All language subtitles for Leprechaun.5.In.The.Hood.2000.1080p.BluRay.x265-RARBG

Death to he who sets
a leprechaun free.

Steal his gold,
it will corrupt your soul, you see.

For many a moon, the legend has grown.

Death toll increases, solution unknown.

Beware the evil wanderer
in search of his loot.

Lest you suffer the rap of his golden flute.

Flee while you can. The future's not good.

For no one is safe from a lep in the hood.

This map you bought was bullshit.

Man, it gotta be down here somewhere.

Do you see any gold, fool?

The burger's probably still good.

The burger's probably good, huh?

- Hey! Wait! Wait!
- What you talking about, man?

What the fuck?

Holy shit.

You midget Midas motherfucker.

Yo, Slug, look at this shit.

Oh, shit.

Whoo!

That's it. It's all here, baby.

That's all I want, right here.

Oh, yeah.

You collect the rest of this stuff, man.

Now we're moving on up to the East Side.

Yeah, that's it. That's all I needed.

Huh?

Ugh!

Ah! Free at last, free at last.
Thank God almighty, free at last!

God damn!

Oh! Oh!

Yeah, come on, come on.

Come on. I'll knock your...

Stealing me gold's a sure way to grow old.

Now me little room will become your tomb.

Got your ass!

Whoo!

Motown, here I come.

Oh, shit!

Oh, man.

Damn. What the hell happened here?

What the fuck y'all done did to the stage?

Too much ammonia, not enough nitrogen.

So what up with the gig, home school?
We on the bill or what?

The bill? Man, don't worry about the bill.
Y'all gonna get that.

This is our shot out, man.

If we win this contest, we gonna be going
to the Vegas Hip-Hop Café, man.

We're talking video promo,
publishing rights, record deals, all that shit.

Man, only record deal y'all getting
is with the LAPD.

And if y'all get your shit right,
I might give you another audition.

Now get the fuck out of here.

Shit. I almost get my ass
blown to bits by a virgin.

Shut up, fool.

I should have never told your big head ass
I was a virgin.

Hey dawg, I know you ain't know
nothing about no pussy, man,

but I thought you knew what you was doing
with that nitrogen trimesteride.

Man, that's nitrogen triiodide, fool! Triiodide!

Man, that's an iodine-ammonia compound.

Fool, you gonna wind up in a compound.

The hell with it, all right? We fucked up.

See, Stray? You're thinking
with a spirit of failure again, man.

You really do need
to hook up some Tony Robbins.

That big, white, goofy motherfucker
always talking about,

"If a tree fall in the bathroom,
take time to smell the forests..."

No, man, that ain't right.

See, our unconscious beliefs
control our behavior.

Only through daily positive,
positive affirmation can we overcome, man.

Yeah? Well, affirmate this, motherfuckers.

If we don't get this equipment fixed,
we ain't winning no contest,

we ain't going to no Vegas
and we ain't ever leaving Compton!

The guy said we could audition again
though, right?

Butch! What it take to get our shit fixed?

What it take to get this shit fixed?
A whole lot of money.

See? We fucked.

You just got to think positive.

Jimi Hendrix. The real Jimi Hendrix.

Boy, where did you get this guitar?

It was my Uncle Junior's.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, he got it from Jimi Hendrix.

Yeah, that's right,
when they used to play together.

- Your Uncle Junior used to play with Jimi?
- Mmm-hmm.

At Psychadela-Palooza in 1971, there it is.

Yeah, that's right, that's right.

- That's Jimi's guitar.
- Right.

Psychadela-Palooza?

- I never heard of that one before.
- So?

Wait a minute, '71? Didn't Jimi die in 1970?

No, no, no, Dee, that was Paul McCartney.

So, what you give us
for this piece of music history, Jackie?

I'll give you about five seconds
to get up out of my shop.

Come in here,
bullshitting with this piece of crap.

Hey man, ain't nobody bullshitting you.

Stray Bullet.

Boy, you ain't no gangsta.

And Postmaster P!
"Postmaster"? What is that shit?

You ain't never been in the military.

No, it's Postmaster P because I deliver
a positive message, man. That's all.

- Positive message?
- Yeah.

Punk-ass is more like it!

And Butch.

Boy, you need to get
yourself some pussy

before you blow off your dick
fucking around with all them chemicals.

Now you all get on up out of my shop.
Come on, this ain't no charity.

Now how much you give us for it, Chow?

This Jimi signature for real?

Man, who else you know
sign his name like that?

I look stupid?
Everybody know Jimi died in 1970!

