Original subtitles

All right, now, come on.

Let's go, baby.

We gonna be there soon.

All right, 15 minutes.

All right, people, back on the bus.

It's time to go.

Hey, little mama, where you going?

We finna go.

Welcome to Saturday night at The Pynk,

the finest shake joint in all of Pussy Valley,

right off exit 29 in the Dirty Delta,

as fertile as the Nile.

Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!

Shake that, pop that, jiggle that fat ass!

Let's go up in this bitch!

And this nigga gonna say, "Can I get some change?"

- No. - And I was like, "No, nigga, no."

Ain't like my G-string a motherfucking collection plate.

Amen.

And here I thought stripping was a recession-proof industry.

Bitch, how that pole burn, though?

Better put some Neosporin on that bitch.

Another scar on my pretty-ass legs.

They gonna get you with them pretty-ass legs.

- Shit. - Fuck!

What the hell?

Customer put his fucking beer on the stage,

I do a monkey drop, he end up busting me in my fucking head.

You gonna need more than some Neosporin for that.

You gonna need some stitches.

Mercedes, finish dancing my turn for me?

My arms is tired.

I'm liable to fly right off the pole into the crowd.

Mercedes, finish that girl turn.

- Hell, why don't you do it? - Because I just went out.

I'll give you a blunt.

Miss Mississippi, bring your black ass back out on this stage right now.

Right now.

Bitch, you gonna owe me more than a blunt.

Can I borrow your hairpiece?

Y'all, it is money out there.

Child, smell like somebody that died up in here.

First day back off maternity leave and I get another fucking scar.

Hair can cover this one.

Floss can't cover that one.

- That's that bud. - $20, nigga.

All right, it be 30, little mama.

But that gentleman just paid 20.

Yeah, well, that how much it cost for a pretty bitch like you.

That how you give compliments round these here parts?

That's just the politicking of The Pynk.

Uncle Clifford rules.

No funny money, no bullets,

and no motherfucking chips.

No chips?

Look...

...take this 20 and my email.

Your email?

It's gonna be like that.

Take your Rihanna-looking ass on somewhere.

Next!

Okay, you good.

Go on in.

Go ahead.

Back of the line.

Hands where I can see 'em.

Hey, what'd I say?

Hands where I can see 'em.

Sorry. Slipped.

Slipped again.

Hey, bitch! Bitch, what the hell?

- I got this. - Hey, come on, now!

I told you to keep your hands off our girls, now.

- Hey, motherfucker, what you doing? - Bring your ass.

Get your hands off me, boy!

I done paid my damn money!

Come back soon, now!

Fuck you!

Faggot-ass nigga!

Hell, The Pynk ain't hitting on shit nowadays no way.

Jesse, you best calm down before I tell your wife where you was tonight.

I want my cover charge back!

You want your come back, too?

Well, now, Jesse looked a bit drunk.

No, he just got a bad case of blue balls.

That's why he wobbling.

Uncle Clifford, you best not be serving no liquor.

Now, you know this new mayor and his no tequila and titties ordinance.

Sheriff Bailey, you know me.

I abides by all the county rules.

As you know, I have mine own.

Good. Liquor and pussy are like a stick of dynamite.

Blow up in your face every time.

I want to know what kind of liquor and pussy you sipping on do all that.

Clifford, ain't nobody got time to be writing no summonses.

What, you want to come take a look for yourself?

Make sure we living right in this warehouse of sin?

Well...

it's a Saturday night.

Sunday morning just a minute away.

So let me break you off some of these honey golds...

for your trouble.

Better get these home before they get cold.

Night, Uncle Clifford.

Night, Sheriff Bailey.

Better off letting him see some of these bitches' pussy than some bank, man.

Diamond!

Did anybody ask your opinion?

All right, bitches.

Booty Battle rules.

DJ Neva Scared gonna give each bitch two minutes to turn up,

and after that, you exit stage left.

Winner wins 50 duckets and a hot plate.

Any questions?

All right, good.

Now, give bitch your name,

and you best not say no Alizé,

'cause last bitch that came in here with that name...

Let me think on that, then.

Next.

