All language subtitles for [SubtitleTools.com] Legends.Of.Chamberlain.Heights.S01E02.Child.Please.1080p.WEB-DL.AAC2.0.H.264-ViSUM_track3_[eng]

- I got one for you, Jamal.

If you could smash any chick,

knowing you'd get a STD, who would you stick?

- That's a tough one, Milk.

Hmm, probably Amber Rose.

- You sure about that, my nig?

You really rollin' with Wiz Khalifa's sloppies?

- All that ass? I'll take the finger like Kanye.

- I hope you don't lick your finger.

- You can hate on a thicky all you want.

- I knew you was a finger-in-the-booty-ass bitch.

You nasty, boo.

- Head's up. Massa coming.

- Shoot that, Randy.

- Way to use the glass!

- Man, fuck y'all. Bring me a towel, bitch.

- You sure you don't want a tampon?

- At least we finally got our first

high school game coming up.

Our first step to being legends.

- Yup, all the beezies finna jock us

when they see us rockin' our jerseys, my nigs.

Aah! - We told you, Milk.

Until your white ass proves you got some black in you,

that word is on the banned substance list.

Got it, my nig? - I told you, I'm Creole.

- Man, I'm tired of all this practice.

My body's a well-oiled machine.

- I feel you, my dude.

We talkin' about practice.

Not a game. Practice.

- Come on, y'all, focus up.

Coach B gonna yell at us.

- God damn, you scary, Grover.

- Yeah, homey.

- What in the hell you think you're doing?

Get your asses off the floor.

You know better than that, Grover.

Your brother Montrel would be ashamed

that you two dropped out of the same cooch.

And, Jamal, you're only here to boost the team's GPA.

And you're failing at that.

And white boy, you're only here

because your stepdad bought us the jerseys, motherfucker.

- Breath smell like he been eatin' a dookie taco.

- What?

- Yo, Randy, good practice, bro.

- Skerrt! Uh, did I give you permission

to talk to me, dog nuts?

When I played with your bro,

if I talked out of turn,

I'd get a thumb shoved up my dookie shoot.

- Bet you talked out of turn all the time.

- I'ma start calling you "Mon-taint,"

'cause you ain't Montrel

and you look like a taint.

Punk-ass fresh fish.

- Damn right, Mumblemouth.

Got 'eem.

- There you motherfuckers are.

I need to talk to you little niglets

about failing my health class.

If you don't get your shit together fast,

you motherfuckers will be suspended

from the motherfucking team, guys.

- What you mean, suspended?

Basketball the only reason we come to school.

- Yeah, come on, Coach Bundy.

Help some Black Lives Matter.

- Milk, you're white.

God helped you out, motherfucker.

- If I can't wear my jersey to school,

I'ma go white boy and shoot this bitch up.

- Damn, Milk, you ain't got no chill.

- Yeah, you already know I ain't got no chill, homey.

- Ain't no need for violence.

- 12 inches. Next question.

- Hallelujah, bitch.

Nigga, I feel blessed.

- Grover, how could you...

and not ask me?

- Yo, Grove, you gotta stop thirsting for Randy's boo.

You ain't even on her radar.

- Not yet. But you know Cindy gonna be

jockin' me once we legends.

Just watch.

- Oh! all: Ooh!

Hey, how do my nuts taste?

- He should've walked away.

- Nice try, skeet scrub.

Now get to the back of the bus with the rest of the shit crew.

- Class, settle the fuck down.

Now as a part of our "Scared Celibate" curriculum,

I will be partnering you up to raise a goddamn baby.

- What you mean, raise a baby?

Can't we just go to Planned Parenthood?

I got a coupon!

- How am I supposed to go league if I got daddy responsibilities?

- Oh, shut the fuck up!

I present to you the Totbot 3000.

Now for the next week, you gotta pretend

this robot is a motherfucking baby.

- Now it's time to pair you bastards up.

Milk, you with Shamal.

- Man, I gotta boos with this wank-ass...

Aight, I'ma be cool 'cause you my boy's sister,

but I gotta tell it like it is.

I ain't doin' 'nathen.

I'm keepin' it real, like Grover's dad.

- That's fine, as long as we're together.

- Jamal, I'm putting you with Medina.

- Damn, Medina.

Can a ledge get some breathing room?

You like a meat sweater.

- Don't get coy with me, motherfucker.

We together, so you better get used to

me gettin' up inside you.

- Cindy, I think it'd be good for you

to be paired up with...Grover.

- Oh, word?

- Come on, Coach.

You know Cindy and I belong together.

She's my lady.

- Nice try, motherfucker,

but we've got our first game this week.

We don't need you sticking your energy in the wrong place.

So your partner is LaDante.

We progressive like a motherfucker.

- Brandy, you gonna be my wife for life.

On Oakland.

- No!

