Original subtitles

- We been sitting on this bench forever.

After the game, I'ma be spread-eagle in the tub,

soaking my cheeks in some Epsom salts.

- Shit, we finna go to the mall on a coochie safari

and get up on some numbers.

- All you gon' do is watch me hunt.

If you lucky, I'll let you scavenge on my leftovers.

- Man, how come you always claimi''

you more league than us?

- Who almost beat Cheryl Miller Jr.

in a game of Clydesdale?

Me. So fall back.

- Hold up. Hold up. Massa comin'.

- Good shot! - Great defense!

- Come on, Ref!

- I don't need your patronizing cheers, motherfuckers!

That's what these ugly-ass bitches

with the pom-poms is for.

- Hey, fellas, good job.

I was checking you out the whole game.

- Aye, slow your roll, homey.

We ain't with that Chris Bosh shit.

- No, no, no, it's not like that.

You ever heard of ML Carr?

- Oh, is that that new Benz?

- No, no, I'm talking about the basketball player.

Two-time world champion Boston Celtic,

played with Larry Bird, Dennis Johnson,

and Kevin McHale?

all: Wow! - Well, his son is my dad.

- Oh.

- Anyway, you guys have been invited to the ML Carr Jr. III

Elite Basketball Camp for Future Stars.

- I never heard of that camp. But it sound kinda boo-boo.

- Well, you aren't invited anyway.

These two are.

- Ohh, shit!

Who's league now, motherfucker?

- That's what you get, homey. Karmelo's a bitch.

- But I'm better than both these lames combined.

- Sorry, kid, I saw you in warm-ups.

This camp is for top prospects only.

- Damn.

- Yeah, sorry, kid, I guess you not a--

- Ooh, get out of here, nigga!

Take this dunk to the mouth. These nuts, nigga.

Tea bags all day.

Aye, what up, lil' bro? Where's Slim and Fat Shady at?

- Man, who gives a shit?

- You bitches in the middle of a catfight?

- Nah, man. I don't know.

Can I talk to you about somethin'?

- Nigga, we is talkin'.

- You ever have a situation when your crew get into some shit

and you're not a part of that shit

even though you better at that shit

but you try to act like you don't care and shit--

- Rocket launcher. Cross over.

Machine gun. Buckets!

- You know what? Never mind. It's your turn to cook dinner.

- Man, stall me out, cuz.

Don't you see me playin'

"Metta World Peace's Hoop or Die"?

- How 'bout this?

If I whup your ass, you gotta make the Hot Pockets for dinner.

- Bet.

But just so you know, once we get on this game,

we ain't come out the same fallopians, feel me?

- What?

- Yo' mama's vagina ain't no longer my mama's vagina.

Anyways, fuck all that.

Just get on them sticks, nigga, damn!

- This place is fancy.

Ooh, they even got welcome meatballs.

- And by the looks of things,

I'm easily the hardest dude in this camp.

What's up, Elbows?

We 'bout to dominate this bitch.

- Welcome to the ML Carr Jr. III

Elite Basketball Camp for Future Stars.

Give yourselves a hand for being invited.

- It's obvious this place is only for well-trained athletes.

- And Grover said we suck.

- I'ma suck on more of these balls.

- I'm finna serve these fools with a cherry on top.

You ready, J?

- Shit, ready for lunch.

They got a carve-your-own- prime-rib station.

- Why the hoops ain't down? And where them balls at?

- And now introducing former NBA World Champion,

the legend, the best benchwarmer the league has ever known,

the great Jack Haley... hologram.

- Yeah, well, all right, dude! Let's get hype!

Welcome, brethren.

Here you're gonna learn from the greats of the ole pine.

Playing time is for posers.

We can't all be starters, and with our help,

none of you will be.

But at this benchwarmers' camp--

- Benchwarmer camp? - I thought we were elite.

- Behind every Hall of Famer,

there's a benchwarmer yelling his heart out.

Enjoy the camp, gents.

And remember our motto:

No shots, no stress, no shine, no sweat!

Say it with me!

all: No shots, no stress, no shine, no sweat!

No shots, no stress, no shine, no sweat!

- Fuck you mean, no shine?

- No shine?

- Oh, yeah. -

- Take that! Yeah, take that, 'Trel.

Open your mouth. Open up wide. Let Grover in.

- Agent Orange, bitch! Game!

That's 12 wins in a row.

Now get in there and make my Hot Pocket, bitch!

And you better use the crispin' sleeve.

- It's the "Hoop or Die" Tournament.

Who has the skills?

'Cause 5 grand can pay the bills.