You try bullshit Chow? You get the fuck out.

Oh, damn, Chow. Come on, man.

Hey. Don't touch, don't touch!

You leave Chow store. Go on.

Hip and hop your black ass home.

Go, go, go!

What are we supposed to do now, huh?
Rob somebody?

No, man, we ain't robbing nobody.

Hey, there go Mack Daddy Onassis
right there.

Man, why do they call him
Onassis, man?

- He don't look Greek to me.
- He was a pimp, man.

Back in the day, Mack Daddy owned asses.

See, now he got
his little hip-hop thing going.

Yeah, gangsta hip-hop.

Oh, man. Bitches and ho's
ain't all my man knows!

If it ain't the Milli Vanilli of Compton rap.

Heard you guys
are sampling Chipmunk tracks now.

No. The machine broke, man.
That ain't no Chipmunk track.

Yo, we got some new shit, man.

It's hot, man. You should hear it.

What's in it for me?

- What's in it for you?
- Moolah.

Hell, you could be repping us, man.

Yo, after we win that contest in Vegas, man,

we gonna be the hottest act around. Word.

Get in. Better not be wasting my time.

Oh, shit.

It's not much but it's not the worst.

You guys seem hungry.
I'm sure I could do something with you.

- We're gonna have to change some things.
- Like what?

Like this bullshit, all right?

I ain't with that
"Save the fucking hood" bullshit,

"Treat your girl right."
That shit is whack, all right?

This label, we rap about Uzis,
blowing motherfucker's heads off,

you know what I'm saying?
Smack your bitch up.

Shoot-your-motherfucking-homeboy-
in-the-face type shit, all right?

Yeah.

But, Mack Daddy,
I mean, that's not what we do, man.

I mean, we're trying to send out
a positive message.

Yeah, I mean...
'Cause, you know what I'm saying,

really, this shit is selling like...

What?

Man, he wanna change everything.

- Hey, you wanna be large?
- Yeah.

All right, well then,
you gotta do what he say.

So, you wanna change everything we did?

Hell, who gives a shit?
I mean, if we're large?

Stupid. Stupid.

Hey, you. You. Hey, you!
Get the fuck away from that! Is that yours?

Stop touching shit.
Go over there with your fucking friends.

You fucking up. Watch this fucking kid.

Hey, you. You listen to me.

You don't wanna fuck with me, okay?

I hope you had sex last night,

'cause I'm gonna come over there
and cut off your dick,

then I'm gonna feed it to my pit,

then I'm gonna burn the shit

when it comes out of
my goddamn dog's ass. You hear me?

Don't fuck with me, bitch!

What are you guys gonna do?

Yo, Mack Daddy, I don't know, man.

You don't know. Get the fuck out of here.

- Hold on, Mack. Look...
- Get the fuck out of here!

Mack, look, let me just talk to my boy
real quick, he's tripping like...

Look, you motherfuckers are wasting my time.

I got chumps lined up around the block
trying to be down

with this label, okay?

You get no second fucking chance!
Get the fuck out.

Please, Mack, look. Let me talk to him.
We wanna do this. You understand...

What's the matter with you, kid?
Are you deaf?

Or you just dumb like your mom,

so I got to come over there
and bitch-smack you like I used to do her?

- All right, let me tell you something, man.
- Check yourself, kid.

Don't even fuck around.

Just get out of here before I get you and
your motherfucking homeboys fucked up.

This is real, here, kid.
Hey, get these fucking losers out.

Man, fuck him! See, I ain't no loser!

Man, this shit broker than we is, man.

Unless one of y'all big-head niggers
win the lotto tomorrow,

we can forget about the contest
and going to Las Vegas.

Now you talking, motherfucker!

Yo, the lotto!

Hey, the lotto's hanging around
that yard jockey's neck at Mack's.

Yo, I've been thinking. Check.

Everybody know Mack
be out partying every night, right?

We bust in there, we grab the gold
neckpiece off that yard jockey he got.

What, huh?

We just gonna break into Mack's, huh?

We gonna bust in there
and just steal his shit, right?

"Stick 'em up, motherfucker! Mack, give me
your shit."

Yo, I'm serious, goddamn it.

Yo, yo. That shit got to be hot.

We take that shit, we pawn that shit,
and get some new gear, what?

Stray, we can't do that, man.

He ain't gonna report that stolen.
That shit got to be hot.

Stray, if we do that, man,
we ain't no better than Mack is.

