guy.
[mouse squeaks.]
Speaking of getting no "vajayjay," where's Milk? - [slap.]
Ah! - Don't you ever grab my pussy again! Here come Machine Gun Smelly.
Our president said it was okay, so mind your business.
Man, white girls got too much carbon.
I gotta find me a righteous Hotep ho with them brown nipples.
[African music.]
[singing in African language.]
A'pos'trafee'a? From now on, my name is Queen La'pos'trafee'a.
I have discovered my African roots on Black Twitter.
I am inviting you Nubian kings to my first annual Nat Turn Up.
So please come, Grover and Jamal.
Uh-uh, not you, Paul Wall.
But I'm more nig than all you nigs.
Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Damn! Ever since Trump got elected, y'all been taking extra slaps.
Uh, Milk, my turn up is for uplifting the black experience and you, my melanin starved brother, are as my grandmother would proudly say, a honky.
I don't know what that mean, - but if I don't go, they don't go.
- Shit, I'll be there.
Sorry, Milk, this party only for black.
2x02 - "Chocolate Milk" [mellow hip-hop music.]
This turn up gon' be lit.
A'pos'trafee'a's parties are legendary.
And nothing makes a "vagiggle" wriggle like rosé, trap music, and Swahili.
How she gon' invite you two and not me? I'm the "gangsterest" one in here.
You sure are, my little Nipsey Hustle.
Ain't nobody ask you, Moms, but you goddamn right.
Thanks for always having my back.
All right, off to the party.
Make sure you check our Snapchats at the party! Hashtag Milk ain't here.
[laughs.]
Whoo! Black guys! [sad music.]
I'm not in the mood.
I'm going through some "thangs.
" Are you feeling pasty and pale? [music.]
Unathletic and small meated? Would you like to be able to sing every word to your favorite rap song with your windows down? Without getting [bleep.]
up? Are your black friends invited to Nat Turn Ups without you? Well, then, hail a cab while you still can and come on down to the Rachel Dolezal Tanning Salon! [fast reading.]
[hip-hop music.]
[bell dings.]
I know exactly why you're here.
Hi, I'm Shoshana, your certified melanologist.
How'd you find out about us? Yelp, Snapchat, or Kardashian sex tape? Man, [bleep.]
all that.
Just show me to the black beds.
Okay, super serious question.
How often do you wanna be stopped and frisked? A lot.
A whole lot.
Slow down, Macklemore.
Straight to Akon requires a manager's approval.
There's paper work, it's this whole process.
Let's just get you started with a nice golden Chris Brown.
It's our biggest hit.
Hell "jeah," I finally get to fix God's mistake.
[funky hip-hop music.]
Welcome, my kemetic Hoteps of the Black Twitterverse.
What's this for? I didn't leave my wallet in El Segundo.
Oh, one cannot twerk in the uniform of the oppressor.
Instead, we will shake our asses in the robes of glory.
I ain't wearing this Kunta Kinte cloth.
- This shit ain't league.
- Yeah, I think mine got AIDS.
- Hey, Grover.
- Wait up, my empowered sista.
Let's get freaky in the dashiki.
[hip-hop music.]
[RnB music.]
[mellow hip-hop music.]
[yawns.]
Mmm! That buffet is on point! They got "Bernie Mac and Cheese," "Tri-tip Called Quest," "Keisha Coleslaw," and for desert, "Cuba Pudding Junior.
" Hey, it's kinda boring, but somehow it works.
[chomps.]
This Hotep party is not the wave.
They should call it a "no-tep" party, my nig.
Yeah, the "itis" is setting in.
This janky-ass party need a kicker.
[gangster rap.]
What's crackin', my ni-i-igs? - Milk, is that you? - It's Chocolate Milk, homey, and thanks to the Rachel Dolezal Tanning Salon, I'm "black-ish," my nigs.
Part of me wants to smack him.
The other wants to dap him.
- Bars.
- Well, while you contemplating, let's get this shit lit.
[funky hip-hop music.]
[slapping.]
Aye, homey, no reniggin'.
[all yelling.]
[forced laugh.]
He got me! Deep burn.
[chuckles.]
Damn, my nig, hangin' with the brown boy formerly known as white could get us nuts deep in black booty.
Yeah, we might even get some of his after-skeets.
Hey, you trying to cuddle with this puddle - and, uh, touch taste buds? - [bleep.]
off.
I'm trying to get dicked down by this butterscotch brownie.
Oh! That's our nig! You wanna meet him? 'Cause uh maybe we can arrange something.
Maybe a little "tit for dat?" Oh, shit, you shoulda led with that.
- I jumped on the grenade last time.
- Mm-mm.
Ho, but I [bleep.]
ed Dellavedova bareback and he wasn't even starting, bitch.
Hello, can somebody make a decision please? [bleep.]
it.
Let's just flip for it.
- Yass! - Oh, [bleep.]
.
Both: Mmm.
[slurping.]
Hey, quit hogging the stink, Jamal.
