Original subtitles

Damn! Damn! Damn!!

I can't even break a board with that big, black blueberry's face on it!

And look at this!

Is it realy that important to have the whole black community on drugs?

Of course not. I could give a damn about the black community and its mama.

This is about Black Dynamite. He thinks he's so black and dynamite.

Without the black community, there is no need for a Black Dynamite.

Why don't you find another black that's not so dynamite to have

- an unhealthy obsession about? - Shut up! Now, give me an evil plan that

will destroy the black community, thus rendering that

brillo-headed Black Dynamite obsolete once and for all!

Well, congres did just pass a new domestic aid package, whose small

print takes all the money out of education, planned parenthood, and public

housing and puts it into subsidizing illegal drugs in the black community.

Henry, you sick mothafucka, this is why I love you.

With drugs so cheap, no blackie alive will be able to resist, and

soon, everyone will be dead, unproductive, and hopelessly hooked.

Hmm. Two wrongs don't make a right, but when

everything's too right, something's got to be wrong.

What I gonna do? Huh? Huh?

What I gonna do? Don't you shut that off and give me the bait!

- Freeze, Tasty Freeze! - Shit!

Tasty Freeze, how many times has Black Dynamite

talked to you about selling drugs in his comunity?

I think it was twice, Black Dynamite. See, there was

the first time you said not to, and then the second ti...

Well, Black Dynamite only talks with his mouth twice.

- The third time, he talks with his hands. - No, no, no, no, no, wait ...

- Ow! Stop! - If you want Black Dynamite's hand to stop,

you better tell him something good. Can you dig it?

What I was trying to say, before your hand so rudely interrupted me, is I ain't

selling drugs to the community no more! No, Black Dynamite, I swear to God!

I put it on all my hos! I'm selling drugs for the community.

I don't understand, and Black Dynamite don't like not understanding shit

even more than he don't like saying shit three times with his mouth.

Get his ass, Black Dynamite! These drug dealers are messin' up the community!

Since when have you complained about the

- drugs in the community, Basehead? - Since nobody will sell me none!

I can't get no base from nobody in this damn community!

- Spare me your shuck, and spare me your jive. - No, no. He's telling

the truth, Black Dynamite. Now, will you shut your fist up

for a minute and just let me show you, man? Please?

Fine. Let me back up my car so you ain't pinned to the wall no more.

And I don't know how it happened, Black Dynamite, but the moment you left the

community, it just got flooded with drugs. I mean good drugs.

Good, good, good drugs. I mean, this shit have you seeing unicorns and sasquatches,

but not the big sasquatches ... like, the little, tiny sasquatches.

- Basehead! - Well, anyway, Black Dynamite, these drugs are so cheap, it was

easy to turn a profit, and black people didn't even want to use them no more.

Speak for yourself! I'll take a high over a life of wealth any day.

Black Dynamite, the word spread so fast that soon, every white-collar whitey who wanted

some white was down here trying to score. Come to find out, they buy more

drugs than the black community. Everybody in the community became a drug dealer, and I mean

- everybody ... except Basehead, of course. - I got so desperate, I was 'bout

to move out of the black community just so I could come back in and get some drugs.

But I ain't have no car, 'cause I already sold it

for some base the second week I became a Basehead!

Okay, then. Tell me ... what's happening with all this

- newfound honky drug bread? - We cleaned up the streets,

Black Dynamite, with real soap. We buildin' libraries, and we openin' markets that fulfill the

Black man in america's long struggle to acquire fresh produce.

And it's all thanks to the white community's drug addiction.

I'm trying to see the downside of all this, but all I keep coming up with is a whole lot of ups.

Oh, damn! I'm gonna be late! All the hustlers are using this good drug money to sponsor

a black fair in the community this afternoon. Why don't you come check it out,

Black Dynamite? You too, Basehead. We could use you in the Basehead throw.

A Basehead throw?! What kind of person gonna take a Basehead

and throw him at a wall like he a damn dwarf or somethin'? Fuck you!