- Skrawberry. - Skrawberry?

My name Blue Cinnamon.

And where they do that at?

You ain't ready for this war.

Where your floss at?

Maite, can you get this bitch beat for tonight?

Don't worry. I got it, Uncle.

This one.

It light up in the dark.

- How much? - 15.

But for you, 10.

Hey, that Yvonne Saint Lorraine you rocking?

Yves Saint Laurent?

Yeah.

Bitch, what your name is?

I said what's your name?

Autumn.

Autumn Night.

Sounding all poetic and shit.

Oh, man.

- What's up, Big L? - What's up, Style Jean?

Mercedes' Last Dance.

After seven years, huh?

Took you long enough.

Well, my 401(k) in need of spending.

Besides, 25 retirement age for a stripper nowadays, so...

Who gonna take over your Sunday night set?

I don't know.

But come end of the month, no more Mercedes Sundays for me.

Bitch, you crying?

Heifer, ain't nobody crying over your baby-neck-smelling ass.

What you gonna do when you leave?

What all G do.

Count our money.

It time for The Pynk Booty Battle.

First up, we got Blue Cinnamon.

Skrawberry.

Get it, Alizé.

Y'all need to give it up for these bitches, man,

and bitches who are here with they niggas, don't be J.

Give it up for these bitches, too.

And last but not least,

sounding all poetic and shit,

Autumn Night!

We got a winner!

We got a winner!

All right, Autumn Night!

Don't spend it all at the nail shop, now.

What's a girl have to do to work here?

I mean, do I need to fill out a job application or something?

Bitch, this ain't no damn Walmart.

But there sure is a opening.

Nice ass.

Got a nice jiggle to it.

Them titties look like two little bee stings,

but you work hard, buy you some bigger ones.

Nice teeth.

You got good-grade hair.

I got Indian in my family.

Bitch, that's a Peruvian bundle.

You can start tomorrow, if you want to.

I don't know why you suddenly start taking on more bitches.

Mercedes, why is you over there yapping

when you the one leaving us at the end of the month?

Mercedes' Last Dance?

Keyshawn, I was finna tell you.

I know you been saying it for I don't how long.

But why now?

My bad.

Is this one empty?

Slow your roll, high yellow. I ain't gone yet.

Apologies.

Y'all bitches stinking hop off this Booty Battle crown,

but best believe,

your ass ain't gonna last one week 'neath these lights.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!

No, no! No, no, no, no!

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

I said, oh, hey

We need your ten percent

I say all right

God needs your ten percent

And the Lord will give you

A blessing

Hallelujah

Lord, will He bless you

Won't He make a way

Hallelujah, come on

Come on and give Him praise, yeah

Yeah, come on

Come on, somebody

Lord, get your money up in here

Come on and magnify the Lord with me

For He is good and His mercy is good forever

Hallelujah, come on

Somebody, hey

Hey

Hey

God loves a cheerful giver

And we know when the pages go up

The blessings come down

But you can't get no blessings

While you're still sitting down

Come on, somebody

I know y'all can hear me out there

Better give Him praise

Hallelujah, hallelujah

Hallelujah, come down to the offering plate

Now, y'all done sent me all these notices saying I'm behind.

A nigga roll up in here with a check, y'all won't take it?

You made the bad check list this month, Clifford.

Y'all could have used a cuter picture than that.

I'll be sure to tell management about your request.

Look, just hold on to this till next week.

I postdated.

Ain't that fine establishment of yours in need of some toilet paper?

Who told you that,

your husband?

Cash or money order on this equity loan

against the club from here on out, Clifford.

- And if I don't? - Then you and your hoochie-coochie girls

gonna have to post up somewhere else.

Passport, please.

See, these folks say this ain't discriminating.

Y'all all best come on down to The Pynk.

I won't take $35 out your check

to give you your motherfucking money.

Más dineros, negritos.

And some tequila for you, too, baby.

Sucker.

Five, six, seven, eight.

This ish y'all doing right here ain't gonna get y'all no crown.

I mean, how y'all just gonna let the Southaven Sizzles

come and steal your trophy?

I mean, how?

I asked y'all a question.

