Original subtitles

Cierra, what's going on?

-The fog is coming. -Wait, wait.

-We gotta run. -Wait. Wait! What's the fog?

Why would I know what the fog is? Do I look like a fogologist to you?

'Cause you're a Virgo. You always be knowing some random shit.

Ashanti, when has a mysterious fog ever been good?

Has there ever in the history of everdom been a fog

that has cleared up your acne, picked you up from the airport,

or texted you when your man was in the club? No!

Let's go! Come on!

Don't act like I'm the one out here asking dumb questions, okay?

You see, what your problem is, you're not a good motivator, okay?

You know I don't respond well to negative reinforcement.

Maybe if you took a more amicable tone, I might--

Damn, I'm ashy.

Girl, you gotta do better.

This is just like that time you thought Danae's paper cut was a sinkhole.

...you think I'd be jealous?

Okay, okay. My turn. Never have I ever stolen Wet n Wild makeup

-from the drugstore. -Oh, please.

Robin, why would you say something you've actually done?

-Strategy. -Who strategizes Never Have I Ever?

-A winner, bitch! Ashley, your turn. -Okay.

Never have I ever stolen a boyfriend from my cousin Quinta.

-Wait, me "cousin Quinta"? -I told you that in confidence.

-"Strategy." -Sorry, Quinta. It was Dre.

Dre? Who cares? He had a Flintstone dick. It's fine.

W-what's--what's a Flintstone dick?

You have to use your feet to make it work.

Gabrielle, you go.

Okay. Uh, never have I ever... Done a walk of shame.

-You've never done a walk of shame? -I wasn't ashamed, okay?

-Quinta, go. -Okay.

Never have I ever sent love poetry to Cornel West

and gotten a cease and desist in return.

Man... This game is stupid.

Let's just watch something on TV.

We got "Beale Street," "Aladdin"... Black Panther and them other niggas...

Ooh, "Baby Boy"! I haven't seen this in ages.

No, we canceled that movie. Misogyny.

I'm not canceling anything with Tyrese in it.

I still fap to that Coca-Cola commercial.

Breathe, Roy. Just breathe.

This ain't the opening of Clementine's Rib Shack and Shoe Repair, Floyd!

This the Aphrodite Theater, jack!

And we getting paid in real money this time.

A man can only eat so many ribs.

Speak for yourself, Josephus.

Bring it in, fellas.

Let's hit it and git it.

And now, put your hands together for Claude and The Boppers

singing their family-friendly hit

that's taken America's sweet tooth by storm,

"Ice-Cream Shop."

Also, I'm 'bout to flip it and dip it.

Try to keep up.

One!

Two!

One, two!

One, two, three, four!

Girl, you're a stone-cold fox,

capable of...driving a truck

or giving birth to our babies--

or not.

Your uterus is yours to do with as you will.

Holy Jesus.

-That's it! -Come on, Claude.

-Stop! Stop! -Let's go!

Uh, we...

See, my job is not to supply the conspiracy theory.

It's to be patient enough to let the conspiracy theory supply me.

See--see--see, our black family unit is under threat.

Our men are unfocused and unproductive,

doing frivolous things like getting therapy and smiling.

Women are supposed to be the keepers of the home,

but today's sisters are trying to exist outside the role of wife and mother.

But if you're a wife or a mother, you don't belong outside.

Take your shoes off.

See--see, white people will have you believe

that our original sin is our existence,

but their original sin is putting raisins in food where it doesn't belong.

Jesus only ate his grandma's mac and cheese, and so do I.

They'll tell you a black man invented the traffic light,

but they won't tell you that he also invented

the colors yellow, red, and green.

But I'll tell you in my new, self-published book,

"I Hate My Green Eyes and Ham."

You have to ignore the empirical evidence that contradicts your beliefs!

Think about it! "Empirical."

"Empire." Free Jussie.

Free your mind. Free En Vogue.

Every morning, I wake up one hour early

to put on my Fenty highlighter before my man wakes up.

I'm exhausted, but I can't let bae see me with my bare face, you know?

I've never been barefaced in front of a man.

I'm afraid all the athletes I date wouldn't know what to do with a woman

who takes her cheekbones off every night.

Consider this.

Do they even appreciate that you put 'em on in the first place?

Moreover, is a partner who doesn't appreciate the cheek work

deserving of the cheek twerk?

I never thought of that, there. That's good.

Sydney, just sleep in.

Your face got this.

The baddest I feel is when my man worships

at the temple of my natural, flat face.

I wish I could have a flat face all the time.

-Girl, what? -Tina, let Mya finish.