- I was thinking we treat this more like a side family.

You take care of the baby,

and I'll slide through on nights and weekends.

- If you eat with your family,

I'll buy you lunch.

- Oh, okay.

One of these, one of those.

Aight, but let's go grub somewhere on the low low.

We don't need all these squares in our circle.

- I know a romantic spot.

More tater tots, motherfucker!

I'm eating for two... and the baby.

- You heard the lady.

Run the meatloaf, bitch.

- Look, Randy, I take this parenting shit serious.

This my tenth year doing this project at Duncan.

I expect you to be a good mommy

and visit this little nigga early and often.

- Y-you got it, LaDante.

Whatever you need.

- And if you don't fulfill your duties as my play wife,

that ass is mine.

Feel me?

I'll hold the baby.

You hold my belt loop, boo.

- Mmm.

- Come on, little LeBronya,

stop cockblocking on Daddy.

- Here, give her to me.

It's obvious you have no idea what you're doing.

There, there, sweetie.

Mommy has you.

- I guess you got the touch.

You should try touching these...nuts.

- Boy, please. You know I'm with Randy.

And I am not looking to downgrade.

- You ain't downgrading.

You're investing early in a sure thing.

And I'ma prove it to you,

if you let me take you out.

- Well, be a good baby daddy,

help me ace this class, and...we'll see.

- Girl, you about to get a A and a meal at Golden Corral.

- And now, your starting lineup...

- Your boy, Montrel Cummings.

Fuck that.

Well, look at you, trying to be all grown and shit.

- Just trying to make sure I pass this class

so I can stay on the squad.

- Yo, what you doing?

- Which one of you lazy negroes ate my last Munchable?

Oh, it's like that, huh?

Nobody got nothin' to say?

I buy the groceries, I paid for the couch,

I even paid for the cable so the white man can distract you

from the real issues with this mindless basketball game,

and all I ask is you don't eat my Munchables.

- Man, why you trippin', little bro?

You don't like crackers, anyway.

- Oh, we being funny?

- Man, just relax.

Soon as I get my NCAA reparations

from the homey Ed O'Bannon's lawsuit,

I'll buy you Munchables, Brunchables, and Dinnables.

- Fool, you play intramurals at a junior college.

The only check you getting is a reality check,

you broke-ass negro.

- I got buckets, though, nigga.

- Whatever. I gotta go punch in.

Apparently me and Mom are the only people in this house

putting in work. Deuces.

Stay black.

[knock on the door.

- Cheer practice just ended, Grover.

I hope you don't mind me showing up.

- Oh, okay.

I ain't know we was expecting company.

I'll be right back.

What's good, girl?

I'm Montrel, local hoops legend.

Ha-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch.

- Come on, 'Trel. This is my baby momma.

- Baby momma? Man, the only thing

getting pregnant around here

is your sock, Crunchy.

- Nasty.

Anyway, how did everything go with the baby?

Did she cry much?

- Yeah, but I fed her, burped her,

changed her diaper, and sang her some of that

new Taylor Swift until she stopped.

- You really hitting them high notes like that, Grover?

- You already know, boo.

Anything for our baby.

- You're really taking this serious, Grover.

I like that.

Mm. Later, new booty.

- She want my pipe, guaranteed.

- Oh.

There we go.

- Hey, Mom, you gotta take care of this mark-ass baby

if we finna pass this class.

- Of course, Milky.

Has Mommy ever let you down?

- Yeah, you have,

when you married that lame Uncle Joey.

- How many times have I told you?

My name is Dave.

- Well, you look like that square from "Full House,"

so you Uncle Joey to me, buster.

Now step out my kitchen.

- Milton, don't make me pull out the mortgage paperwork

to clarify who owns this house.

- See how white folk always be referring to paperwork and shit?

- Come on, Milk, we're in this together.

- I already been done told you, Shamal.

That baby ain't mine.

- Milky, don't talk to her like that.

Why don't I help you

with the baby, Shamal?

- Well, I guess so,

if that's the way Milk's gonna be.

- Cool, I'm about to go make some stomach pancakes

right quick. See about me.

- I can't even come up with no lies.

Jamal love the kids.

- You a great daddy, Jamal.

And I'ma take care of all your needs and things.

- That's cool, Medina.

But you gotsta be gone.

- You ain't gonna invite me inside to meet your parents?

- You trippin', boo. It won't be as fun

if we allow our relationship to

venture into the human dimension.

We gotta keep our shit spiritual.

- You better not be trying to play me with all that talk.

I know how niggas do.

- Go on now, boo.

You finna find out about me soon enough.

Ya heard?

- I been holding that in all day.

- Ahh, look who woke up.

- You know, LaDante, it's only one class, man.

We--we don't have to spend 24 hours together.

- Shut your ass up, wifey.

I made eggs.