- I did my part! - Shut up!

If y'all don't learn nothing else from me, y'all learn this.

In this life, you always got to go full out.

Ain't no mark in this ish.

Do it again, but before that, give me 50 toe touches.

One.

Two.

Three.

Can't believe you got these girls practicing on a Sunday afternoon, too.

God don't mind,

'cause thou shalt not lose to the Southaven Sizzles.

That girl done got too big to be wearing shorts that short.

Her mom all right with it.

Four, five, six, seven, eight.

Can't believe I even let you hide your booty money in the church building fund.

You sure weren't complaining when I put that booty money in y'all account

so y'all could apply for that loan.

Well, you got your pulpit, and I got mine.

You in a hole that deep for a refinancing loan?

- How you let it get that bad, man? - Nigga, hush.

We ain't never gonna be able to keep the fridge on ice

with Mercedes on her way out the door.

Tell me something I don't know.

Shit.

All right, all right, all right.

Everybody here?

Where Keyshawn at?

- She coming. - She just text us.

Bitch constantly be on CP time.

Y'all let her know I'm instituting some new rules

for y'all hos starting tonight.

The new stripper math:

$4 off a lap dance,

15% off the private rooms for the house.

- The fuck? - Stage work was always paid beforehand.

Now that include tip-out, too.

Come on.

You really gonna have bitches hitting the floor negative a Benjy?

Hell, if bitches ain't skip out on tip-out at the end of the night,

maybe Uncle Clifford wouldn't have to make y'all pay before.

Me and my girl pocketbook getting fucked up over here.

Well, we'd all leave with more scrilla in our pockets

if y'all didn't make them weak-ass drinks.

Mercedes, you be the main one.

Always flodging like you gonna come up off them duckets,

and at the end of the night, your ass ain't nowhere to be seen.

- DJ Neva Scared know. - Found the perfect property for you.

- When you wanna see it? - Cool all that nastiness down now.

Cool down.

Now, y'all know if it wasn't for Mercedes Sundays,

y'all hos wouldn't be ringing in nothing but $20 each on a holy night.

I don't know what y'all gonna do without this Mississippi bread,

chitlins, and corn bread-fed booty!

But I'ma pay what I owe y'all,

'cause tonight this ass gonna make it rain hella fast.

Maybe even some tetanus, too.

I...

I fell.

Don't tell me it's corn bread when I smell them biscuits burning.

Are you all right?

Bitch, what you think?

Like I was saying, some things gonna have to change around here,

and y'all bitches better like it.

Go make them asses pretty, now.

Gidget?

Come get this baby.

- On my break here. - Come over here, girl.

Yeah?

Yeah.

Yeah.

See?

You's a liar.

Now, burp her good, now.

Give me your shit and sit over there.

Come on.

Sorry.

I'm sorry. Sorry, sorry.

I hit him first.

What, you don't believe me?

I ain't said nothing.

Ain't said a word.

How many you got by him?

Two.

The other one over with my mama now.

He say he love me.

Hey, I know that kind of love.

It feel good 'cause it make you feel something.

Let you know you're living,

even though living ain't 'posed to feel that bad.

Come on.

You don't understand.

How come I don't?

Hell, I used to have a nigga used to beat my ass.

- You? - Sure did.

That's till I poured a pot of hot grits all over his ding-a-ling.

Yes, ma'am, I had to Al Green his ass something terrible.

And he ain't never bother me no nevermore.

Sorry. I'm sorry.

Honey, I'm trying to get you blent for the gods,

but I think a ton of this darn blend gonna cover up all this ugly...

I don't know why y'all heifers just let these niggas

just fuck with your money like this.

That what he doing.

Think he can tell me what to do with my money.

Girl, hey!

This is your money.

Right here!

Right here. This is your strength.

You let a nigga take this away from you, I don't know what you gonna do.

Go on back there. Get dressed.

Here.

Yep.

It's opening time at The Pynk.

Now, you remember, we got that $3 dozen special on them Parmesan wings.

Why your nose so turnt?

I thought you liked a little easy money.

I do. I'm just wondering why all these Mexican niggas here.