- Mmm.
- Mmm.
- Hey, Milk.
You better call me.
- Okay.
Hey, that party was lit, but you know it ain't no fun if your homeys don't get none.
Funny, the homeys is the only ones that say that.
Yo, you gon' play us like that? Y'all know the drill.
I keep the nines and dimes.
Y'all can have my soft sixes and sevens, but I get all them Caribbeans.
"Non-negrotiable.
" Maybe your "light-skindedness" can help me get Cindy.
Whatever you need.
What up, my nig? Look, I don't care what transition you go through, you still can't be saying "nig" to me.
You always gon' be white Milk.
Nah, it's Chocolate Milk, homey, 'cause I got that Nestlé Quik dick.
Stay black.
See, this another thing I been talking about.
White appropriation.
They take our fashion, our music, our culture.
Why don't they take something black people don't want? Like diabetes, sickle cell, Omarosa, OJ, the electoral college, swimming pools, - police beatings, the City of Atlanta.
- Talking during the movie.
- Black female customers.
- Hey, mother[bleep.]
s, I do the rants! Both: Sorry, boss.
Now, where was I? Oh, yeah, Charles Barkley [slow hip-hop music.]
What's up, Chocolate Milk? I want you to give me that Vitamin D, Milk.
Hey, it's Chocolate Milk and the bros that aren't Chocolate Milk.
[laughs.]
You hear that? They talking about us.
Hey, there go Cindy.
Now, put your high yellow magic to work and help make Cindy's pants disappear.
[music.]
Hey, Cindy, I was wondering if you'd go out with a nig? Yeah, I'll go out with you.
What the [bleep.]
? Cindy, what about my dick? [whispers.]
Shut up, nigga! Don't mess this up for me.
Okay, then.
Uh, did I just overhear you going out with Cindy? You promised we could hang out tonight.
Don't worry, baby, there's enough Nutella to spread on both them cheeks.
Hit me later.
I gots to go put some primpin' in my pimpin'.
I'll see you two crotch goblins at the Blue Crab.
- [slap.]
Oh! - Don't be late.
You trying to knock down Cindy and A'pos'trafee'a? Man, you being a ball hog.
Why would I pass when I got this big, black mamba, my nig? Kobe! [slap.]
Ah! What you do that for? I can say it now.
That one's for not being my nig and mentioning Kobe.
Look, we're finally black brothers.
We ain't supposed to be beefing.
You know I ain't trying to smash Cindy.
But I am "finna" see what that mouth do.
- Ooh! - I never liked you anyway, you pretty, beige mother[bleep.]
! Oh, you gon' let him do that, Grove? You're the one who [grunting.]
All right, all right, that's enough.
What's y'all problem? You been actin' straight up hateful eight ever since I cured my Vitiligo.
Milk, bro.
Brody.
Honky.
You're white.
Hey, we can't choose the skin we in.
That's exactly what you did.
You need to get off your own dick.
Hey, you right.
I got Cindy for that.
I should [bleep.]
him up.
I don't know, my nig.
He can probably fight now.
[upbeat hip-hop music.]
[cheering.]
Loosen up! We gotta win this thing, so I'm putting you in the game, mother[bleep.]
! - Oh, yeah, man, let's go! - About time Coach Bundy stopped trippin'! - Aw, hell yeah.
- Nobody's talking to you two brownies! I'm talking to this handsome, Klay Thompson-lookin' mother[bleep.]
.
- Wha - Whaaat? Everybody knows if it ain't light, it ain't right! And it damn sure ain't getting in the game tonight! Bars! Coach Bundy only [bleep.]
with real black legends.
[All chanting.]
Chocolate Milk! Chocolate Milk! Chocolate Milk! Chocolate Milk! [cheers and applause.]
[music.]
[thud.]
[blows whistle.]
I got a foul on two-four.
- Hell "jeah!" - Come on, ref.
I ain't even touch him! - Put your hands behind your back.
- What? It was just a foul.
Well, you fouled one ofhe good ones.
That's what that light privilege do.
I'm tired of all this love Milk's been getting.
You overreacting, Grove.
Sure, Milk's soaking in the "house-niggy" shine right now, but it ain't nothing to get salty about.
Ah! The last sloppy joe! Ah! What the [bleep.]
, Gladys? I thought we had something special! You at least gonna share some of that, right? Mmm.
This the best thing I ever tasted.
Too bad I'm not hungry.
[bleep.]
you, Gladys! That's why you had three miscarriages, you barren, syphilitic, sour-wombed [bleep.]
! Ooh, fish sticks! I'll take two, please.
[hip-hop music.]
Milk, this is an official black cease and desist letter, drawn up by my Hebrew Israelite lawyer.
- "Hebrew Israelite?" - If I'ma have a Jew as a lawyer, he gonna at least be a OG Jew.
Read it out loud! Out loud! - "I hereby demand that" - Not like that! Like this! [megaphone feedback.]
