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yourdevilwolf-blog · 6 years

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If you could understand...

“Stupid, Stupid...STUPID.”

The loud noises of Stranglethorn Vale pierced the humid night; the sound of birds, tigers, and Loa knew what else inhabited it’s jungles surrounding the small, rather disgruntled hexxer. Zandali was uttered under a thick wooden mask as Ether once again circled the same tree for the millionth time this night, still too stubborn to admit he was lost.

Lost, in more ways then one.

The tiny elf bit his lip as he crossed his arms in front of a very slender, yet muscular chest, his beads swaying and jingling with his erratic motions, turning one way then another, too deep into the jungle to simply turn back towards camp. His stomach swayed with sickness, chest and heart tightening as the fought back the tears that stung at his eyes; he and Dey had fought again.

And as always - it was his fault.

Ether had not understood the rogue’s words, and with more confusion came more anger, until the pair were shouting and yelling at each other from across the campfire, the hexxer taking off towards the jungle in a fit of rage.

And now he was lost.

Ether knew Dey was a patient man, he had to be to deal with the dancer’s bullshit on a day to day basis, but he also knew Dey had his buttons, and Ether? He seemed very good at pushing those buttons with a tiny angry foot, over and over again until the rogue finally snapped; leading to the position he was in now.

It wasn’t until Ether had trekked angrily half way through the jungle, that he realized he was wrong, and Dey hadn’t meant what he said the way the hexxer thought he had, his mistranslated mind finally wrapping around the meaning of his husband’s words with a heart sick feeling.

Why? Why did he have to be so damn stupid? Why couldn’t he understand? If he could just understand and be smarter, he could be a better mate. Tears began to well up in his eyes again as he wiped them hastily with a slender hand, sobs resounding within his throat as he walked without a known destination. In that moment; Ether hated himself. Dey had been patiently teaching him since day one: was it truly too much to simply stop and ask the man what he meant without spitting fire? This was the man he loved, the man he slept with every night, the man who could make love to him with a single glance; Dey was his everything.

So, why?

Why couldn’t he just be...

He stopped suddenly, the thought halting his walking as lifeless look overcame his pale violet orbs..

Why..

couldn’t..

he...

just...

be...

normal....?

Wouldn’t Dey be so much happier, with someone....like that? Someone who understood him, who didn’t get angry over meaningless things? Visions of Dey with another man who was better then him, in his mind, filled his senses and he bent at the middle as he used a nearby palm tree for support, his stomach was threatening to wretch as he covered his mouth with his hand. The very thought made him sick.

Dey...was all he had.

“Ayyyyy, now lil’ love....whatcha be thinkin’ dem silly thoughts for, huh?”

The hexxer’s gaze flew to his belt, but the shrunken head of his father was still, eerily so, and did not speak as it normally did. But there was no question; that was Ra’jin’s voice. Frantically Ether began to search the area around him, his heart slamming in his chest, his hand coming up to place his voodoo mask on the top of his golden hair as he surveyed the jungle’s depths with a panicked and desperate expression.

“Papa? Papa?!” he called, “Papa!! Please!! Answer Ether!”

Grass, dirt, and branches crunched with a cool air under the hexxer’s simple dirty linen bound feet, his pace picking up to a full out run as his feet pelted the ground soundly. The only light he had was the moon and stars, and neither were too bright this night, despite the moon being full the clouds seemed to be cover the Lunar goddess with it’s embrace - hindering his hunt for the voice he had known since birth.

Where?

“Etta...”

A strangled gasp escaped the tiny elf’s throat, spirit’s of his ancestors swirling around him in the clearing until they became a tangible form, Ether’s violet eyes shaking as they held the image in front of him, one he had not seen in years, and he begged his small legs not to give up from under him as they quaked. Heart in his throat as he took a timid, and rather shaky, step forward.

Ra’jin.

“P-Papa....?” he questioned very lightly, “Papa..i-is that you?”

A broad grin crossed the troll’s face, a proud glimmer in his eyes as he gave a firm nod, his staff giving a sound rap to the ground as he knocked it to get Ether’s full attention.

“Etta, ma boy...little love, why ya be tinkin’ dem thoughts, boy?”

Ether chewed on his lower lip as he stood only a few feet away from his Papa now, unable to believe what was before him despite his experience with spirits and his knowledge of the ancestors. For a moment he wanted to question Ra’jin as to what thought’s he was referring to, but he knew better than that, and no one knew him better than his Papa.

“I-It’s true....though, Dey would be better off...without Ether.”