You know what I'd do with that money?

I'd quit my job at Best Buy, purchase a fur tuxedo,

and build a custom house for my Puerto Rican cock,

Vanessa II.

I just wanna whup your ass, Montrel,

but a nig could always use a Puerto Rican cock.

- The tournament features world-famous gamers

like token girl gamer Suzy Atari,

the crowd favorite, Fingah Tipz,

and the no-pussy-gettin' No Pussy Nippsy.

Contestants qualify at their local GameStoop.

- Man, all them motherfuckers are goin' down.

- Wait, you already qualified for the tournament?

- Can DJ Khaled go on a diet and still gain weight?

Them five stacks is mine.

- Not if I can help it.

I'm tired of living in your shadow.

- You must have got that contact high,

'cause you straight trippin'.

You gon' always be in my shadow. Now kick rocks!

This couch is for qualified "Hoop or Die-ers" only.

- That's all right, Andre Negro Dolla.

When I win, I won't need a couch,

'cause I'ma sit on yo' face.

- You sit on my face, and I'ma eat your ass alive.

- Wait. What? - Wait a minute. What?

- Yo, our Adderall sales are through the roof today!

Is it SAT season already?

- Naw, it's the "Hoop or Die" Tournament, my man.

It's the March Madness of video games.

- See, this is what I'm talking about.

We should be marching about the madness,

but the madness has us playing "Madden"

and marchin' about being mad but--

Man, you know what I'm talkin' about.

- I'm confused and stuff, ese.

- Look, all I'm sayin' is,

the boost in Adderall sales is just the tip of the iceberg.

This is an opportunity to crack these crackers over the head

and game these gamers out of their gaming money.

- Now, that's game, homes. - Two for $40.

- I mean $60.

- Damn, you giving me the tourist prices, player?

- Surge pricing, like Guber.

Look, player, you buy or you go!

- Hold up. Slow your roll.

I gotta check you first.

- LaDante? What are you doing here?

- My side hustle, fool. Now spread them legs.

I wanna make sure you're not packin'.

That's good right there. That's all you?

Mm. You need to wax.

I got a Brazilian that can take care of that for you.

Empty you out at the end too.

- Damn, Jared. Get off my footlong.

- You mean six-inch. - Whoa, whoa!

I'm just here to qualify.

- Next. Step up. Bring that ass.

- It's a long bench ride for those ass muscles.

God forbid there's a triple overtime.

So to keep them cheeks loose and from falling asleep,

you're gonna have to stretch 'em.

- Stretch your what? - Gluteus maximus.

- Hold up.

That's that Roman white boy with mad squabbles, right?

- No, no, no. This is serious.

In addition to being the new pussy,

the ass is the most important muscle to stretch

when riding the bench.

Let me tell you a little story.

I was there when benchwarmer and noted philanthropist

Donny LarMue picked up a wet penny

in his Jordache jeans using only his ass.

And you know why he was able to do that?

Huh? Do you know why, huh?

Do you know? Do you know?

Because he stretched his fucking glutes.

Now grab your butt cheeks. I said grab 'em!

Squeeze and move and squeeze and move.

And squeeze and move and squeeze and move.

I don't hear you!

Squeeze and move and squeeze and move.

- Dis nigga.

- Come on, Grove, get it together.

You can't lose to Benny Hana.

- Triangle, triangle, square, then double-tap circle.

- Yeah, now what's up? Now who wanna fade Grover?

- Cook that nigga!

- Oh, hell yeah!

Damn, LaDante, you got skills!

You think you can give me some more tips?

- Why the hell should I help you?

- I'm just trying to prove to Montrel

that I'm just as much of a man as he is.

- You need to prove you a man?

I can help you with your manhood.

Mmm, Herbal Essences. Yeah, I got yo' tip.

Meet me at my house tonight.

And wear something really cute.

Damn, you smell good.

- Hey, LaDante, um, this hand massage feels cool,

but what's it got to do with the tournament?

- First rule of training is shut the fuck up.

Your hands loose?

- Yeah, my G. They actually feel relaxed.

- Now let's work on that ass. - What?

- A little prison joke. Always kills on the yard.

- What's this for?

- Our first training session.

- Ugh.

- This is called "Wash the Draws."

Now get to it.

- How'd you get so good at "Hoop or Die" anyway?

- My cellmate Clark was a beast on them sticks.

He was nice with them fingers.

He could push all the right buttons.

He was good at video games too.

- Uh, LaDante, look, man, I'm scrubbing,

but I think whatever you spilled is in the fabric.

- Keep scrubbin', nigga, if you want to win.