I hereby demand the white cracker devil stop perpetrating his fraud and go back to the caves from whence he came! Now, if you'll just sign here.
Man, I'm sick of "dark-skinded" nigs.
Y'all been brainwashed by BET and liberal white women.
You think you entitled to some shit just 'cause you sub-Saharan, then you hate on a nig that's actually trying to achieve? You're achieving because you pass the paper bag test.
White guilt makes folks overcompensate, but only on light-skinned blacks.
You're a shade closer to them and therefore more palatable.
I think all y'all just mad 'cause my black life matters more than yours.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'ma go to the tanning salon and hit these palms.
So, Milk wants to be black, huh? [hip-hop music.]
[bell dings.]
[dramatic hip-hop music.]
Nah, he gon' learn today.
[whirring.]
[groans.]
[screams.]
What you screaming at? Aww, hell "jeah!" [screams.]
Shoshana, you are so fired! Alert the authorities.
Aww, [bleep.]
"jeah!" [classy music.]
[groans.]
Aw, damn.
[clatter.]
[car alarm chirps.]
[car alarm chirps.]
[roof whirring.]
[side-window whirring.]
It's not personal.
I'm just a little scared.
How could you miss cram school, Jae Kim? What were you doing? I'm sorry, Father.
I was hanging out with Malik.
How many times have I told you not to associate with that ni [bell dings.]
[heavy Chinese accent.]
Oh! A customer! I'm sorry, we are out of Swishers.
- I ain't here for no Swishers.
- Then we closed.
But the sign say you open.
Asian closed look very similar to American open.
It all about how you look at it.
We close for Asian Holiday.
Jae Kim, streamers! [Chinese music.]
Man, whatever.
Y'all do you and I'ma do me.
You buy and go! I feel sorry for your mother.
[bell dings.]
Hey, what's wrong, Draymond? Hey, lately folks been acting different.
Let me guess, they're trippin', and you went from first class jackass to second class citizen.
- Jeah! - Hey, that's the black trap, man.
When the lights get dimmer, people get scared.
That ain't cool.
Shit starting to piss me off.
- What am I supposed to do? - Do what every black man does when he runs out of options go get a job at the airport, or move in with a white woman, or open up a barbershop.
[hip-hop music.]
Hands up, asshole! [siren wailing.]
Oh, what up, Neal and Jamie? I don't need a ride along, but appreciate you.
Shut up, Draymond.
Up against the wall.
Where are you going in that gang attire?! Gang attire? You mean this hoodie? I don't care what you and your homeboys call it in the trap house.
I said Skeetles! Skeetles! Code Eggplant! [sirens wailing.]
[tires screeching.]
This some ol' bullshit.
[hip-hop music.]
Hey, what's up, my "Thicky" Minaj a trois? Sorry I'm late.
Eww.
Why you look like you been in a fire? Hmm.
More like two fires.
Ain't no thang, baby, just a little mishap at the dermo.
I'm still black like me, though.
Let's just order.
Uh-uh, nope, I can't do this.
He's just too black.
- I done lost my appetite.
- Eww, he remind me of Harambe.
Now I'm just sad.
Ooh, I can't eat either.
Oh, so now y'all gon' segregate this nine? [hip-hop music.]
Mama, hope you made some grits and hot links for dinner.
[screams.]
Hey, don't hurt me! Here, take my wife! [giggles.]
Oh, yeah, take me.
Whoa! Come on, Ma.
It's me.
- Milton? - Milky? Well, now I guess I'll never know who his dad is.
Wait, he's black now? We didn't have a family meeting about this.
The Yeezys alone will bankrupt us.
Nope, uh-uh, not happening.
This is my limit.
It's either me or the dark side.
Cool, may the Force be with you, buster-ass Uncle Joey.
- Maybe you should go, Milk.
- Ma, is you serious? [bleep.]
y'all then.
Oh, my son's blackness made me a little moist.
Let's not waste it.
[giggles.]
[hip-hop music.]
Damn, Exxon "Val-deez" nuts.
What happened to you? My blackness got me kicked out the house.
I had to sleep on Afrika Bambaataa's couch, which is on his porch.
Well, congrats on being black, my nigga.
[sniffs.]
I think I smell gout.
You made it.
Uh, thank you? Hey, Jamal, how many combs you go through a week? None, my nig.
I got Indian in my family.
7-Eleven, not casino.
Damn, you lucky.
Y'all still some haters, though.
I bet when he wash his hair, his scalp don't get wet.
[both laughing.]
Starting five, get your mother[bleep.]
ing asses on the court! Where the [bleep.]
you think you going, Nappy King Cole? - Out on the court, Coach.
- You ain't going nowhere, mother[bleep.]
! - Why not? - Do I gotta click it to you, Mutombo? [clicking tongue.]
You don't know the rules to the game! I can't have you out there, kicking the basketball like it's goddamn soccer! It's a miracle you even got on shoes.
Man, this-tarbaby on-some-end-Aparteid free-Madoo-voovoozella type-shit.