Another sharp slam to the ground, forcing the hexxer’s errant attention back to the shaman before him, the troll’s eyes narrowed skeptically at his little son.

“Did ya ask ‘em ya’self, Etta? Did ya Dey say dat ta ya?”

“No...”

“Den why dese silly thoughts, hmm? What be on ma lil’ raptor’s mind?”

Ether fiddled with his skirts, thin fabric laden with gold strands and coins, and the slits on the side came clear up to his hips for easy movement. So much swirled in his mind, in his heart, and he found his fingertips ghosting over the golden band that he held so dearly. Ether had never had a ring before, and though since he’d found himself fond of them; only one had the right to adorn his left hand.

“....Dey and Ether fought, cause Ether is so stupid. He not understand Dey, and Dey just try to help all the time....and Ether yell and scream, then Dey yell and scream because Ether yell and scream and - and - “

“Ayyy, sound like marriage ta ma ears, ya tink ya be the only couple dat fights, ay? Ol’ Rai’jin could tell ya a few tings den, but now ain’t ta time. Etta, Etta....ya be so hard on ya’self boy. Ya get so angry wit ya’self cause ya not be understandin’....ya don’ tink ya mate understand dat? Dey be knowin’ how ya are, Etta...he knows lil’ raptor, he knows.”

Ether wrung his hands in front of him, eyes on the ground as he listened to the wise old Shaman’s words, tears now fully streaming down his cheeks and smearing his face paint. Every time he messed up, every time they fought, fear swallowed him whole; fear that he’d never see Dey again. He wanted so much to be part of his world, to understand his world, he pushed himself to speak Thalassian and Orcish, infuriated with himself when he couldn’t make words or misunderstood. And then that female Death Knight....Ether had felt so horrible, after all the hard work Dey had done to teach him, he felt like he failed him as she pointed out his speech. The humiliation built up in him again, and he nibbled harder on his lower lip until he felt the cold touch of death on his chin, Rai’jin’s transparent hand pulling up his chin so violet eyes met his.

“Etta...ma boy, ma sweet boy. It gonna be otay, Rai’jin be knowin’ dis. Oh, Etta...Rai’jin was so worried ‘bout his boy...so worried. But Dey is ‘ere na, and Rai’jin not gotta worry no more ‘bout his little love. Ya safe ma boy, it’s alright...ya be safe. Jus’ follow ya Dey - he know da way.”

Rai’jin’s last words carried weight in Ether’s heart, and the hexxer knew it to be the truth. Dey always did seem to know the way, and no matter how far the tiny elf ran, or how lost and confused the road became; Dey was always waiting with an open hand - waiting for Ether to catch up and take it. A spring broke in Ether and his small frame began shaking with sobs, eyes welling over and spilling to his cheeks and down his chin, eyes still holding his Papa’s.

His Papa.

He’d been his world; his whole world. Now he was gone, Ether had no choice, he had to take another path; and even if he wasn’t alone it hurt. He missed his Papa with all of his heart, and fear was a constant companion that always nagged at the back of his mind. The hexxer’s words were rushed, slipping into full Zandali as he burst like a dam, heart boiling over and into form.

“B-But! What if Dey get’s tired of Ether being so stupid? What if he gives up on me, Papa? What if I become too much? He’s so handsome, Papa. So smart, he’s so smart, and I’m so slow, always struggling to keep up. If he leaves, I’ll be all alone, and my heart....Papa, I love him so much. I love him...so, so much...”

Ether clutched his hands to his heart, eyes shaking and earnest, heart bare to the jungle air, his emotions clanging against their cage bars, eager to be free, and Rai’jin closed his eyes. Ether..his little love, had always been this way, and to Rai’jin - it was beautiful. His little boy felt so much, held so much emotion within him, yet never knew his true potential. His Papa Rai’jin knew how smart Ether was, and wondered if he realized how much he’d advanced since his departure from the village, that his progress compared to other’s was extremely advanced. But Ether would not see it that way; only that his ignorance of the world had caused a rift between him and his husband. He would only see that he could not understand Dey, and in return had hurt his love because he had been to quick with his anger over his misunderstanding and confusion.

Rai’jin steeled himself, praying to the Loa to anchor him to this world for a little longer so he could guide his boy one last time. The hurt and pain in those beautiful pale violet orbs tore at this soul, and how he wished he didn’t have to leave his little boy again. But he knew his time was limited; he had to make good use of it. When the troll spoke again, his voice was clear like thunder, knowing he must be stern to get Ether’s attention..