Hosses ain't even started yet.

Promised Land Equities.

Who that?

- Murda, let me kill that. - No doubt.

Woddy, what the fuck you wasting my tea on, man?

On the floral brick, nigga.

You wet it down, it keep your flowers from drying out in the rain.

Faggot-ass nigga, you got a hobby arranging flowers or some shit?

Fuck you.

They use these in the sprayers down at the funeral home.

Kept the carnations from wilting.

Boy.

Yeah, boy.

Hey, queen! Hey!

Slay, queen, slay!

Do it, do it.

Little Murder in the building!

Goddamn, nigga, your fingers strong.

To the back of the line, young un.

Hey, this is Little Murder, nigga. You ain't know?

I don't know nobody who ain't VIP.

It's all right.

All right, bitches.

Where these asses at?

Nice!

Nice, nice.

Niggas ain't gonna know what to do when they see

what Uncle Clifford got in her stable.

Come on, now.

We got some very important penises out there.

Come on.

Now, I need you to break her in, teach her how to work the flo'.

Nothing else.

Now, how the fuck you gonna make moi of all people babysit?

Do you want to trade?

I ain't think so.

Now, you go on and be a good booty buddy, now.

Yeah?

Damn!

Fall back, kinfolk.

My booty needs some negative space to be synched up in this bitch.

Sorry.

Want a drink?

No, bitch.

He ain't popped his tags yet.

- What? - Ain't popped his tags yet.

Meaning he got a cute suit from Dillard's

and gonna take it right back for a refund before the week out.

I ain't worth the dance.

How in the world did you know--

Got to always have them FBI eyes.

Watch.

Hey, rookie!

Which one you pick?

That guy with the vintage "Space Jams"?

Yeah, that's 850 on they feet and not in they pocket.

Ordered some fucking Midori sours.

Hey, little mama.

Hey, I know you hear me talking to you, girl.

Now, big boss over there

ordered that top-tier five-star.

Plus, look at how he hold hisself.

I'm sorry.

Diamond, please.

You gonna eat your Vienna sausages or no?

They ain't mine.

You know, I can take care of that.

Many folks you killed over there,

you don't need another body on that conscience of yours.

Well, it's better his than yours.

No, thank you.

Well, the offer's out, if you...

Mississippi, you on deck.

You sure?

Throw some ones up in the air

for Miss M-I-crooked letter, crooked letter-I,

crooked letter, crooked letter-I,

humpback, humpback-I!

Come on, now!

About to switch it up real quick.

Y'all wasn't ready for all that.

Yeah, yeah!

Hey, girl, hey! Want to come partake in my little party?

Seem like you got your lap full right about now.

No, my lap big enough to accompany all that there.

Well, if I'm gonna twerk it,

you gonna have to make this G-string greener than I never seen.

I like your consonance.

I like your assonance, too.

Hey, fuck with your boy for a minute.

I got a Louis duffel full of coochie coupons, you heard?

That duffel could hold eight stacks, but you ain't got nothing but five.

With them floral arrangement bricks up in there, it's hard to tell.

- Hell, I don't-- - Okay, okay.

So it's, like, five stacks, then.

Four.

You just wasted a G on these hos perpetrating.

Damn, bitch. You's a OG for real.

What your name is, partner?

Little Murder.

Hottest rapper out in these streets right about now.

Little Murder, huh?

Is we spending four stacks on a lap dance tonight,

or you got something else in mind?

- Something else. - Keep talking.

This champagne room busy, you know what I'm saying?

Who that guy getting it right there, though?

Nobody.

No, player, that's like Beyoncé cousin with that blue dress on.

Hey, now, that's a good metaphor.

Write that shit down.

Guess I'm gonna have to swing my stacks thataway, then.

Hold up, hold up, hold up.

You say you got four stacks, huh?

Let me see.

Okay.

Tell you what.

I pull in for your boy over there,

but you give us all your coochie coupons.

- Double the trouble! - Bet.

If you ain't laying down no ones that'll keep that electric on,

you best move along, brown Fubu T-shirt.

So I got a customer want you and me in VIP.

You down?

VIP?