[laughter.]
What happened to him? He look like a pair of police boot.
Eww, he look like a glass of Coke with two lemons.
Ah! Bro's black as shit! - The [bleep.]
y'all want? - Yo, Milk, what's good? Why you rolling up on me like I'm selling loose cigarettes? We with you.
No need to get mad at us.
- Just calm down! - I am calm, buster! Nice moves on the court, Ashy Mamba.
[laughs.]
It's like the whole world against me and now y'all gon' front on me, too? [laughter.]
Aww, what's the matter? You gonna cry? [ventilating.]
Probably cries shoe polish.
[grumbles.]
Get it? 'Cause he's so black? [laughs.]
- Harambe.
- You buy and go! - Stop resisting.
- You look like you've been in a fire.
Bro's black as shit.
- Draymond.
- Draymond.
All: Draymond! [seethes.]
Hey, what's wrong with you? You need to chill.
Need to chill? Need to chill?! Need to chill?!! [growling.]
[music.]
Oh, goddamn.
- You got something to say? - Man, come on, man, don't nobody care Damn, nigga.
That's gon' leave a mark.
[grunts.]
[sobs.]
[growling.]
Okay, Milk, chill.
You got 'em.
Yeah, so why don't you just take it easy? Why I always gotta be the one to take it easy? Why, Jamal? Huh? 'Cause you look like Draymond, my nig.
[growling.]
Uh, we may need to do something about this - before it gets out of hand.
- Yeah, I know.
Let's go to Starbucks, sit outside, and brainstorm.
[mellow hip-hop music.]
- [gunshot.]
Oh, shit.
- Yeezus Christ! Sorry, cuz, I thought you was an intruder.
- My bad.
- But you in my house.
Hey, stall Shea out.
He trying to protect our castle.
It's called Homeland Security, nigga.
Montrel, we need your help.
Let me guess, white boy done snapped, - tearing shit up and shit.
- Wow, is you telepathic? Man, I been watching it on Worldstar all day.
That shit hilarious.
[growls.]
Good, now he know what it's like.
What is you talking about, Malik? I'm the one who turned up the dial on that counterfeit negro.
He needed to learn a lesson on the actual factual black.
You know Milk can't handle that kind of darkness.
Hey, you shoulda stopped at Wesley, cuz.
You right.
Milk hasn't had a lifetime to build up enough stamina for all that niggy-ness.
We gotta figure out a way to boot him back to Bieber.
Man, real talk, I wouldn't change shit.
- I [bleep.]
with that nigga.
- If you wanna unblack Milk, you gotta get him an old-fashioned "blaxorcism.
" And I know a place that can hook you up.
Just like they did Raven-Symoné, cuz.
Hmm, this is very troubling.
You were right to come here.
At this rate, this young man is going to either end up dead, in prison, or married to a reality show Armenian.
Those first two are viable options, but I will not tolerate the third.
Is there anything you can do? We've had a great deal of success dealing with angry black men.
You just leave him to us.
[dramatic music.]
[horses neighing.]
[groans.]
Get off me, homey! What y'all doing? [grunting.]
Whichever nig got me up here about to catch a fade.
Oh, you think you're tough, huh? - Who said that? - It's me, Joe Jackson.
Uh, Rebbie's dad? I'm sorry, who? Oh, that's right.
She the one that did "Centipede.
" Yeah, that's me.
They put me in charge of lightening you up, boy.
[chuckles.]
Worked for Michael.
Who do you think changed his look in '89? And '94? And here's how I'm gonna change you.
I'm gon' break you.
I'm gon' work you.
I'ma whip you till your back gives out.
And that will be the story of you, Milk.
You put your hands on me, and I'm gonna stick my foot up your ass, buster.
O-ho, you wanna be starting something, huh? You think you're bad? Well, I'm off the wall.
[groans.]
Now - Ah! - What's your name, boy? Milk.
[groans.]
Your name is Tito.
[groans.]
I mean Milton.
[groans.]
That is for making me correct myself.
[groans.]
Now, what's your name, boy? [sobbing.]
Milton.
- What's this? - It's your Oscar.
All white people get one.
What up, my dudes? [winces, groans.]
Sorry we had to put you through all that, - but you was getting out of pocket.
- Don't even sweat it.
From now on, I'ma leave the dark-skinned stuff to Terry Crews's forehead.
I'm just glad everything is black to normal.
Now that you white again, you gotta pay back all those nigs you was popping off when you thought you was a real nig, my nig.
[groaning.]
Ah, easy with the nails, my nig! Ah! [laughter.]
[groaning.]
# But when I get this party poppin' # I'm a prophecy bringer of these frivolities Will all you please notice it, my odysseys? Like Homer next to Socrates Laughing, intoxicated You watchin' divine comedies - # Hotter than # - Ah, damn, the show over!
Damn, I'm sick of sitting down in The Pit with the Urkels and Section Eights.