“Do ya really tink.....Dey will leave ya? Afta all dis time, all ya been through togetha’...ya tink he jus’ leave? Etta, if he were gonna get tired of ya, he’d a dun’ it already, Rai’jin know dis. Etta, dontcha’ know how important ya ‘re to ‘em? I know it be hard fo’ ya lil’ boy, but...ya gotta let ‘em lead, and try ta be a lil’ easier on ya’self. Ya so loved, ya future only jus’ begun ma boy. Ya wanna be ‘part o’ his world? Den be there with ‘em....jus’ don’t let go of his hand, Etta...don’t let go...he gonna show ya da way...”

Slowly, Rai’jin began to slip from the physical plane, back to the spirit planes and Ether felt his heart thud and leap in his chest as he desperately grasped at the spirit’s delicate fibers in an attempt to get him to stay, helplessness grabbing him as he watched his beloved Papa fade from his sight, out of existence, and away from him, like smoke through the hexxer’s slender fingers.

“Ol’ Rai’jin be so proud of ya, Etta...do not forgot dat. Never forget I love ya my boy, my lil’ miracle...”

“Papa!!”

Ether shouted in utter desperation, silver wisps glittering in the moonlight as his father returned to the world beyond, a place where his ancestors were waiting, and no matter how the tiny elf tried to hold on, to chase him down, where Rai’jin went...

Ether could not follow.

“Papa!! Papa please!! Please, please....please. Don’t...go...don’t leave me.... please don’t leave me here....I need you...”

With a thud, eyes still trained on the disappearing traces of ethereal remnants that filled the night sky, Ether fell to his knees, and slowly he fell forward, palms against the dew wet ground as he began to sob loudly, why did he have to say goodbye again?

“P-Papa!!!! ....Papa! Ether...Ether love....you..please, come back...”

“Etta, ya know da way, follow ya heart, ya always did...it will neva steer ya wrong. Remember what Ol’ Rai’jin tell ya....take his hand, don’tcha let go.”

And the troll was gone, the hexxer’s sobs the only sound filling the night air, even the wildlife silent in reverence to the spirits, and once again Ether felt as lost as he did that day, the day he’d left the village with only his direhorn and a small pack of belongings. Ether had left the village to respect his father’s wishes, to learn about the world, even if it would have been easier to stay.

“Papa...”

There was rustle of leaves in the clearing, a few large fauna being pushed aside to make way for a darkly clad figure that walked very cautiously into the open spot, the moon finally shining it’s light past the clouds.

“Ether...”

Two ears gave a tilt, back and forth, to the sound he’d become so accustomed to that he could pick it out of a million voices. Rai’jin’s voice came to him again as he tried to right himself, wiping away his tears with hasty hands before he turned to face his husband, who must have spent at least a couple hours looking for him by the state of his attire. His voice cracked as he tried to speak, Dey’s eyes watching him very carefully behind the leather mask he kept clasped around his face, and concern flickered through his moonstruck orbs as Ether finally spoke up.

“D-Dey...Ether...Ether...”

The hexxer was desperately trying to make words, eyes falling to the dark mossy ground under him, hands wringing again nervously, a gasp rasping from his throat as a single gloved digit caught his chin, Dey now mere inches from him as he pulled his attention to him, a free hand pulling down his mask so Ether could see his face. When the two digits let go of his chin, Dey satisfied he had his attention, he slowly and reassuringly wiped away his husband’s tears, one by one, leaning forward with a fluid motion only Dey was capable of, and kissing streams left behind by emotion.

“Dey has been looking for his Ether, silly monkey, how did you get to be so fast, huh?”

His words were soft, gentle, any trace of anger long gone at the sight of his lover’s tears, and Ether found his hand clutching to front of the rogue’s tunic, his eyes laying shut as he inhaled Dey’s scent; cologne and deep forest after rain. It was his favorite smell in the entire world, and sometimes when Dey was gone, he’d sneak in his drawers and smell the cologne for reassurance if he felt lonely. Without further words, Dey took Ether’s left hand in his, lips laying a soft kiss against the simple gold band that he had given the small elf during their exchange of vows, and though the ceremony of two hearts had not been traditional, Ether would not have wanted it any other way.

“D-Dey, Ether did not understand...”

“I know..”

Ether’s ears laid flat submissively to his mate, and the rogue seemed to have his gaze locked onto him as much as Ether wanted to lower it, he found he couldn’t. The rogue sighed very softly, giving his head a tiny shake as he studied Ether’s face.