Okay, so it's okay to play your little
bullshit scam on Jackie Dee and Chow

but you're too high and mighty
when it come down to the real deal, huh?

Look, man, that was different,
and you know it.

How you think that motherfucker
got where he is?

Yo, he's done worser shit than us,
keeping us brothers down,

controlling who get out and who don't.

It's time somebody took something back,
homie, took some action!

Kind of like Robin Hood.

Instead, we gonna be robbing in the hood.

Only with Uzis and AK's, baby.

We're talking about guns, now, too?

You tell me, Post, how else we gonna do it?

Fuck that, man. I'll see y'all on Judge Judy.

We meet at Mckenzie Park, 6:30.

We're just playing the cards we dealt, man.

Like Mack said,
"Ain't nothing but a hip-hop thing."

Business in the hood.

- You ain't scared?
- Hell, no, I ain't scared.

- Ready to do this?
- Yeah, I'm ready to do this thing.

- Let's do this.
- Yeah.

- My nigger, man.
- I love you, man.

I love you, man.

- Shit. Let's go to Vegas.
- Word. Let's do this, homie.

- Shit.
- Yeah.

Who the fuck is that?

- It's Post, man.
- Post?

So what's the deal?
We gonna do this shit, or what?

My nigger!

Yeah!

- Let's do this. I love you, friend.
- Yeah. Look at this, yo! Ha-ha!

Let's get money, baby.

- Yeah, baby. Yeah.
- Yeah!

Hey, Post, look in that desk right there.

Oh, shit! Yo, Post!

Clear. We going hot.

What the fuck...

Oh, shit!

Oh, shit.
You done killed that motherfucker!

Yo, get the gold off that motherfucker, man.

Come on, yo.

Unhand me gold, you thieving hoods.

You got more loot than Tiger Woods.

- What the fuck is that?
- I don't know.

Chucky on crack! Shoot that motherfucker!

Come on, y'all, come on.

Oh, shit. Oh, shit.

- Drive, man.
- Let's blow, yo.

Drive.

- Huh?

Come hither, me hand.
Come here.

As together we will shake them with fear.

A lot of time has come and passed.

But still, I see, you're a big, fat arse.

Goddamn phone.

This is Mack. I'm at the Parrot.

Bring your ass down here
and bring some fucking guns.

Big shit. Ugly shit. Machine guns and shit.
It's going down.

This shit is real. Come, now!

Get the hell out of here.

Cool out, man.

Shit. Calm down.

You gotta do something.

Nigger, get yourself, okay?

That's what you need, you need chronic.

Easy, bro.

You need to relax. Cool out.

Smoke a joint.

Yeah.

Hmm. Curious aroma.

Hmm.

Interesting blend.

"Interesting," bullshit.
That's the bomb, right there.

"The bomb?"

Ah.

The bomb.

Hmm. A friend with weed is a friend indeed.

But a friend with gold is the best, I'm told.

- Knock, knock.
- Who's there?

- Gold.
- Gold, who?

Goldfinger.

Now find me gold in record time

or you'll suffer a bloody, hideous crime.

I'm gonna kill that little green motherfucker.

Look at my fucking finger!
I'm gonna kill his fucking ass!

Hey!

Goddamn! You little ugly motherfucker.

On the ghost of Jack Sprat,
you must be tripping!

Motherfucker!

Ah.

- What's that?
- What's that? It's rap.

Rap?

Rap, as in, "I'm gonna take this

"and wrap it around
your scrawny, little, ugly ass!"

All right. This is my prime gear.

Well, this better
be the best audio equipment

you've got in this sorry motherfucker.

Oh, come on, look at it. You see what it is.

All right? Hey, come on, look.

So what's up?
How much for all of this?

I'll tell you what I'm gonna do.

I'll give you all this gear
for everything you got in that bag.

No. He and my boy, we need gear,
we need operating funds.

All right. You're driving
a hard bargain there, young blood.

I'll tell you what.

I'll give you all this gear and $500.

- Six.
- Five-twenty-five.

- Five-seventy-five.
- Five-fifty.

Deal.

- Let's go.
- That's what I'm talking about, fine.

- Hey, what about my warranty?
- Warranty? Boy, you don't get no warranty.

You're lucky you don't get a warrant
for your arrest.

What? What, man?

Are we done or what?

Yeah, yeah.

Yeah, pack that shit up, man. We'll take it.

Yeah. You like that, huh? Smell that.

Back up, motherfucker,
before I smack the shit out of you.

All right, now, Chow,
we need some party supplies, man.

We wanna celebrate. We wanna party.