This ain't no place for a legend.
Yeah, we ain't gon' get no "vajayjay Abrams" sittin' next to fly guy.
[mouse squeaks.]
Speaking of getting no "vajayjay," where's Milk? - [slap.]
Ah! - Don't you ever grab my pussy again! Here come Machine Gun Smelly.
Our president said it was okay, so mind your business.
Man, white girls got too much carbon.
I gotta find me a righteous Hotep ho with them brown nipples.
[African music.]
[singing in African language.]
A'pos'trafee'a? From now on, my name is Queen La'pos'trafee'a.
I have discovered my African roots on Black Twitter.
I am inviting you Nubian kings to my first annual Nat Turn Up.
So please come, Grover and Jamal.
Uh-uh, not you, Paul Wall.
But I'm more nig than all you nigs.
Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Damn! Ever since Trump got elected, y'all been taking extra slaps.
Uh, Milk, my turn up is for uplifting the black experience and you, my melanin starved brother, are as my grandmother would proudly say, a honky.
I don't know what that mean, - but if I don't go, they don't go.
- Shit, I'll be there.
Sorry, Milk, this party only for black.
2x02 - "Chocolate Milk" [mellow hip-hop music.]
This turn up gon' be lit.
A'pos'trafee'a's parties are legendary.
And nothing makes a "vagiggle" wriggle like rosé, trap music, and Swahili.
How she gon' invite you two and not me? I'm the "gangsterest" one in here.
You sure are, my little Nipsey Hustle.
Ain't nobody ask you, Moms, but you goddamn right.
Thanks for always having my back.
All right, off to the party.
Make sure you check our Snapchats at the party! Hashtag Milk ain't here.
[laughs.]
Whoo! Black guys! [sad music.]
I'm not in the mood.
I'm going through some "thangs.
" Are you feeling pasty and pale? [music.]
Unathletic and small meated? Would you like to be able to sing every word to your favorite rap song with your windows down? Without getting [bleep.]
up? Are your black friends invited to Nat Turn Ups without you? Well, then, hail a cab while you still can and come on down to the Rachel Dolezal Tanning Salon! [fast reading.]
[hip-hop music.]
[bell dings.]
I know exactly why you're here.
Hi, I'm Shoshana, your certified melanologist.
How'd you find out about us? Yelp, Snapchat, or Kardashian sex tape? Man, [bleep.]
all that.
Just show me to the black beds.
Okay, super serious question.
How often do you wanna be stopped and frisked? A lot.
A whole lot.
Slow down, Macklemore.
Straight to Akon requires a manager's approval.
There's paper work, it's this whole process.
Let's just get you started with a nice golden Chris Brown.
It's our biggest hit.
Hell "jeah," I finally get to fix God's mistake.
[funky hip-hop music.]
Welcome, my kemetic Hoteps of the Black Twitterverse.
What's this for? I didn't leave my wallet in El Segundo.
Oh, one cannot twerk in the uniform of the oppressor.
Instead, we will shake our asses in the robes of glory.
I ain't wearing this Kunta Kinte cloth.
- This shit ain't league.
- Yeah, I think mine got AIDS.
- Hey, Grover.
- Wait up, my empowered sista.
Let's get freaky in the dashiki.
[hip-hop music.]
[RnB music.]
[mellow hip-hop music.]
[yawns.]
Mmm! That buffet is on point! They got "Bernie Mac and Cheese," "Tri-tip Called Quest," "Keisha Coleslaw," and for desert, "Cuba Pudding Junior.
" Hey, it's kinda boring, but somehow it works.
[chomps.]
This Hotep party is not the wave.
They should call it a "no-tep" party, my nig.
Yeah, the "itis" is setting in.
This janky-ass party need a kicker.
[gangster rap.]
What's crackin', my ni-i-igs? - Milk, is that you? - It's Chocolate Milk, homey, and thanks to the Rachel Dolezal Tanning Salon, I'm "black-ish," my nigs.
Part of me wants to smack him.
The other wants to dap him.
- Bars.
- Well, while you contemplating, let's get this shit lit.
[funky hip-hop music.]
[slapping.]
Aye, homey, no reniggin'.
[all yelling.]
[forced laugh.]
He got me! Deep burn.
[chuckles.]
Damn, my nig, hangin' with the brown boy formerly known as white could get us nuts deep in black booty.
Yeah, we might even get some of his after-skeets.
Hey, you trying to cuddle with this puddle - and, uh, touch taste buds? - [bleep.]
off.
I'm trying to get dicked down by this butterscotch brownie.
Oh! That's our nig! You wanna meet him? 'Cause uh maybe we can arrange something.
Maybe a little "tit for dat?" Oh, shit, you shoulda led with that.
- I jumped on the grenade last time.
- Mm-mm.
Ho, but I [bleep.]
ed Dellavedova bareback and he wasn't even starting, bitch.
Hello, can somebody make a decision please? [bleep.]
it.
Let's just flip for it.