“Ether. I know you do not understand some things, and I know we fight sometimes because of it, but Dey should have understood that was why you were angry. I know you are trying, so hard. I’m so proud, Ether, so proud of you. I’ve been chasing you all night, I couldn’t keep up, and Ether...”

The rogue closed his eyes for a moment before speaking again, an expected emotion playing in his eyes now, one so vivid it made Ether take a breath, his lover’s next words startling him a bit.

“Ether, I get scared. When I can’t find you, it scares me. I think, “What if he’s tired of trying to be understood?”, or, “Why can’t you just stop being so stupid Dey? He’s clearly frustrated..”, and it scares me to death when you run off like that after a fight. Ether, couples fight, but you can’t run away from me. I need you just as much as you need me Ether, and we can do this...but we must do it together. Cause our souls? I think they are meant to be together, no...I know they are, because no matter how far you run, or how lost you feel....Dey always finds you, doesn’t he? It’s like an invisible line; leading from you to me. I just follow it...”

“Take his hand, Etta...” Rai’jin’s words echoed, “..and don’t let go.”

“I’m sorry, Dey...”

Ether wrapped his fingers around Dey’s, the rogue immediately giving their joined hands a firm, yet reassuring, squeeze, another slight shake to his head as his dark hair fell over his shoulders.

“Ether, don’t be sorry. Just come to Dey when you don’t understand, he will show you the way. It’s always been that way, and it always will be. Help Dey understand, and he will help you. Ether, you aren’t alone, I would never allow it. Never...”

Dey lowered his head, as if asking permission before it swooped down and caught Ether’s lips, but the hexxer was already on his tippy toes and eagerly awaiting the relief that came with Dey’s kiss. As his husband’s arms embraced him, he felt safe again, his body no longer shaking, and he knew it that moment every would be okay - as long as he had his Dey.

No matter how many times they fought, they’d always seal their apologies to each other with a kiss, and everything would work itself out in the end.

Because even when he did not understand, Dey did.

Dey understood Ether himself, for himself, as he was. Nothing less, and the rogue was in awe of him as much as Ether was in awe of him; they admired each other’s strengths and filled in each other’s weaknesses.

It was balance at it’s finest, and with a sweeping motion of his arms, Ether was bridal style within the smiling rogue’s grasp, another soft kiss laid to his lips as he carted the runaway hexxer back to camp, Ether’s violet eyes closing as his head fell lax against the sound of his husband’s heart, knowing as long as Dey was around...

He’d never be alone.

#ether #dey #raijin #im not crying #you are crying #loa help me

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punkscowardschampions · 5 years