Me and Clark about to go play "Call of Booty."

- You see, this is one of the most important skills

that you're gonna learn at this camp:

the art of towel waving.

- It's just waving a towel.

- "Just waving a towel" saved my grandfather's career.

- Man, this is lame and a shame.

We getting our tuchus kicked, Jack.

- You need to stop jiving.

We need to encourage these youngbloods

and raise their spirits.

We need to get Mr. Bird flyin'.

- Man, ain't nothing we can do from this here bench.

- Shit, hand me that towel.

I'm 'bout to get these white folks

to give us some energy, baby.

- I've never witnessed anything like this.

The crowd has come alive

and willed this team into a victory!

The MVP of this game is the towel!

- My grandfather was on the verge of retiring

when he pioneered this very towel wave

that gets white folks hyped.

This move, this move here, huh, this move right here,

it got him six additional years in the league,

and it kept us--

it kept us out of public--

public school, public housing, public transportation...

Sorry.

Towels up!

Now twist it around your hand and spin it like a helicopter!

Spin it. Spin it.

That's right. Spin it!

- All right, campers, I got a special treat for you today.

Give it up for two legends of the pine,

Mark Madsen and Cole Aldrich.

- Man, you can't be no legend riding the pine.

- You right. These scrubs are liquid dookie.

- Okay, guys, let's start with some questions.

- Yes, fat kid.

- What was the highlight of your career

that we never knew you had?

- Good question. Glad you asked.

Stealing the moment from Shaq Diesel

and "Nappy Fro" Kobe at the Championship Parade.

My dance skills are legendary.

- Man, this corny-ass cracker ain't got no rhythms.

- Oh, yeah. Me, me, me, me!

Do you guys eat at, like, the finest restaurants,

like, every night?

- Ooh, that's such a good question.

- Shit, my Gs, I usually eat at the crib,

unless I'm trying to get it in.

Then I'll take a chicken to Houston's.

- I know y'all scrubs and all. No offense.

But do y'all get any groupie love?

And if so, do they let y'all go raw?

- Great question.

You know, we don't come up

on floor-seat breezys like we'd like.

But we do be soaki'' in them cheap-seat chickens.

- Word, Mark, the groupie hos generally want the starters.

And with the invention of Google,

these greedy-ass tricks can now check your contracts.

Shit, the game's fucked up now, guys.

- So this is our future? I don't know, my nig.

- Man, fuck these lames.

I'd rather keep slangin' my nine in my blow-up doll

than some ole ratchet-ass balcony biatches.

Yo, you know what?

Tell all the bench warmers

to meet us back up here tonight.

We finna change the game.

-

- Super OG LaDante, you all good, big homey?

- It's the fourth anniversary

of the day my life partner got locked up.

How do you lock up a face like this?

How do you?

- I know you walking down memory lane and all that,

but the tournament is tomorrow.

- Clark!

Clark could cook!

- Hey, uh, big man,

I need a last-second training session, though.

How do I block missiles if I'm--

- You talkin' about a game. I'm talkin' about love.

You should go, Grover. - But--

- Go! Get the fuck outta here!

Clark!

- Thanks for gathering on such short notice.

- Check this out, y'all.

These camp counselors think we suck.

- Well, we do.

- I don't know about y'all, but I started playing basketball

to get a bunch of big brown booties pregnant.

- We can't get no groupies pregnant from the bench.

- That's right. So you know what I say?

I say we hoops!

- We hoops!

both: We hoops!

all: We hoops! We hoops! We hoops!

- Yo, Elbows, go to work, homey.

Like I said, we hoops.

- Game! What? Told y'all, busters.

- Great game, dudes. That was intense.

There's a reason why you ass-clowns

are at a benchwarmers' camp.

Now, whose bright idea was this?

Fine, all of you sit down.

- Naw, homey, we ain't sittin'.

- I said sit! - Hell no!

We'd rather die on our feet than live on our cheeks.

- None of us are sitting, Coach. We're never sitting again.

- Ain't nobody say all that.

- Fine, you fucking losers.

But just know, you ain't gettin' no refund.

I already cashed them checks, biatches!

- The only way we beat the house is to find someone

who's undervalued and overcome the odds.

- Who's the least likely to win, homes?

- This guy who hates cats. His name is No Pussy Nippsy.

- Oh, no, it's not about the cats.

It means he never stuck his thingy in a girl before.

- Ugh, why would anyone ever want to do that?

- Who knows?

But I ran the numbers,

and none of the last three champions

ever got any pussy.

Check the graph.

- That's how we're gonna get paid.