Like the big dawgs we is.

You strike rich.

Hell, yeah, we strike it rich, motherfucker.
What you think?

I told you we would.

Time to get me some poontang,
you know what I'm saying?

You mean you get down and jiggy
with bitches and hoes?

That's right, Chow.

What? You big time funky
hip-hop rappers now?

- You know, just about.
- What it look like?

Man, we're going to Vegas.
We're about to win a contest, man.

You do rap video yet?

You do video, Chow dance. Chow dance.

No. No, Chow. I don't think
we're gonna be having you in our video,

you know what I'm saying? But...

Chow know many dances.

Chow do the funky peasant.

Chow get down hard with his bad self.

Shake his nasty groove-thing.

Chow no fake the funk. Uh-uh!

Chow keep it real.

Chow have the music in me.

Oh.

What?

We done here or what?

Yeah, yeah.

Hey, Chow.

Uh, bring that shit out, man.

No dead shit, man.

- Chow one nasty mother.
- That's right. You nasty.

In a matter of time, the flute will be mine.

The party's over
for them little stealing motherfuckers.

I'm gonna kill them all.

Then, I got something for that
little green piece of shit.

Fuck! They got the flute.

Okay, we gotta get that back
or our party's over. Fuck!

What are you doing just standing there?

Go get with them motherfuckers.

What do you know?

They dropped something.

Little bastards are gonna be in for more shit
than they ever dreamed.

Whoa.

Kind of scared me there, boy.

Well, I ain't buying no Halloween costumes,

so you better trick-or-treat
your little ass on out of here.

I'm here to claim me golden shillings.

Now, give them back
or there might be killings.

Little boy, don't make me laugh.
You out here trying to rob Jackie Dee?

What gang you belong to? The Shrimps?

Jackie see?

Jackie Dee. Come here, my big, strong man.

Baby, you look... You look beautiful.

It's been too long, Jackie. It's been too long.

- But I don't understand.
- You don't have to. Don't.

I just want you to love me, baby.

Oh, baby, I've missed you so bad.

Ooh, Jackie, I want you to just love me.

Oh, God, baby.

- Jackie, I've missed you so much. Oh, Jackie.
- I've missed you so bad. I can't believe it.

Oh, baby.

Yes, Jackie.

- Yes.
- Baby, I missed you so bad.

- Missed you so bad. Oh, baby.
- Oh, Jackie.

I missed you so bad.

- I missed you so bad.
- Oh, Jackie.

Oh, Jackie.

Love me, Jackie!
Love me, Jackie!

Post...

- Post.
- Big Post.

What the hell? You shook the spot, man.

This shit ain't right, y'all.

We partying with money
we robbed from a motherfucker we killed.

I killed.

Yo, Post, man, it ain't like
we planned that shit at Mack's.

That's how... I mean, shit just got hectic,
you know what I'm saying?

I don't know, man,

but the bottom line is that it's over.

You know what I'm saying?
And things will be different now, I swear.

All right, man.

What's up, little bitches?

Y'all nigger's asses is mine.

You gonna shoot me with my own gun?
Steal my shit?

Bust up my motherfucking spot?

Man, I'm sorry, man.

I'm sorry, man! I didn't even wanna go in.

Sorry, man.

Y'all motherfuckers can die right here
or jump. I really don't give a fuck,

but you are gonna tell me
one goddamn thing.

- Where's my fucking flute?
- What flute you talking about, man?

We ain't got no flute, man.

Don't fucking play with me!
Where's the goddamn flute?

We don't have no flute, Mack.
We don't have no flute.

You motherfuckers think I'm bullshitting.

We don't have it. We don't have it!

I'll blow their motherfucking heads off.

- Jump! Jump! Let's go. Let's go.
- Shit! My fucking finger!

Kill those motherfuckers!

Now go on, y'all! Go!

Let's get out of here, man.

Let's get out of here!

Fuck, fuck. You all believe that shit?

Man, that motherfucking ground
was sparking and shit, man!

I fucked my knee up, man.

Man, Mack Daddy,
his ghost came back to get our ass, man.

Oh, man. Shut up, man.

How's somebody as smart as you
gonna be believing in ghosts and shit?

Man, I told you before, Stray.

It be the physical,
then it be the metaphysical.

That was some
meta-fucking-physical shit back there, man!

Yeah, well, I bet them bullets
he was shooting was some physical shit.

Yo, who gives a fuck?
Physical, metaphysical, who cares?

Mack Daddy after our asses, y'all.

And he wants this.

Man, why ain't you give him
that shit back, Post?