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Rio & Indie

Rio: Are you sitting comfortably? Rio: Because I have POTENTIAL GOOD NEWS FOR ONCE Indie: im cotched baby ✌✌ come thru Indie: whats good? Rio: I found a place Rio: well, Buster did but 'low letting him get all the credit Rio: The lady just rang and said I can go see it at 4 Indie: IS IT??? omf dats so sick Indie: who did mckenna have to mesh like? Indie: bring me w i can leave school rn Rio: Yeah, I know right Rio: Jammy sod but we're well in with a chance as long as it's not like, nothing like the pics Rio: it's a bit outta the 24 but still only a bus ride in so Rio: [Sends said pics] What you think girl?! Indie: hes gon be flexin for days b ready for that 😂😏😂 Indie: bitch we movin up Indie: that place is bare hectic Indie: like a real madness Indie: 😍😍😍😍💖💖👑👑 Rio: 😏 Nothing out the ordinary then Rio: Yeah? I really like it too Rio: I'll swing by, say you've got dentist, whatever Rio: One of the rooms got an en-suite and everything like, no queues for the bathroom what Indie: this got me some type of way Indie: im hyped Indie: they gon let me keep 🐶 w us tho?? Rio: It didn't say nah so we're keeping it quiet but not not bringing him obvs Rio: keep up his training it ain't gonna be an issue, like Indie: BITCH WHAT IS THIS FEELIN Indie: tryna recognise it Indie: buzzin Rio: 🙌🙌🙌 Rio: I got a good feeling about it, it's near St Stephen's green like so Bomber can have walks and not have to worry about glass and shit everywhere Indie: bout to happy cry all up in this lesso Indie: n Indie: i can take my younger w too Rio: I love you babe Rio: it's gon' be so much better and Drew ain't got no claims or no key this time Rio: exactly, Ro be way more hyped letting her in these ends Indie: how this real?? it feels jokes Indie: heads are 👀ing me & i aint care Indie: ya girl havin some emotions step off it Rio: That's what I kept saying man Rio: like such an idiot like what, is this real life, nah, not me 😂 Rio: serious, they ain't know we living the good life, gotta go Indie: ITS HOW YOUR MANS BE LIVIN 💸💸💸 Indie: imma lips him Indie: soz bout it Rio: 😂 I'll let you live, you highkey in your emotions Rio: 'bout him though Rio: you're okay if he wanna live there too, when he comes for Uni? Rio: He doesn't have to, not like they don't have a house, not that far away, like Indie: babe you kno i aint tryna borrow your garms big love but like daddy delivers in all them ways and aint none of us vexiin Indie: he gotta respect my 🐶 mans but if they bros then yeah Rio: Yeah? Rio: Good Rio: we can do it on our own regardless but it'll be easier if he twos it Rio: and obvs, I want him there, ew 😜 Indie: imagine if you be like nah mckenna pay dem bills & dont be comin round 😂😂😂 Indie: its chill fr he aint no wasteman i be tryna avoid Indie: he havin his daddy moment Rio: Ain't tryna be that kinda daddy like soz taking away all dem perks Rio: Rude 😂 Rio: He loves you too, babe Indie: ri we all been knew what kinda wifey you gon b 😂😏😏😂 Indie: he comes for my gaming shit he getting merked tho keep that discipline fo yoself in your bed Rio: Hush child 🤐😏 Rio: Double hush, I don't even know if he 'bout that life so you safe Rio: though challenge him at ur own risk I ain't being part of that 🙄 Indie: thats how it gon b i 👀 Indie: i got a serious q but i aint tryna bring the mood ⬇ Rio: Seen not heard, with you? Doubt that 😉 Rio: go for it Indie: drew cant stop me innit Indie: like for real Rio: I don't see how, like Rio: who's he going to to 'fight' for you Rio: where's his case for us not looking after you/him ever doing it Indie: ✌✌✌✌✌ Indie: he probs not even gon show but Indie: he always coming to take me from home wen i was lil u kno Rio: I know baby Rio: but he never could keep you Rio: and lbr you gonna be actual grown soon, he really ain't got a leg to stand on, I promise, even if he comes through chattin' Indie: i love you Indie: more than Rio: I love you too, it's gonna be so legit, promise Rio: all the shit we liked from our old, but better too Indie: true man we did the most but that yard was clapped Indie: it was a time & imma miss it but this b a better one Indie: a fucking extra hype era or some shit Rio: 👑 Rio: that's the vibe Rio: can bring the 24 realness with without the bullshit, yeah Indie: innit tho Indie: lowkey repin for all my years but Indie: bitch im 🔥🔥⬆⬆ Rio: We should celebrate 'fore we go Rio: also you need diff garms 'cos not showing up with you in uniform like I'm your single muvva Rio: giving the game away shh Indie: lets break into our former & give it the send off it shoulda had Indie: ruuuude Indie: you is my ma deal w that Indie: still sexy w it so Rio: nah shadier to let him keep it Rio: welcome for the glo up boy Rio: 💋 i'll take it Indie: 😂😂😂😂 Indie: im only vexed cos he aint had my baby sis there but you kno he bringin them other young girls back how he do Indie: waste Rio: 😬 Rio: too real Rio: too gross Rio: does anyone know if he's tried to talk to ro or they have orrrr Rio: like what's going on fr Indie: she blockin hardcore Indie: she dont want him near but from what i 👀 & 👂 he aint tryna reach anyway Rio: 😒 Rio: even if he did just to say i know u don't want