How much base you get for a Basehead throw? Like, you get, like, a pound

of base? 'Cause I could be thrown for a pound of base, no problem at all.

This can't be true. They should have killeach other by now!

Oh, man. This stuff is real, real, real good.

- Where did you get that? - The black community. Where else?

Everyone gets their coke from there now. They've got really good prices.

You fuckin' idiot! We made the drugs that cheap so they can kill themselves,

- not sell it back to us! - I'm sorry, Mr. President, but you and this

Black Dynamite shit has got me under a lot of stress.

Damn it, kiss. If drugs can't wipe out the black community, what can?

Oh, no reason to call there, Darlin'.

- I'm just gonna walk right in. - Elvis Aaron Presley, the King of rock 'n' roll?

- What are you doing here? - Mr. President, I heard there was a drug epidemic

in white America, and that thing made me madder than a premenstrual

mosquito in a mannequin factory. I said to myself, I said, "Elvis, you got to stop the

ghetto from selling their black drugs to the white american people."

So I hightailed out of Graceland faster than a cat can lick his own ass.

Send me into the black community, Tricky Dicky. I want to serve my country.

Mr. President, you're not going to let Elvis do this, are you?

- He'll get himself killed. - Exactly!

Elvis Aaron Presley, I knight you the undercover D.E.A. agent of the secret

"Operation Ghetto Blaster." I give you the complete authority to stop the black

community from poisoning the white community with their drugs, by any means

- necessary or unnecessary. - Thank you. Thank you very much.

Damn! Damn! Damn!!

James done died, Penny got burned by an iron, and

J.J. just got shot. Whoo! "Good times" is hilarious!

Honey Bee! Are you sure this perm is supposed to be in here so long?

- It feel like my hair done burnt off. - Uh-oh.

"Uh-oh"? There ain't supposed to be no "uh-oh" when you doin' my 'do!

Oh! What the ... ain't no ho gonna want to be my bottom bitch

- with my hair looking like this! - What ho is gonna

bottom-bitch for a fisher-price pimp like you in the firstplace, huh?

Oh! First, you gonna take my hair, now you gonna take my pimp juice?

It may be small, but I got a pimp hand, Honey Bee, and you 'bout to get

- bottom-bitch slapped! - Uh-huh.

- You want some of Honey Bee? - Come on.

- You want some of this? - Say something else.

- Say something else! - I'm tappin' out. I'm tappin' out!

Black Dynamite! You're home!

Hey, Black Dynamite!

- Who the fuck are you? - It's not funny!

It's me ... Cream Corn! Honey Bee ruined my hair, which ruined my game, which ruined my

- pimpin', which ruined my life, Black Dynamite! - You ain't got no life,

you Kojak, black Mr. Clean, bowling-ball-head, half-a-pimp-lookin'

- motherfucka. Get out my face! - All right, Honey Bee.

That's enough. There's only so many bald jokes a man can

take when his head is looking like a damn Tootsie roll pop.

- Now, no more fighting. - Fine. There won't be no fightin'.

- But I'm thinkin' 'bout pressin' full charges. - Now, y'all pull it together.

Let's go see what's going down at the community drug-free,

- drug-sponsored block fair. - I can't go nowhere with my

hair lookin' like this! Everybody gonna laugh at me, Black Dynamite!

I know looking like a bald, black Daddy Warbucks done got you down and filled

with sorrow, but like little Annie said, "that sun'll come out tomorrow."

What's in it for me? What's in it for me-e-e-e-e?!

Oh. Looks like we got some serious customers. Excuse me

while I attend to all their white drug-consumption needs, my dear chaps.

There's a new sheriff in town, baby, and his name is the King.

Now, I suggest you stop selling your black drugs to the white community and keep them in your

ghettos, where they belong, or you and your brothers are gonna be in a world of pain!