Nigger, I was scared. Shit.

Fuck, man, what are we gonna do?

Man, what can we do? Lay low.

All right. We just gotta get to the audition,
win that motherfucker,

and be in Vegas for the big payoff.

Yeah. We can keep our gear with us,
just go from place to place,

stay with somebody different every night.

Who the fuck we gonna stay with?
Mack know everybody in this fucking town.

So, what is it I can do for you, Stray Bullet,

Postmaster P and Butch?

Oh, you know, we're gonna be going
on the road soon,

so you know, just getting practice
going from place to place.

Right, and we thought we could stay at
your place tonight, and then we'd move on.

But first, we're gonna need
to set up our equipment,

you know, Fontaine,
so we can have rehearsal, though.

Get our groove on.

Ah! You know I like to get my groove on.
I love me some company.

I also love me some cash.

So come on, motherfucker.
You know the drill. Hand it over.

Ain't no scrubs up in here.

You know, every little bit helps,
so Miss Fontaine get her little operation.

Well, now, come on. Go get your stuff.
Go put it out back and let me hear you jam.

Who's there?

Counting ill-gotten gains
will cause you suffering and pain.

Who's there?

- Turn that shit off!
- Yo, cut that shit off, man.

What's the matter with you?
People trying to sleep here.

Fucking assholes.

That's what's wrong with your big head ass.

Y'all don't understand good-ass music.

Yeah! Yeah, yeah, the hell with you!

Hey!

Motherfucker.

- Man, fuck this, man.
- Wait, wait! Where are you going?

You ain't gonna do nothing?
You ain't gonna defend my honor?

What's he talking about, honor?

Come back here, motherfuckers!
You sissy motherfuckers.

We really fucking suck.

Shit.

Play some more.

Oh, handy.

Yeah, baby! Yeah!

- Hey. Did we rock that shit?
- We rocked that shit.

- Did we rock that shit?
- Fuck that shit.

Homie, they couldn't get enough of us,
homie.

- I could have got me some pussy.

Hey, straight to Vegas, baby.

Cha-ching, cha-ching, cha-ching.

- Yeah, with Mack Daddy on our ass.
- Oh, fuck him, homie.

By the time he find us,
we already gonna be large.

He ain't gonna stop until he gets this.

Shit. Give it to him.

We can't.

Shit. You boys was too, too fine tonight.

Good night, boys.

- Who he was talking to?
- He was talking to your ass.

- He was talking to you.
- Hey, homie, he was talking to Post.

- Fuck that.
- You wanna hit that, Post?

Um...

Couldn't find your way out, baby, or...

Or you just didn't wanna leave?

I didn't come to play with fruit.
I only seek me magic flute.

Well, that's such a musical way of putting it.

Mmm.

You just the right size, too,
for Miss Fontaine.

I hope you ain't a screamer,
'cause, you know, I got me some company.

So, get your ass up in there.
Don't make a peep. Come on, now.

You crazy, dawg.

Man, why you think Mack Daddy
want it back so bad?

Nigger, that ain't no magic flute. My ass.

What the fuck was that?

Yo, that's probably just Fontaine
having a nightmare or something.

Mr. Funny Boy got company.

Hey, man, I'm gonna be sick, man.

Shit. That little green
motherfucker's out there, man.

Oh, shit!

Dude, he ain't dead.

Meta-fucking-physical, man.

- What are we gonna do?
- I don't know, man.

What the fuck is we gonna do, y'all?

Flute. Where's me flute?

See, the mix of a douche,

and a jelly is very, very, very combustible.

Combustibility plus electricity

equals flammability.

Damn, you smart, man. He smart.

Post, go over there and cut that light on
when he come in here. All right.

And Stray,

go over there and get the little
motherfucker in here, man.

All right.

- Come on, man.
- All right.

Yo, shorty! You ain't even as big as my dick.

Now, Post, now!

- I don't get it. This piece of shit?
- Y'all still don't get it?

Man, we fucking with
the spiritual world, man.

We done unleashed a whole supernatural
universal whack-pack.

Man, sanctuary's against that shit.

That's what we need right now,
is some sanctuary.

We need to go
to Reverend Hanson's church.

Yeah. Yeah, we could do that.

We slide him some benjamins,
we could stay there for the night.

Hey, man, I gotta go home
to see my grandma, man,

make sure she's all right.

- Post, is that you?

Yeah, it's me, Grandma.
I lost my keys.

Oh, all right.

Hey, Grandma.

Boy, where you been?
I needed somebody to massage my bunions.