me here but if u do Rio: bare minimum Rio: whatever Rio: their drama, not ours Rio: we gettin' good Indie: fr if he aint tryna see her i is Indie: she got real fam Indie: & me too Indie: we all good Rio: mhmm Rio: him doing his part on him Rio: we all doing ours Rio: she's cute then, yeah? Indie: o you aint seen Indie: my bad Indie: u wanna? Rio: nah not yet, like it weren't explicitly stated but Rio: we know she don't want me near either Indie: i got you Indie: ill bring her to you mama Indie: my girls can meet Rio: Are you sure? Rio: idk if she letting her out of her sight like that yet Indie: its chill man Indie: if step ma be startin i got the other to back me Rio: We'll sort that Saturday yeah Rio: can't be giving her the cribs exclusive or the estate agent will be coming at me with catchment areas fr Indie: 😂😂😂 Indie: boo how we celebratin Indie: mckenna aint here thats dry Indie: boy earned his place Rio: I know 😕 Rio: we go out and do it again when he is Rio: we keep it lowkey for now, get some food 'forehand 'cos know you ravenous Rio: then if we fucking with it we can get something extra that we gon' need Indie: truuuuuuu Indie: yeah girl this is beast Indie: im so about it Rio: It's a new block so if we get it we can be in there like, straight away Rio: no one has to move out, it ain't trashed Rio: 😍 Indie: safe Indie: can i roll out the school gates now cos ☁ 9 mood Indie: floating like Rio: I'm omw to pick you but lemme call 'em and you can roll out and meet me somewhere else 'cos I'm still like 15mins away Indie: 😍😍😍😍 Indie: I'll be boardin & 🚬 catch me wen Rio: 👍 Indie: here i be thinkin my day was bare decent cos a lad chirpsin me in the science lab Indie: naaaaaah bitch Rio: Ooh Rio: 'bout it tho Rio: made School worth attending Indie: innit he just rolled up Indie: new boy vibes Rio: 😍 Rio: literally never happened when i was here so rude Rio: known everyone from day 1, blessin' n curse Rio: gimme deets as they come in tho Indie: ikr but its bare long in the year to be criss and showin face 1st time Indie: suspect Rio: wys Rio: he a 30 spy pretending to be a kid orr Indie: idk Indie: but if he a fed he looking fresh on it Rio: 😂 Rio: Mystery, love that Rio: only one way to find out Indie: but like Indie: can i? Rio: Why not? Indie: u kno Rio: Yeah Rio: Take everything at your pace, however that be Rio: this is just chatting we talking about, you good Indie: yeah i can trust innit Indie: bills is right not all lads be like Rio: yeah, if he get it twisted off a convo then he the thirsty cringe one Rio: give it a shot Indie: he so lush lookin tho 😍😍😍 i been knew i said this afore but actual Indie: 👼🏿 Rio: so 'bout that Rio: defs why you wanted to bounce tho Rio: not want me 👀 like the nosy ma I is 😉 Indie: nah dont want him spying you cos you 🔥😍👑 Rio: 😏 gas up your old woman Rio: never gon' say no Indie: you kno its the mood of the century Indie: mckenna beggin for you still Rio: Hope so Rio: need that rent boy Indie: can always shot the 💍 baby Indie: 💎💎💸💸💸💸 Rio: 😭 Rio: Baby no Indie: jam babe i got jokes Indie: we playin Rio: I can't Rio: if he bounce I gonna just wear it forever Rio: awkward for him, soz Indie: 😂😂😂 Indie: he too cuffed to run now Rio: Thanks Ann Summer Indie: i aint never been there Indie: soz bout it Indie: sure she a real one Rio: it's a bit retro these days but you know Rio: not missing much babe Indie: 👌👌 Indie: all lube & lace yeah? Rio: 😂 in a word Indie: no catch me rollin up then i aint need none Rio: okay babe Rio: lemme know if you need anything though, I got you Indie: you wild Indie: what you think i need ma? Rio: well idk Rio: not gonna give you ideas you ain't have but s'a whole world beyond ann and her rabbit Indie: 😂😂😂 Indie: you always tryna get me riding batteries Rio: i am not 😂 make me sound like such a wrongen Rio: tryna make sure u know what u want Indie: we been knew i dont Indie: going for those wronguns myself Rio: gotta explore babygirl Indie: 😒🤔 Rio: Not now, like Rio: we busy bitches Indie: catch me on the street bein indecent hold up Rio: 😏 behave Rio: got mark on your name as is Indie: what you sayin bout Rio: that police always after you without that madness Indie: keepin things fresh for the jakes and the rollers least Indie: they welcome Rio: miss me with that underage bait gurl 😏 Indie: 👌👌👌👌 Indie: 👵 Rio: 😡 cheeky bitch Indie: 💋 Indie: big love baby Rio: I see u Rio: get in 'fore I give you a love tap, like Indie: keep it peaceful Indie: ✌✌ Rio: 💋

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darkshreaders · 7 years

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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.

#bee movie script #gizoogle #ITS SO WHITE ITS NOT EVEN FUNNY!

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interstellar-ideas-blog · 8 years

Text

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.

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.

Maydizzle dawwwwg! Maydizzle dawwwwg! Bee goin down!

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 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.

#bee #beemovie #bee movie #meme #memes #funny #talk #lmao #lol

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