Now, what's going on under that lace front of yours?

Well, sometimes I wish I was not a bad bitch all the time.

Like, sometimes I wish I was just... a okay bitch.

We don't use that type of language up in here, bitch.

It's just a lot of pressure!

Like, I wanna wear normal house slippers,

not three-inch-heel house shoes.

Ay, stop whining. Listen, being a bad bitch is an honor.

We didn't choose this life. This life chose us.

Sometimes I just wanna sit down for five minutes without wearing a waist trainer!

-Oh, this ho tryna take deep breaths? -Yes!

Breathe when you die, honey. Okay?

Bitches, please.

Now, Mya, can you tell us

where this incredibly fucked-up feeling is coming from?

Well, I saw this lady walking down the street without lashes on.

And she didn't seem burdened by the pressures of having bald eyes!

She seemed fine being a okay bitch.

How you know she was a okay bitch?

She could've been a bad bitch with alopecia.

-Ooh, I've seen those. -That's what it was.

No. She was an okay bitch. I could tell by her wedges.

Well, there's nothing wrong with being an okay bitch.

-What? -This bitch done lost her mind.

-As long as you're not a basic bitch. -Okay. She found it.

I just don't know how I'm supposed to feel safe

in the presence of a aspiring okay bitch.

Her attendance here undermines the whole notion of the Bad Bitch Support Group.

I'm not going nowhere. This is a support group.

Y'all supposed to be here to support me, and I don't feel supported right now.

What is happening with Subject Four?

She seems to have built up an immunity to the Foxycodone.

Double her dosage.

If women start rejecting impossible beauty standards,

we'll go out of business.

But, ma'am, i-it isn't safe.

She's already at All-Star Weekend levels.

I said... Double it!

-What was that? -What is that?

-Oh, my--what? -What's that?

-Is everything okay in there? -Yes. Keep going.

Must be some kickball bitches next door.

Oh, they must have on flat shoes.

Okay, let me get this straight.

So MJ, R. Kelly, Cosby... Canceled. But I need clarity on the particulars.

Like, yes, Mel Gibson is a racist asshole...

But I can still watch "Lethal Weapon" for Danny Glover, right?

And I fap to Danny Glover too, so...

It's like a school group project, okay?

If one person fucks up, everyone gets canceled.

Canceled for how long, though?

What about "Mike Tyson Mysteries"? If he did the time, the cartoon is fine.

The cartoon is not fine.

Okay, what if I'm trying to get into an empty house

but the family forgot to turn off the TV,

so when I get inside, "Naked Gun" is on but it's the scene with O.J.?

Well, the burglary is iffy, but O.J. on TV?

-Turn around and walk right out. -Wait a minute!

-Ashley has R. Kelly on her phone. -No.

Oh, "I Believe I Can Fly." Do you, now, Ashley?

-I believe you a lie. Delete. -No!

It was the Jessica Simpson cover.

-You should've just said it was R Kelly. -Okay. So we playing like that?

-Robin, where's your phone? -Oh, you think I'm dumb enough

to take your phone and not hide mine?

-Quinta's dumb enough. -Hey.

Is this a GIF of John Travolta looking confused in "Pulp Fiction"?

Weinstein produced that movie. Delete!

My GIF! Come on.

Ooh, she broke it.

-Bitch... You gon' die. -No, no, no, no, no.

-I'm gonna kill you. I'm gonna kill you! -Quinta! Quinta!

This is of the utmost importance to national security.

Are you sure you can handle it?

Oh, I-I-I'm not-- I work in IT. I'm not a spy.

It's me. I'm the agent. I'm Trinity. So yeah.

Trinity is incredible.

Her regular-looking face makes her nearly invisible in the field,

but around here, she's a real legend.

Sorry to interrupt. It's Trinity's birthday. Can you sign her card?

Uh, I'm sitting right here.

Well, you can sign it too.

Just drop it by my desk when you're done, okay?

Make sure not to tell Trinity.

Just tell me about the mission.

The syndicate's cover business is a record label

called We Do International Crimes Records, Pew Pew Pew.

No, it's pronounced...

We'll need you to gain access to the building, which isn't going to be easy.

Their security is tighter than Jada Pinkett's mom's abs.

Tight.

Last week, a top-level agent was at a place like that

and just walked right in. It was Agent...

-Trinity. -No, that's not it.

We need you to obtain a hard drive from Reynaldo Artiste's office.

You may know him as Larceny-O Hall.

He invented going "skrrt!" on records.

Oh, he also runs the international crime ring.

Reynaldo has a private security guard who's so off the grid,

the CIA has not been able to ascertain anything about him.