Hi, king. The name is Tasty Freeze. How 'bout if I give you a little

courtesy bag of smack so you and your hillbilly friends here can go get rehigh in your own

community somewhere and you can let us get back to enjoying our drug-free block fair?

Uh, what you say?

Now, get up against that there wall and spread your legs,

Tasty Freeze. We're tearin' this place apart. Lift the nuts and check the ass

of every last man, woman, and child until we confiscate all the damn drugs.

The President wants us to destroy everything that was gotten with ill gottens,

so start breakin', burnin', and generally messin' up shit real, real, real bad.

Damn, King! Why your hands so cold? Black Dynamite!

Elvis got tasty by the balls ... literally by the balls!

Elvis Presley, who you think you are, showing up in the black community,

- unannounced, frisking black ball sacs? - Looky here, now. I'm on a mission from the

President of these here white United States

to kick ass and bust heads to the black meat

until I stop your negro community from

spreading your black drugs across America,

Causing an epidemic. Now, this ain't about race.

The black community has had drugs of epidemic proportions

for years, and ain't nobody ever sent no Elvis Presley.

Well, if y'all had kept getting high on your own supply,

this wouldn't be happening right now. Now, drop your drawers, big fella,

'cause once I'm done searching these two balls, you and baldy-locks' nuts are next.

Elvis, now, don't let Tricky Dicky make you get your ass whupped.

Now, take off that badge and gun, and I won't be cruel. Keep it on, and it's back to my

- regular ass-kicking schedule. - Bring it on! Bring it on, baby!

If you got to pinch a loaf, hold your turd cutter tight,

'cause if you move your log shooter, you gonna miss the whole fight, 'cause Elvis is

about to get his ass whupped by Black Dynamite!

I don't think your boy know what he gettin' into.

Well, then, maybe Black Dynamite better smack some sense into him.

All right, Darkie Dynamite. You're in for a world of hurtin', baby. Whoo!

You had enough, Pelvis? You like that, Pelvis?

Actually, that's one of my nicknames.

Why you Hitting yourself? Huh? Why you hitting yourself?

- Man, look at you. - You... can't... do... this... to... me!

- I'm the king! - No, you were the king.

Now you're a fat, distorted parody of the cool and sexy

motherfucka you used to be. You sold out the people that gave you everything that made

you "you", and you got into bed with the man. Now, if that's not the least

rock-'n'-roll thing a shit could do, I don't know what is.

Maybe that's why... you... are... hitting... yourself.

Okay. All right. All right. I don't... want to... search... no... more... black... ball... sacs...

Black Dynamite. Oh, Black Dynamite and the black community in general, please!

Please forgive me, for I have sinned. Have mercy, if you will, on my soulless body.

Black Dynamite ain't falling for that old okie-doke.

No, this ain't no trick, Black Dynamite. Your thorough

ass-whuppin' has shown me the light and the dark. I realize now that I've been

nothing but an ignorant soul-stealing, fat-ass, redneck drug addict.

May all of the black ball sacs forgive me, Black Dynamite! Black-allelujah!

Okay, well, now that Black Dynamite has baptized you with your own fist,

you need to go spread the gospel to Tricky Dicky and the rest of them honkies that put you

- up to this. Now get the fuck off. - Now, hold on one second, Black Dynamite.

And I would like to stay and help mend what I have broken.

After all, I have built my career ripping off the black man's blues and his rhythms.

The least I can do is spend the rest of my days giving back, because the truth is...