You want patties, links,

or sausage?

- I-I should probably just get home.

- Then it's links, nigga.

- All right, all right, settle down.

Now, when you have a baby,

you need motherfucking insurance.

That's why you gotta enroll these little bastards

in Robamacare.

- Robamacare?

Come on, Coach, they're just robots.

- Did I fucking ask you?

One of the utmost concerns you'll have as a father, Randy,

is deciding upon the health care options

that you'd like to provide for your goddamn child!

- Watch your tone, Coach.

She with me now.

- Okay, okay, no disrespect.

Now, apparently these motherfucking robot babies

can get sick like real motherfucking babies.

So I'll be passing out these kits

for y'all to do the vaccinations your goddamn selves.

- I don't want to do vaccinations, Milk.

Jenny McCarthy says they're linked to autism.

- Aye, Jenny McCarthy's the smartest bitch in Hollywood.

Fuck Robamacare.

- We need to talk.

- I know. I'm happy we doing this too.

- What we gonna do with the baby tonight during the game?

- Can't you just let it chill in the girls' locker room...

or your car?

- What?

You're not leaving our child in no locker.

- No, I was just playin', baby.

You know I'll take care of it.

- All right, Grover, I trust you.

You better not screw this up

and mess up my streak of straight A's.

- This should do the trick.

- What's all that noise for?

- The baby's sick, Milk.

Looks like measles or something like that.

- Better stuff a sock in that little mark's mouth.

Yo, Mom, guess what?

You watchin' Grover's baby for the game tonight too.

- Oh, would love to.

Shamal and I can make it a party.

- That sounds like a great idea, Mrs. Milk.

We should have a party for all the babies in class.

- What do we look like, Brangelina?

No more kids!

- Why you frontin', Uncle Joey?

Always stepping on the gators of some pimpin'.

- Look, man, I'm just sayin'.

There were no black people on "The Flintstones,"

and there were definitely no black people on "The Jetsons."

We have no past and we have no future.

We do not exist.

Turn the heat down and let that simmer for a minute.

- Oh, it's simmering, my man.

Um, excuse me.

I was wondering. Do you have "that"?

- Depends. Do you have that cash?

Another satisfied devil.

- Yo, Malik, I need you to do me a favor

and watch the baby for a few.

My first game is tonight.

- You kiddin', right?

You know I'm only eight years old.

You should be watching me.

- Come on, little bro.

I ain't got no other options.

- Sounds like a YP, bro.

I told you, you wasn't ready to be a man like me.

Now, if you don't mind,

I got a corner to manage.

You bad for business.

- I hate robots.

A Roomba took my mom's job.

- Yo, 'Trel, I got a favor to ask.

I need you to watch my baby while I'm at the game.

- Hmm, what does Uncle 'Trel get in return?

- What you want? - How about 50 bucks?

- 50 bucks? Montrel, you know

I ain't got that kind of dough on me.

I'll give you anything else. Just name it.

- Hmm.

Let me get your social.

- What? - Sometimes Montrel has to

become someone other than Montrel.

Duncan, Duncan, we're the best.

Let's go, Blackies, DHS.

- Work that black D, baby!

- Our first high school basketball game.

We about to get our nuts.

- Yeah, I only missed, like, three lay-ups in warm-ups,

so I'm ready to go.

- How much y'all think you finna drop tonight?

- Numbers don't mean nothing.

I just need a couple of highlights on Hoopsmixtape.

- I gotta have at least 16 points,

since Montrel dropped 15 in his debut.

- Yeah, that dude was a legend.

- Nah, you too young to puff on this dohja.

I guess one hit won't hurt the little niglet.

Just don't tell yo dad.

I don't know what it is,

but something's tellin' me,

we ain't finna get no burn.

- Yo, as long as we don't get in,

our stats can't get messed up.

- Yeah, but let's be real.

Everyone at school gonna think we some benchwarmers.

- Hey, ref!

You better start calling some fouls

for my wife, or I'ma see your ass in the parking lot.

- Damn, LaDante taking this parenting shit serious.

Hey, where yo baby at, Grover?

- I left him with Montrel.

- Say what, my nig?

- Aye, Grove, you do realize

you off the team if you kill yo baby, right?

- Shit, I'm out of rollin' paper.

- Hey, man, how you turn this thing off?

Maybe you just overheated.

Man, I'm so fucked up.

- Oh, no, no. Oh, man.

- Montrel, what did you do to my baby?

I don't know.

I was just ripping fat bong hits out of his ass,

and then he started crying like a little bitch.

So I started shaking him like I'm doing now.

- Gimme that.

Oh, damn.

Cindy thought I looked sexy in my jersey.

Wait a minute.

She's coming over to see LeBronya.

I can't let her see our baby like this.

Montrel, you have to help me.

I got a hook-up that might help you out.