I just had some stuff to do
with Stray and Butch, that's all.

Them lazy-ass hood boys?
Now, you know they ain't good for nothing.

- Oh, hello, Stray. How's your mama?
- She's good, Mrs. Smith.

Mmm-hmm.

She still sneaking around with Jackie Dee?

Huh?

Ah!

- That you, Butch?
- Yes, ma'am.

- Boy, is you still a virgin?
- Yes, ma'am.

What's wrong with you, son?

Big old strapping boy like you?
You got bad teeth or something?

- No, ma'am.
- Hmm.

There's some hot soup over there
on the stove with plenty of hot sauce,

just like y'all like it.

Why motherfuckers want this so bad?

I'm telling you, man. It's magical.

Man, bullshit.

Watch this. Cover your ears up.

Butch.

Huh?

Sanctuary, man. We need sanctuary. Quick.

The Lord, I say, is good.

For he has delivered unto me
the worst of Satan's sinners.

Praise God.

Reverend Hanson,
we need sanctuary in your sanctuary, man.

Yeah, yeah. I mean,
we trying to hide from Mack Daddy.

- He about to go on a killing spree.
- Yeah, and we the spree he trying to kill.

So, you're saying you need a place
to slither away and hide out?

Yeah, just for one day, then we out of here.

Let me see.
Hotel, motel rates will run you about...

We give you $50, and we square.

That's nice, real nice.
But there's one more thing.

What?

Our musical entertainment
for this morning got canceled.

Seems the lead singer
got his ass arrested again.

Now, I know you boys are musically-inclined

and I suspect you might
be available for one song.

It's so good to see a full house
in the Lord's house.

- Amen.
- Amen.

- Amen, brother.
- Oh, yes.

As we pass the collection plate,

- I want you to remember one thing.
- Come on.

- The Lord, I say, the Lord sees everything.
- Oh, yes.

The Lord don't like cheap.

So I want you to dig deep into your pockets,
now, and show your love.

But first, about our musical
entertainment for today.

- Yes.
- Yes.

We have three young lads coming to you
straight from the south side of Jerusalem.

- I said, the south side of Jerusalem.

I want you to make these boys
feel welcome today.

Now, bring them on down,
and show some love.

- Come on, now.

Amen!

The Lord works in mysterious ways,
but he works.

Amen, man.

- The Lord is good.
- Right. Yes, he is. All the time.

Jesus loves me, this I know

All right, son.

If he don't, I'll find a ho

His mama's name was...

Mary Jo

And his disciples was...

Some bad mo-fos

That's fine, fellas, that's fine.

Now, the Lord has heard many
a strange tongue in his house,

and we have learnt
not to judge what we see,

- but to the content and the fiber of a young...

Yo, that's Coolio.

Yeah.

- What?

Three bad boys.

Give it up! Give it up! Come on, now.

Hey, Tom, come on.

Damn.

- You believe me now?

No wonder Mack Daddy was so pissed off.

- This his fortune, right here.
- That's right.

You thinking what I'm thinking?

That's the key, man.

The key to everything we ever wanted.

Man, that's the key to our goddamn coffin.

Y'all must be forgetting
Mack Daddy gonna kill our ass, man,

if he don't get that shit back.

Man, we done went in his smash house,
fucked his shit up.

What, you think he'll let us live,
'cause we what? Gave him his flute back?

Oh, shit, man. We about to find out.

Oh, shit.

I'm sure the motherfuckers is up there.

Okay.

We don't go down without a fight.

- Right?
- Right.

- Right?
- Right.

- Right?
- Right.

Shit.

Oh, shit.

Come on. He's gonna kill...

- Oh, man.
- Oh, shit.

- Get in there!
- Freeze, you little stealing motherfucker!

Whoa...

Finally got your ass.
Now, where's my goddamn flute?

Okay. I got your flute.
I don't have it on me, but I know where it is.

Stop fucking with me!
Give me the goddamn flute now!

I can get the flute for you, man, but if
you kill me then you can't have it, man.

What are you gonna do
about Mr. Leprechaun?

The flute belong to him, anyway.

Fuck that little motherfucker.
I should've killed him a long time ago.

Fuck him.

You need to figure out
what you're going to do about him

because he's right behind your ass.

I'm supposed to fall for that shit?

That's the oldest trick in the book.
You gotta come better than that, nigger.

Blow this motherfucker's head off.

With pleasure.

Did somebody say "blow"?

Hallelujah.

Shit.

You were saying?

I'll get back with you niggers later.