♪ I'm all fucked up mm-hmm ♪

♪ Well, I'm a mess with no soul what's wrong with me? ♪

# A pill-popping slob, and I'm as fat as can be #

# I stole rock 'n' roll from the blacks, you see #

♪ I'm on drugs ♪

♪ I'm all fucked up, mm-hmm ♪

♪ hmm, yeah, yeah ♪

♪ My moves and my songs, yes, I copied 'em all ♪

♪ I'm hangin' all over Chuck Berry's balls ♪

♪ I wouldn't be shittin' if it wasn't for y'all ♪

♪ I'm on drugs ♪

♪ I'm all fucked up, mm-hmm ♪

♪ hmm, yeah, yeah. ♪

♪ It's clear to see that I was out of my mind ♪

♪ friskin' black ball sacs and tasty's behind ♪

♪ and then my savior, Black Dynamite ♪

♪ he whupped my ass, and he showed me the light. ♪

♪ He took my hand and made me smack myself ♪

♪ I lost control of my bowels, and the pills didn't help ♪

♪ I knew at that moment I'd had enough ♪

♪ I'm on drugs ♪

♪ I'm all fucked up, mm-hmm ♪

Step to the side, Roscoe, and let the king show you how it's done.

- What you got there, king? - This here, Roscoe, is what I like to call

my peanut butter, bacon, pancake batter, butter, and banana sandwich.

I know you didn't get that shit from no black folks. That is definitely not it.

I'd like to dedicate this sandwich to the black community. May its delicious, creamy

goodness be an inspiration to all the good works we will achieve together.

Long live the king! Long live the king!

Long live the king! Long live the king!

- Uh-oh. - Knock on wood!

Knock on wood! Damn it! I knew I should have knocked on wood!

Ooooh! They done killed Elvis Presley. Oh, I'm-a tell it!

And even if they didn't, I would almost say they did.

Don't you die on me! You got everything to live for! {*2*}

- Yeah, like a new little bald-headed bitch. - I'm tellin' you!

- I'm-a pimp-slap your bottom ass! - Come on, y'all.

We got bigger problems here than bald-headed bitches loving Elvis.

Having Elvis die in the black community gives Nixon a reason to drop the big one on us.

Oh-ho, no! Not the big one!

The big one is comin'! I tell you, not that! Unh-unh!

- What's the big one? - The N-bomb.

The N-bomb? You mean nuclear?

- Worse. - Neutron?

Worser than that. The real N-bomb ...

- the one you can't say on TV. - That really exists?

I thought that was some jive brothers was just kickin' at the barbershop.

Oh, no, Cream Corn. The N-bomb is real.

When I was working for the C.I.A., I seen it with my own eyes.

And if they drop it on us...

of course, Black Dynamite will survive, but the rest of y'all can kiss your

- black community asses goodbye. - All we need to do is make it look like Elvis

decided to quit being a cop and get his fat ass across the black community city lines

and back to Graceland. Then, it will look like he decided to die there.

Honey Bee, I was about to say "you took the words right out of my mouth,"

but I knew there was nothing in there. Now, that sounds

like a Black Dynamite plan if I ever said one. Now, let's go.

Kissinger, has that fat, pill-popping piece of shit died at the hands

- of those chocos yet? - No, Mr. President. He's still alive, sir.

What the...? How the hell did you get in here?

I'm a Basehead. I can get in anywhere. Watch this.

- Poof! - Okay. I get it. You're a magical negro.

I have three wishes, do I? The first wish ...

Nah, man. I'm a stereotypical basehead from the community,

and I'm here to tell you that Elvis Presley is dead

- and Black Dynamite is trying to cover it up. - Are you sure about this?

Yup, 'cause he done killed Elvis. Elvis is gone.

Kissinger, prepare the N-bomb. If I can prove that the black community

killed Elvis, I can finally get rid of Black Dynamite once and for all!

Come on, citizen Basehead. Lead me to the king's corpse.

But you know you better

put some base in these hands, or there's gonna be problems.

We made it outside the black community city limits.

We almost home free.

Oh, my goodness! Dead Elvis just let out a thunder dumpling!

Oh, excuse me. I think that might have been me, Cream Corn.

Say what?! Damn, woman.

It's not my fault. It was Elvis' peanut butter, bacon,

pancake batter, butter, and banana sandwiches. Yeah, I ate it.

Well, we need to find a gas station or somethin', Black Dynamite, 'cause that

wasn't no fart. That was a "shart". She shit that fart.