- Montrel, what's up, buddy boy?

- I got some technical nerd shit for you, Brazy B.

I wanted to see if you could take a look at

my little bro's baby.

- No problem, buddy boy.

What's the matter with this guy?

- I don't know.

It keeps shutting on and off and acting all fidgety.

- Oh, yeah, buddy boy.

This battery has liquid damage.

Mm. Tastes like Strawberry Brohito.

- Nah, don't look at me.

You know I don't drink that bitch-flavored bullshit.

- It looks like the baby has Power Down Syndrome.

- My baby has Power Down Syndrome?

I'm off the team now for sho.

- Oh, no, no, no, no, don't worry.

I can fix, buddy boy.

But, uh, it's gonna cost you about 300...plus tax.

- $300?

But what about my Robamacare?

- I don't know what to do.

If Coach sees this, you know I'm off the squad.

And if Cindy see it,

I ain't never gonna get my meat moist.

- At least your baby ain't looking like no Benjamin Button.

- I don't know what y'all complaining for.

You did it to yourselves.

Grover, you know you wasn't supposed to

leave your fate in the hands of Montrel.

And Milk, acting all uppity

with being an anti-vaxxer and all that.

- Oh, shit. Here comes Cindy.

- What's up, Grover? Where's my little munchkin?

- This is where we bounce.

- Come here, LeBronya.

- Uh...here you go.

- Ew, why does my baby look like Forest Whitaker?

- What are you talking about?

Our baby's always looked like Forest Whitaker.

Okay, I ain't gonna lie to you.

I let Montrel watch the baby,

and he may or may not have spilled flavored beer on her,

and may or may not have used her as a bong.

- Grover, that's the dumbest thing you could have done.

- What do you want me to do?

You needed to cheer, and I had a game to play.

- You mean, you had a game to watch.

If I fail this class, ooh,

I will never forgive you.

- Damn, homey, you ain't never gonna smash now.

Believe dat.

- Stupid baby. It's your fault

I ain't gonna get laid.

- Man, y'all some professional passengers.

Time for me to take the wheel.

- Man, that didn't do shit.

My baby still rustier than a motherfucker.

- I failed you, my nigs.

- I don't now what's wrong with my baby.

I think it's dying.

- Oh, Shamal.

Every woman loses a baby or two in her lifetime.

- I'm more upset that Milk doesn't care.

- Shamal, let me hold that mark right quick.

- Aye, yo, Mom,

bring me some of them hand sanitizers.

This baby chaffin' all over me.

What up, my dudes?

- Not a damn thing.

Got a Forest Whitaker baby,

lost my boo Cindy,

and once I fail this class,

I'm gonna get kicked off the team.

- Man, ever since we had to be responsible parents,

our lives have been suckin' some chicken dicks.

- Now I see why dudes in the league

don't hang out with they kids.

- Just get rid of him. You already failing.

- Aye, he's right.

Can I kick it?

- Yes, you can.

- Can I kick it?

- Yes, you can.

- Then I'm gone.

- Y'all would be some goddamn kickers.

I'm a quarterback, bitch. Tebow.

- Jamal! - Oh.

- What the hell you doin'?

all: Touchdown!

- No, no, no, no touchdown.

She didn't complete the process.

- Let's go to instant replay.

- Upon further review of the play...

Stands.

- What him say?

- I said, upon further review of the play...

Stands.

- We did it, yeah!

- Oh, no.

- What you mean, "Oh, no"?

Motherfucker, my baby.

Damn, damn, damn!

- I'm sorry, boo.

- Stop with the "boo" thing.

You ruined my streak of straight As.

So if you think we're gonna be boos,

you're as high as your brother.

Now I'm gonna have to go to that school

Lil' Romeo be rappin' about.

- The hell happened to your Totbots?

- They all dead, Coach.

- I'm at peace with it.

Our baby led a good life.

- Wait a minute. All your robots are dead?

Shit, that means I gotta teach summer school.

I was supposed to be going to Detroit.

Think, motherfucker.

You know what? I'm grading on a curve.

All y'all get A's.

Ha-ha, now get the fuck out my classroom.

- Yo, Cindy, can I holler right quick?

- What do you want, Grover?

- I just wanted to apologize again for killing our baby.

I promise it won't ever happen again.

Unless...you want it to.

- What? - Your body, your choice.

The point is, I'm not ready to be a daddy.

But I am ready to be your man.

Trust and believe.

- You ain't a legend.

Yet.

- The games are way more enjoyable with no kids.

- Yeah, that's why when we start beating real cakes,

we gotta strap up.

- Or just make sure our pull-out game is strong, ya dig?

Hold up. Massa comin'.

- You motherfuckers better stop all this jaw-jacking

and pay attention to the goddamn game.

I got a bad tooth, motherfuckers.