All right, damn it,
what the hell is going on...

Get your fat ass in there.

Get away!

Now, what the hell do you boys
think y'all doing?

Man, we got the whole world after our ass.

- The whole world?
- Only the bad motherfuckers.

Why don't you give
the little bastard back his flute, Post,

and let's get the fuck up out of here, man?

Man, we dealing with some evil
supernatural shit here, man.

I got an idea.

All kidding aside, it's time to die.

Damn.

What kind of Voodoo shit you boys into?

Now look, you can stop
all that goddamn yelling.

This is the Lord's house!

Ain't nobody in here afraid of your ass.

I don't hear nothing.

Let's try it again.

Shit, man, it's all hooked up right, man.
We can't sample it.

It won't record.

Fuck it. Then we gotta use the real deal.

Either way, we're going to Vegas
for the big money.

All right. You know what I'm saying?
Straight up. Let's get this show on the road.

- Let's do this shit.
- Vegas?

What the fuck y'all talking about Vegas?

Ain't nobody going nowhere
with that thing locked up in my office.

Hey, man, you know what?
You just keep that lock safe.

You expect me to baby-sit
the goddamn devil, huh?

Him is up there sitting on
all my operating funds.

Look, Reverend,
we about to go hit the jackpot, all right?

When we get back,
we'll split the pot with you.

Then we'll figure out
what to do with that fucking devil.

You just make sure his ass don't get out.

Let's get out of here, man.

Hey, yo, what about Mack Daddy, man?

What about Mack Daddy?

Young blood, how you know about my gun?

Man, who don't know about your gun?

From the depths of the nether world,
I summon you, me zombie fly girls.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, man.

Sweet Jesus.

Another sinner.

Come, my child.

Come and let me lay hands
upon your sinful creature.

And pass on to you
the blessings of the Lord.

Do you have the gift of healing, Reverend?

Oh, yes, my child.

Indeed, I do.

But, my specialty

is the gift of tongues.

I know the evil serpent beast
when I see him.

Now, get thee hence
from the house of the Lord.

- Now, be gone from the...

Praise thee, good Reverend.
Now, give up me golden flute.

Yeah. Hell, yeah!

- That's what I'm talking about.
- Yeah.

Berry Grady, vice president of A&R
for Dope Discs Productions.

- The biggest hip-hop label in history.
- Guilty as charged, homeboy.

- Hope you're ready for the finals.
- The finals?

You made it. You are going to Vegas.

All right. We ain't in it but to win it,
you know what I'm saying?

Your music's got a real special quality.
And the kids are down with it.

Yo, we just keeping it real. You know
what I'm saying? This shit is selling.

You perform like this in Vegas, like you
did tonight,

you're a stone bet to win.

Oh, shit!

Tuesday night, 8:00 p.m., be at LAX.
Congratulations, fellas.

- Thank you, Mr. Grady.
- You the fan, Mr. Grady.

- We going to Vegas.

Yeah, baby, we going to Vegas!

We going to Vegas! We going to Vegas!

Cha-ching, cha-ching, cha-ching.

Hey, party in here?

Oh, shit. Hell, yeah!

If y'all partying, this is it!

The crowd were impressed,
they loved every note.

But how will you sound
from the bottom of me moat?

- Now, give me the flute.
- Hell, no!

Uncomfortable, lad? I'm sorry.

Is this better?

I'll give you a choice.
Me patience is drained.

Give me the flute
or I paint the wall with his brains.

Okay, okay, okay, okay.

Okay, Post, give it up, man.

Give him the goddamn flute, Post.

Post, give him the motherfucking flute!

Now, let him go.

As they say, lad, "So near and yet so far."

Now live with the thought.
You were almost a star.

Ladies.

Fuck you.

No, Post, no.

No!

Man, we gotta go, man.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

We was gonna make the climb
with the positive shit.

That was a long time ago.

So, it's over?

Stray died for nothing?

Some fucking stinking corpse in a shitty car
to be found by some fucking wino?

Man, it's over, man. What we gonna do?

I don't know.

It's over, Post, man.

Go home, man.

Go home. Go home.

Does she meet with your approval?

Hmm.

She's the bomb.

Who's that?

Oh!

You must be one of Post's little friends.

You must be wanting
some of that food I made.

Ooh.

Child.

You gots the arthritis real bad.

Your little hands is all knotted up.

You need you some good food
in your stomach.

That's what you need.

Now, go on, and go wash up.

Go on, go on and go
wash them filthy little hands,

and let some of that
hot water run down over them.