We can't, Cream Corn. We got to get dead Elvis back to

Graceland quick, fast, and in a hur...

oh, d... oh fuckin' damn, Honey Bee!

Man, them rednecks look like they ain't lynched a negro all day.

I wish I was pumpin' the gas so you could go over there and pay.

Look what you did to my damn head!

Well, screw you, too! You've always been jealous of my hair!

Come on, puny pimp! Come on, p-p-puny pimp!

You gon' get your ass whupped aga...

- What was that? - Now, the next one ain't goin' in the air.

We know that's the king's car, so where's the king?

There. You rednecks have your king.

Now, let us go so we can get him back to Graceland.

I don't know, bubba. The king looks a little strange to me.

You all tryin' to pull a fast one on us just 'cause we are

a bunch of dumbass rednecks, huh? If that's Elvis, prove it.

Hah! Whoo! Work it out, baby!

Get it! Unh!

- Bubba, I think these colored fellas done killed our king. - Get 'em!

Oh, hell no! Go, go, go, go, go!

They're commin'!

I got a 8675309! Some negroes are trying to kidnap the king of

- rock 'n' roll! And I'm in hot pursuit! - Mr. Kissinger, is there any way

we can drop this N-bomb before 1:00? They're showing the continuation

of "good times" today, and I need to see if Penny falls down the elevator shaft.

That show is hilarious.

No "Good times" until we know we got Elvis' body.

Whoo-hoo!

What was that?

You think you can outrun me, you black bastard?!

It's Tricky dick!

All I wanted was a little bit of drugs in the community, but no!

You brought this on yourself, Black Dynamite!

Damn it! Basehead dropped dime on us!

Hurry up! They're catching up on us!

Base! How low could you go?

Damn it!

You can't kill a Basehead!

Honey Bee! If we don't make it out of here, I want you to

know somethin'. Even though you fucked up my hair and ruined

my life, true friendship is more important than any amount of hair ...

no matter how silky the perm is. And don't you worry ...

I ain't gonna press no charges on you, girl.

Oh, I know you wasn't, 'cause I would have whupped your ass.

But I am sorry for making you bald-headed and causing you to

look more fucked up than you already did. Oh, hug me.

Oh! Hey! I got an idea! I know y'all negroes got some Afro Sheen! Give it here!

Honey Bee, this ain't no time for cruel jokes!

Now, why the hell you sprayin' my bald head with Afro Sheen?!

There ain't nothin' that some good black folks can't

do if they put their minds and their Afro Sheens together.

Cream Corn, your hair ain't never did shit for us,

but your bald head just saved our lives. Can you dig it?

Come on, y'all! Hurry up!

Ok and now what do we do with his fat ass?

There's only one place a king can croak when he's

alone, and that's on his mothafuckin' porcelain throne!

Surprise, darknesses! Even though you got Elvis back to Graceland, I still

got you for breaking in and killing Elvis Presley. Operation Ghetto Blaster was

a success! Maybe not the way I envisioned it, but whatever.

Kissinger! I got the body! Start the countdown for the N-bomb.

Well, I guess this is as close as I'm gonna get to going out in a blaze of glory,

so if this is the way Black Dynamite is meant to end, squeeze the trigger, mothafucka!

Honey Bee, now ain't the time for you to be opening up your ass again.

- That ain't my ass opening this time. - Well, Mr. President, what an

honor having you here at Graceland.

Why are you and these strange colored folk

holding guns on each other in my master bedroom?

Fuck! Stop the countdown, Kissinger. The fat shit is alive.

My goodness. I must have missed something. Once in a while, I pass out for

a couple days and shit wake myself. One of these days, I'm gonna

fuck around and shit wake myself to death.

Here ... you want a polytheondothlicced acillathondasondaexofolicsedadstadene?

Long live your king, Tricky Dick. Long live your king.

Damn! Damn! Damn!!

Poof!