We puttin' all our money on No Pussy Nippsy.

- Will player Grover please report to your game station?

Grover. Player Grover.

- What the hell is yo' problem?

- Your training was some bullshit.

All I did was pop blackheads and wash dirty draws.

How is that gonna help me win the tournament?

Man, I might as well give up.

- Give up? You France now, le negro?

- No, I just--

- Then show me "Wash the Draws."

- Huh? - "Wash the Draws"!

Concentrate, Clark-- I mean Grover.

You play with your hands, but you win with your head.

Understand?

Better.

Now show me "Pop the Pimple."

Focus!

Now put all the techniques together.

Now you ready.

- Guess who got paroled, you big ole homo.

I'm finally home.

- Clark? Clark, is that you?

- Hey, where are you going with my trainer?

- Don't let this sweet Justin Bieber face fool you.

I will cut a motherfucker.

- Clark, where are we going, boo-boo?

- We're going home, baby. We're going home.

- Malik, we got a big problem, my man.

- No Pussy just got pussy, homes.

We bet everything on him. That means we both got screwed.

- It's like y'all don't know who Malik is.

This is AP Hustle 101. There's always a contingency.

Hey, Montrel, let me holler at you real quick.

- I'm glad they kicked us out. I'm ready to go home anyways.

This ain't no place for a real nig.

Aah!

- Grover's right. That do feel good.

Now say it again and emphasize the E-R.

- Who I look like, Boo Boo the foo', my nig?

Aah!

- You don't deserve this.

You guys really disappointed me.

- The feeling is mutual.

I mean, who disables

the soft-serve machine in the cafeteria?

- We ain't always finna be benchwarmers.

I gots real potentials.

- Uh, no, you don't. Four minutes a game, at best.

You're a privileged wannabe.

You'll end up managing a bad rap group or, worse,

writing for a black TV show on Comedy Central,

fucking losers.

- Eat a black dick!

- Here go one right here.

- Yeah, nigga, that's right,

we took all y'all Oriental shit.

We got Bruce Lee, Kimora Lee, Sara Lee,

and now we 'bout to take y'all video games.

- You know, you talkin' a lot of trash to be rolling dolo.

- Man, ain't nobody worried about being dolo,

you wide-faced bitch.

Ow! Oh!

I think I pulled all my ass muscles!

- Come on, 'Trel, stop messin' around.

This is my shot at finally beating you

and getting your respect.

- Sorry, lil bro-bro. Looks like we both assed out.

- Don't worry, 'Trel. Just rest up.

I'm finna represent for the family.

- Man, don't sweat that, Grove. I faked that shit.

- What?

- Man, Malik needed me to throw my next match, so, you know...

- And the Image Award goes to...

- Aye, I told you I wanted these in singles, nigga, damn!

- But if you won, you was gonna be playing me.

- Why I'ma play when I can get paid?

That's idiot.

- Damn, you the worst big brother in the world.

- Now, when I called you a bitch earlier, it was simply an idiom.

But, cuz, you really is a bitch.

- Man, you know what? It doesn't matter anyway.

- Now, hold up, Grove.

We all know there's no way you could ever

in your life whup my ass in anything.

But I can help you whup this other bitch, though.

All right, little bro,

now, if you gon' beat this bitch,

you gon' need my secret move.

- Let's go, Grove. - Yeah, Grover, you got this!

- Bust that breezy's ass. - Whoo, whoo, whoo, whoo!

- And in three, two, one.

Game time!

-

- Damn, little girl.

So sorry.

- Ha! Get 'em a body bag, Suzy!

- In yo' mouth!

- Bust that thang open! - Yeah, Grover, you my nig!

- Now hit her with that secret sauce.

- Man, my dick is so hard right now.

- Cook her, nigga!

So sorry.

- Aye, man. Bitch cold.

- So what was good with that elite basketball camp?

- Dem meatballs!

- Aw, man, we was way too league for that bullshit.

It was like playing with a bunch

of mark-ass benchwarmers.

- Aye, man.

Even though you got that ass spanked, I still respect you.

I would have given you my secret, secret move,

but I ain't no snitch, though.

- You know what 'Trel?

You ain't the smartest,

but you ain't such a bad brother after all.

- Oh, nigga, I know. That's why I got you this.

- Suzy gave you that?

- Naw, I robbed that ass. Now let's dip.

I think Suzy's management called one time.

We gotta bounce out this bitch.

- Squeeze and move and squeeze and move.

And squeeze and move and squeeze and move.

I don't hear you!

Squeeze and move and squeeze and move.

And squeeze and move and squeeze and move.

I don't hear you!