- Yass! - Oh, [bleep.]
.
Both: Mmm.
[slurping.]
Hey, quit hogging the stink, Jamal.
- Mmm.
- Mmm.
- Hey, Milk.
You better call me.
- Okay.
Hey, that party was lit, but you know it ain't no fun if your homeys don't get none.
Funny, the homeys is the only ones that say that.
Yo, you gon' play us like that? Y'all know the drill.
I keep the nines and dimes.
Y'all can have my soft sixes and sevens, but I get all them Caribbeans.
"Non-negrotiable.
" Maybe your "light-skindedness" can help me get Cindy.
Whatever you need.
What up, my nig? Look, I don't care what transition you go through, you still can't be saying "nig" to me.
You always gon' be white Milk.
Nah, it's Chocolate Milk, homey, 'cause I got that Nestlé Quik dick.
Stay black.
See, this another thing I been talking about.
White appropriation.
They take our fashion, our music, our culture.
Why don't they take something black people don't want? Like diabetes, sickle cell, Omarosa, OJ, the electoral college, swimming pools, - police beatings, the City of Atlanta.
- Talking during the movie.
- Black female customers.
- Hey, mother[bleep.]
s, I do the rants! Both: Sorry, boss.
Now, where was I? Oh, yeah, Charles Barkley [slow hip-hop music.]
What's up, Chocolate Milk? I want you to give me that Vitamin D, Milk.
Hey, it's Chocolate Milk and the bros that aren't Chocolate Milk.
[laughs.]
You hear that? They talking about us.
Hey, there go Cindy.
Now, put your high yellow magic to work and help make Cindy's pants disappear.
[music.]
Hey, Cindy, I was wondering if you'd go out with a nig? Yeah, I'll go out with you.
What the [bleep.]
? Cindy, what about my dick? [whispers.]
Shut up, nigga! Don't mess this up for me.
Okay, then.
Uh, did I just overhear you going out with Cindy? You promised we could hang out tonight.
Don't worry, baby, there's enough Nutella to spread on both them cheeks.
Hit me later.
I gots to go put some primpin' in my pimpin'.
I'll see you two crotch goblins at the Blue Crab.
- [slap.]
Oh! - Don't be late.
You trying to knock down Cindy and A'pos'trafee'a? Man, you being a ball hog.
Why would I pass when I got this big, black mamba, my nig? Kobe! [slap.]
Ah! What you do that for? I can say it now.
That one's for not being my nig and mentioning Kobe.
Look, we're finally black brothers.
We ain't supposed to be beefing.
You know I ain't trying to smash Cindy.
But I am "finna" see what that mouth do.
- Ooh! - I never liked you anyway, you pretty, beige mother[bleep.]
! Oh, you gon' let him do that, Grove? You're the one who [grunting.]
All right, all right, that's enough.
What's y'all problem? You been actin' straight up hateful eight ever since I cured my Vitiligo.
Milk, bro.
Brody.
Honky.
You're white.
Hey, we can't choose the skin we in.
That's exactly what you did.
You need to get off your own dick.
Hey, you right.
I got Cindy for that.
I should [bleep.]
him up.
I don't know, my nig.
He can probably fight now.
[upbeat hip-hop music.]
[cheering.]
Loosen up! We gotta win this thing, so I'm putting you in the game, mother[bleep.]
! - Oh, yeah, man, let's go! - About time Coach Bundy stopped trippin'! - Aw, hell yeah.
- Nobody's talking to you two brownies! I'm talking to this handsome, Klay Thompson-lookin' mother[bleep.]
.
- Wha - Whaaat? Everybody knows if it ain't light, it ain't right! And it damn sure ain't getting in the game tonight! Bars! Coach Bundy only [bleep.]
with real black legends.
[All chanting.]
Chocolate Milk! Chocolate Milk! Chocolate Milk! Chocolate Milk! [cheers and applause.]
[music.]
[thud.]
[blows whistle.]
I got a foul on two-four.
- Hell "jeah!" - Come on, ref.
I ain't even touch him! - Put your hands behind your back.
- What? It was just a foul.
Well, you fouled one ofhe good ones.
That's what that light privilege do.
I'm tired of all this love Milk's been getting.
You overreacting, Grove.
Sure, Milk's soaking in the "house-niggy" shine right now, but it ain't nothing to get salty about.
Ah! The last sloppy joe! Ah! What the [bleep.]
, Gladys? I thought we had something special! You at least gonna share some of that, right? Mmm.
This the best thing I ever tasted.
Too bad I'm not hungry.
[bleep.]
you, Gladys! That's why you had three miscarriages, you barren, syphilitic, sour-wombed [bleep.]
! Ooh, fish sticks! I'll take two, please.
[hip-hop music.]
Milk, this is an official black cease and desist letter, drawn up by my Hebrew Israelite lawyer.
- "Hebrew Israelite?" - If I'ma have a Jew as a lawyer, he gonna at least be a OG Jew.