Now, I'm gonna feed you, on account of
your little hands is all knotted up

and you can't hold these here utensils.

Good, ain't it?

Oh, shit.

Oh, shit.

Stray...

Yo, Post, we going to Vegas, baby!
Gonna be large!

Stray...

Yo, Post, it's all right. It's me.

Butch, what's up, man?

I don't want you going by yourself, man.

Going where?

To get the leprechaun.
To get that flute back.

- How do you know that's where I'm going?
- Ain't you?

Yeah, I guess I am.

Man, what the hell is that
around your damn head?

I got a plan, man.

Yo, Post, I was reading earlier, man.

Leprechauns is rumored
to be the dark elves of Satan.

Each with his own pot of gold.

They so small, peeps are always
trying to capture them.

The gold is the ransom for their freedom.

Anybody fucking with their shit

is hunted down and killed
in a most brutal manner.

Yeah, no shit.

So, what's your plan?

- This.
- Weed?

Man, this ain't just weed, Post.

This weed got clovers in it. 4-leaf clovers.

What?

According to this book right here,

a leprechaun can lose
his powers temporarily

if he's hit with the essence
of a 4-leaf clover.

Well, how are we supposed
to find the leprechaun?

I was sneaking around down
the Golden Parrot, man.

The leprechaun got
a goddamn room upstairs.

He got them zombie hoes
hypnotizing people.

Taking them up to him every night.

- Word? What for?
- I don't know,

but they don't be coming back
downstairs after they go up.

I think he fucking them to death.

We gotta get in there,
get him stoned off these clovers,

grab the flute, and run like hell
while he's still tripping.

That's a good plan, Post.

Hell, no. How are we supposed
to get close to his ass?

Only one way, bro.

Remember, Mack Daddy's still out there.

He gonna be coming after our ass, too.

Fuck Mack Daddy.

Ain't nothing but a hip-hop thing.

Business in the hood.

Let's do this.

- Lep in the hood.
- Come to do no good.

- Lep in the hood.
- Come to do no good.

- What happened?
- Hey, tell me where the leprechaun is.

It's okay. Just tell me where he is,
and I'll let you go.

Damn, Post. You look good, for real.

Fuck you, nigger. You ready for this shit?

I'm ready for this shit, man. Let's do it.

Mr. Leprechaun?

Mr. Leprechaun?

Yo, Mr. Leprechaun!

Got you some new, fresh, ho meat

and some special weed.

Come closer, come closer,
my fresh young lass.

Let me take a look at you, before I...
Oh! Tap your ass.

Sit down, sit down, my healthy filly.

You're about to meet a club named Billy.

They say in the hood, "You're never down

"unless you've the courage to go downtown."

Come over here.

- On to Vegas, baby.
- All the way for Stray, man.

Butch?

Not in a dress, Post.

You're gonna be okay, man.

Is there pussy in heaven, Post?

Okay, little girls, come on out!

You can't hide. It's going down.

Come on out, bitches.
Mack Daddy wants his flute.

What's up, sexy?

Man. Must say, you fine.

Are you finished playing?
Give me the goddamn flute.

Fuck you, motherfucker.

Oh, fuck me?

Yeah, you look real tough.
You got a gun and everything,

but you ain't about to kill shit.

Plus, you're forgetting about
the little motherfucker upstairs.

And you know, there's only one way
to deal with him, and that's me.

I got the one thing
that can put that leprechaun on ice forever.

So, what you gonna do, tough guy?
You gonna try to kill me,

or are we gonna work together
and kill this motherfucker?

'Cause you ain't no motherfucking gangsta.

I'm supposed to trust you now?

I wouldn't advise you to trust me.

I know that would be the worst thing
you could do in your life.

But right now, we got no options.

And you really ain't got no options.

You ain't no motherfucking gangsta.

Get that fucking gun out of my face.
You ain't about to kill nothing, little bitch.

Cross-dressing impostor.

For a foe of mine, you've done quite well.

Now, I'll take me flute and send you to Hell.

If this is to be Post's last stand,

you'll have to take this flute
from me cold, dead hand.

I'll take it from you, homie, you'll see,

'cause you know the Lep is the real O.G.

What are you gonna do about Mack Daddy?

Behind me?

A valiant try and right on cue,
but if I fall for that, I'm as stupid as you.

Mack Daddy ain't dying today.

Motherfucker.

Ladies and gentlemen,
please welcome Postmaster P!

I taught him everything he knows.

Oh, yeah.

Do it, girls.

Come on, now. Come on!