We've given him a code name: Invisible Man.

The only thing we do know: he's deadly.

He'll never even know I was there.

Oh, I know where I know you from.

You're my son's kindergarten teacher.

You know me from meeting me a minute ago, here, at the CIA.

No.

I'm in.

You ain't slick. I see you, Trinity.

Invisible Man is a woman? A black woman?

Do we know each other?

I've been watching you for a very long time.

I wouldn't do that if I were you.

Set off any of the sensors, and the room will fill with nerve gas.

You'll be dead in 30 seconds.

Good luck, sis.

Ugh, what are you supposed to be, like, my evil twin or something?

Don't flatter yourself.

I actually have a face shape that can carry off this haircut.

Do you, though?

You know I'm gonna have to kill you now, right?

Not if I kill you first.

Wow. You're good.

Yeah, I haven't had to fight like this in years.

The last time I fought an assassin,

he saw some chick with a long weave down the block, and he just...

Wandered away. Yeah.

Wait. Stop fighting.

Do you like working for Reynaldo?

I mean, we grew up together, and I really care about him.

Oh, honey. No matter how good you get at this,

-it's not gonna get him to notice you. -I know.

Look, I'm just here for a hard drive, okay? Give it to me,

Reynaldo goes down for this alone, and the CIA never has to hear about you.

I'll give you a five-minute head start to do what you do best: disappear.

-Top left drawer. -What?

Damn. She's good.

We're living in the Matrix.

See--see, truth tellers like myself have got to be fearless.

We have to be brave enough to stand up and say,

"We are all descended from the Asiatic black woman."

Her name was Ermaline.

See, I reject geometry.

It's just the ancient white man's way of trying to shape our world.

Think about it. A triangle is just the white body upside down.

It's top-heavy.

If a white woman stands accused of a crime, she definitely did it.

But if a black woman stands accused, she didn't do that shit.

And another time, I saw a sister holding a bloody knife,

standing over a dead body, yelling, "I merked this nigga!"

But as far as I'm concerned, on that day,

not nary a nigga was merked.

I'm Dr. Haddassah Olayinka Ali-Youngman, pre-PhD,

and this is my masterclass.

Although I reject the term "master"

because I will never be enslaved mentally, physically, nor spiritually,

metaphysically, biologically, specifically, pacifically,

Michael Ealy, Robert Ealey, none of the Lees...

Wow! She's here. She really had the nerve to show her face

like she didn't break up with me via the comments section of a Venmo transaction.

She act like she can't see me. Oh, that's what we doing?

-Drea, help me get on this table. -Oh, my God. Please don't do this.

I got eight exes in this corner alone, and you don't see me causin' a scene.

This is my shit.

Is she really gonna stand there like we not about to get back together

12 more times before we break up for good?

The audacity. The gall. The temerity.

You know what? She gonna do me dirty, I'ma take her to the car wash.

Is this nigga copying me?

-Are you even listening? I'm in crisis! -Shut up. You're in crisis?

-This bitch is biting! -Girl, who cares?

If I wanted to see drama, I would just watch a Tyler Perry comedy.

Oh, hell nah. I did not watch "Hotline Bling" 42 times

to be disrespected like this.

-I'm sorry, babe. -Okay, babe.

Let me just get down.

Rolling the dice? That's Drea's shit.

Drea! Drea! Wake up!

Girl, wake up! You not even out to your grams yet.

How I'ma explain you died at a lesbian party?

Girl, wake up. Don't be dead. Come on, Drea.

-You sure you're okay? -Man, I'm Gucci.

You think I'm tryna leave the turnup just 'cause I passed out in the alleyway

-under mysterious circumstances? -No.

This my shit!

-Why are you dancing like that? -Like what?

Like you not cutting the rug, like the rug is cutting you. Quit playing.

What's wrong with us?

That bitch literally stole our dance moves!

"Pulp Fiction." Weinstein produced that movie.

-Oh, my God! Don't-- Delete.

My GIF!

Ooh, she broke it.

-Bitch... You gon' die. -No, no, no, no, no.

I'm gonna kill you. I'm going to kill her! I'm gonna kill you!

When I get free of Gabrielle, you are mad dead.

-Girl, calm down. It's just a phone! -Yeah, it's not the end of the world.

Oh, right. It is.

My bad. That's on me.

If you dine on swine, you'll live to only be nine.

Everybody knows it.

I know fish is delicious, but so is family. Said the Donner Party.

What? Now I'm making cannibal jokes? I don't know.

You may know him as

Larceny-o...

Hall!

This class is not free, but I do accept EBT. No, I have more! Oh, shit.