Read it out loud! Out loud! - "I hereby demand that" - Not like that! Like this! [megaphone feedback.]
I hereby demand the white cracker devil stop perpetrating his fraud and go back to the caves from whence he came! Now, if you'll just sign here.
Man, I'm sick of "dark-skinded" nigs.
Y'all been brainwashed by BET and liberal white women.
You think you entitled to some shit just 'cause you sub-Saharan, then you hate on a nig that's actually trying to achieve? You're achieving because you pass the paper bag test.
White guilt makes folks overcompensate, but only on light-skinned blacks.
You're a shade closer to them and therefore more palatable.
I think all y'all just mad 'cause my black life matters more than yours.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'ma go to the tanning salon and hit these palms.
So, Milk wants to be black, huh? [hip-hop music.]
[bell dings.]
[dramatic hip-hop music.]
Nah, he gon' learn today.
[whirring.]
[groans.]
[screams.]
What you screaming at? Aww, hell "jeah!" [screams.]
Shoshana, you are so fired! Alert the authorities.
Aww, [bleep.]
"jeah!" [classy music.]
[groans.]
Aw, damn.
[clatter.]
[car alarm chirps.]
[car alarm chirps.]
[roof whirring.]
[side-window whirring.]
It's not personal.
I'm just a little scared.
How could you miss cram school, Jae Kim? What were you doing? I'm sorry, Father.
I was hanging out with Malik.
How many times have I told you not to associate with that ni [bell dings.]
[heavy Chinese accent.]
Oh! A customer! I'm sorry, we are out of Swishers.
- I ain't here for no Swishers.
- Then we closed.
But the sign say you open.
Asian closed look very similar to American open.
It all about how you look at it.
We close for Asian Holiday.
Jae Kim, streamers! [Chinese music.]
Man, whatever.
Y'all do you and I'ma do me.
You buy and go! I feel sorry for your mother.
[bell dings.]
Hey, what's wrong, Draymond? Hey, lately folks been acting different.
Let me guess, they're trippin', and you went from first class jackass to second class citizen.
- Jeah! - Hey, that's the black trap, man.
When the lights get dimmer, people get scared.
That ain't cool.
Shit starting to piss me off.
- What am I supposed to do? - Do what every black man does when he runs out of options go get a job at the airport, or move in with a white woman, or open up a barbershop.
[hip-hop music.]
Hands up, asshole! [siren wailing.]
Oh, what up, Neal and Jamie? I don't need a ride along, but appreciate you.
Shut up, Draymond.
Up against the wall.
Where are you going in that gang attire?! Gang attire? You mean this hoodie? I don't care what you and your homeboys call it in the trap house.
I said Skeetles! Skeetles! Code Eggplant! [sirens wailing.]
[tires screeching.]
This some ol' bullshit.
[hip-hop music.]
Hey, what's up, my "Thicky" Minaj a trois? Sorry I'm late.
Eww.
Why you look like you been in a fire? Hmm.
More like two fires.
Ain't no thang, baby, just a little mishap at the dermo.
I'm still black like me, though.
Let's just order.
Uh-uh, nope, I can't do this.
He's just too black.
- I done lost my appetite.
- Eww, he remind me of Harambe.
Now I'm just sad.
Ooh, I can't eat either.
Oh, so now y'all gon' segregate this nine? [hip-hop music.]
Mama, hope you made some grits and hot links for dinner.
[screams.]
Hey, don't hurt me! Here, take my wife! [giggles.]
Oh, yeah, take me.
Whoa! Come on, Ma.
It's me.
- Milton? - Milky? Well, now I guess I'll never know who his dad is.
Wait, he's black now? We didn't have a family meeting about this.
The Yeezys alone will bankrupt us.
Nope, uh-uh, not happening.
This is my limit.
It's either me or the dark side.
Cool, may the Force be with you, buster-ass Uncle Joey.
- Maybe you should go, Milk.
- Ma, is you serious? [bleep.]
y'all then.
Oh, my son's blackness made me a little moist.
Let's not waste it.
[giggles.]
[hip-hop music.]
Damn, Exxon "Val-deez" nuts.
What happened to you? My blackness got me kicked out the house.
I had to sleep on Afrika Bambaataa's couch, which is on his porch.
Well, congrats on being black, my nigga.
[sniffs.]
I think I smell gout.
You made it.
Uh, thank you? Hey, Jamal, how many combs you go through a week? None, my nig.
I got Indian in my family.
7-Eleven, not casino.
Damn, you lucky.
Y'all still some haters, though.
I bet when he wash his hair, his scalp don't get wet.
[both laughing.]
Starting five, get your mother[bleep.]
ing asses on the court! Where the [bleep.]
you think you going, Nappy King Cole? - Out on the court, Coach.
- You ain't going nowhere, mother[bleep.]
! - Why not? - Do I gotta click it to you, Mutombo? [clicking tongue.]
You don't know the rules to the game! I can't have you out there, kicking the basketball like it's goddamn soccer! It's a miracle you even got on shoes.
Man, this-tarbaby on-some-end-Aparteid free-Madoo-voovoozella type-shit.
[laughter.]
What happened to him? He look like a pair of police boot.
Eww, he look like a glass of Coke with two lemons.
Ah! Bro's black as shit! - The [bleep.]
y'all want? - Yo, Milk, what's good? Why you rolling up on me like I'm selling loose cigarettes? We with you.
No need to get mad at us.
- Just calm down! - I am calm, buster! Nice moves on the court, Ashy Mamba.
[laughs.]
It's like the whole world against me and now y'all gon' front on me, too? [laughter.]
Aww, what's the matter? You gonna cry? [ventilating.]
Probably cries shoe polish.
[grumbles.]
Get it? 'Cause he's so black? [laughs.]
- Harambe.
- You buy and go! - Stop resisting.
- You look like you've been in a fire.
Bro's black as shit.
- Draymond.
- Draymond.
All: Draymond! [seethes.]
Hey, what's wrong with you? You need to chill.
Need to chill? Need to chill?! Need to chill?!! [growling.]
[music.]
Oh, goddamn.
- You got something to say? - Man, come on, man, don't nobody care Damn, nigga.
That's gon' leave a mark.
[grunts.]
[sobs.]
[growling.]
Okay, Milk, chill.
You got 'em.
Yeah, so why don't you just take it easy? Why I always gotta be the one to take it easy? Why, Jamal? Huh? 'Cause you look like Draymond, my nig.
[growling.]
Uh, we may need to do something about this - before it gets out of hand.
- Yeah, I know.
Let's go to Starbucks, sit outside, and brainstorm.
[mellow hip-hop music.]
- [gunshot.]
Oh, shit.
- Yeezus Christ! Sorry, cuz, I thought you was an intruder.
- My bad.
- But you in my house.
Hey, stall Shea out.
He trying to protect our castle.
It's called Homeland Security, nigga.
Montrel, we need your help.
Let me guess, white boy done snapped, - tearing shit up and shit.
- Wow, is you telepathic? Man, I been watching it on Worldstar all day.
That shit hilarious.
[growls.]
Good, now he know what it's like.
What is you talking about, Malik? I'm the one who turned up the dial on that counterfeit negro.
He needed to learn a lesson on the actual factual black.
You know Milk can't handle that kind of darkness.
Hey, you shoulda stopped at Wesley, cuz.
You right.
Milk hasn't had a lifetime to build up enough stamina for all that niggy-ness.
We gotta figure out a way to boot him back to Bieber.
Man, real talk, I wouldn't change shit.
- I [bleep.]
with that nigga.
- If you wanna unblack Milk, you gotta get him an old-fashioned "blaxorcism.
" And I know a place that can hook you up.
Just like they did Raven-Symoné, cuz.
Hmm, this is very troubling.
You were right to come here.
At this rate, this young man is going to either end up dead, in prison, or married to a reality show Armenian.
Those first two are viable options, but I will not tolerate the third.
Is there anything you can do? We've had a great deal of success dealing with angry black men.
You just leave him to us.
[dramatic music.]
[horses neighing.]
[groans.]
Get off me, homey! What y'all doing? [grunting.]
Whichever nig got me up here about to catch a fade.
Oh, you think you're tough, huh? - Who said that? - It's me, Joe Jackson.
Uh, Rebbie's dad? I'm sorry, who? Oh, that's right.
She the one that did "Centipede.
" Yeah, that's me.
They put me in charge of lightening you up, boy.
[chuckles.]
Worked for Michael.
Who do you think changed his look in '89? And '94? And here's how I'm gonna change you.
I'm gon' break you.
I'm gon' work you.
I'ma whip you till your back gives out.
And that will be the story of you, Milk.
You put your hands on me, and I'm gonna stick my foot up your ass, buster.
O-ho, you wanna be starting something, huh? You think you're bad? Well, I'm off the wall.
[groans.]
Now - Ah! - What's your name, boy? Milk.
[groans.]
Your name is Tito.
[groans.]
I mean Milton.
[groans.]
That is for making me correct myself.
[groans.]
Now, what's your name, boy? [sobbing.]
Milton.
- What's this? - It's your Oscar.
All white people get one.
What up, my dudes? [winces, groans.]
Sorry we had to put you through all that, - but you was getting out of pocket.
- Don't even sweat it.
From now on, I'ma leave the dark-skinned stuff to Terry Crews's forehead.
I'm just glad everything is black to normal.
Now that you white again, you gotta pay back all those nigs you was popping off when you thought you was a real nig, my nig.
[groaning.]
Ah, easy with the nails, my nig! Ah! [laughter.]
[groaning.]
# But when I get this party poppin' # I'm a prophecy bringer of these frivolities Will all you please notice it, my odysseys? Like Homer next to Socrates Laughing, intoxicated You watchin' divine comedies - # Hotter than # - Ah, damn, the show over!