That's not what Uncle Clifford said.

The way you getting down up in twerk town,

you gonna have to come up off of these training wheels.

Besides, I got a nigga willing to pay two stacks,

a G for me and a G for you.

A G, huh?

Girl, that's double what niggas throwing down nowadays in the champagne room.

Besides, you need to learn how to handle VIP.

And who better to learn from than a OG like me?

Getting creamy up in this bitch right here!

It's getting creamy!

Goddamn, man!

Redbone. Redbone, look my way.

Look my way!

I said look my way!

Hey! Don't make me have to wrap a nigga balls round his neck.

Don't touch them unless they touch you.

It's all copacetic in the cut, Diamond.

Look, you gonna have to calm down drunk as fuck over there.

Nigga, you doing the most right now.

- She's straight? - Yeah, she straight.

I see why they call you Little Murder.

You ain't seen nothing yet till I take you to the next level.

You know what I'm saying?

That's the Paradise Room.

That's only for private, private parties.

Well, if you want more,

there's something I'ma need to put on you in private.

Autumn...

...be right back.

Finna take my man over to the Mercedes room.

Y'all take good care of my sis, now.

I'll be back.

No, dog. My booty can't bump to this.

What you mean?

Ain't got enough tremolo, ask me.

And these lyrics, though?

I mean, is you rappin' in cursive or what?

Bitch, this trap reggae soul.

This slaw, what it is.

You ain't pinning this shit on my badonkadonk.

- Then fuck all my stacks, then. - That's fine.

Who needs your money when a bitch got some artistic integrity?

You're the bad one of the bunch, I see.

Halfway right but mostly sweet, though.

Like this neck of yours.

Come on, shorty. Stop acting all uptight.

Drink some of this champagne with me.

You mean sparkling wine?

What?

Redbone, you think you better than us, huh?

Hey, hey, I didn't--

Then don't be getting all saditty on a nigga.

Please, let go of me!

Yo, Pico, what the fuck?

Shit!

Damn!

Hey, hey, hey, get up off my nigga, man!

You want to do things the hard way, huh?

That's one way to VIP.

Damn, nigga, watch where you putting them boats.

My bad, nigga. I'm looking for that bitch.

Which bitch? Which one?

The redbone with the white tank on.

- We ain't mean to offend her. - What?

- Nigga, what? - I said we ain't mean to offend her.

- Nigga, what? - I said we ain't mean to offend her!

Come on over here.

Now, say what you said.

Damn!

This room on some Super Mario save the princess type shit.

Nigga, what you know about some save the princess?

That's before your time.

I'm a old soul.

And what was you saying?

Shit got kind of hectic up in VIP.

I wanted to apologize to little shorty.

Well, she gonna have to get used to it,

learn how to handle herself if she want to work for me.

So you the manager round here.

I found me the man I need to complain to.

Wo-man.

Besides, what you got to be complaining about?

The Pynk got everything that a man need.

We got white bitches, redbone bitches,

high yellow bitches, midnight blue bitches,

molly, hot wings, Tums after the hot wings.

Seem like The Pynk got everything but the one thing I really need.

This little nigga trying to make me blush.

Don't make me fall the fuck out.

Well, I lays motherfuckers out.

That's why they call me Little Murder.

That your government name?

It's my rap name.

So you just be...

doing little murders as opposed to big murders?

I buys them all, baby.

Is that right?

In fact, I got something that'll murder you.

- You all right? - What the fuck do you think you're doing?

Wait a minute. Are you taking pictures of me?

No, no.

I do real estate.

Stupid me, I didn't take all the pictures I needed to earlier

for a meeting with a client.

Hey, you all right?

Yeah.

Yeah, yeah.

Just needed some air. Gets stuffy in there.

I couldn't breathe.

The smoke?

Actually, you got one?

No.

What's your vice, then?

Don't got one.

Can't trust a man without a vice.

We all need to give in to something.

True that.

Andre.

Andre Watkins.

They call me Autumn Night.

- Sounds all poetic and... - All poetic and shit.

I'm sorry I was so abrasive just then.

I just got a little shook.

Can only imagine what you got to shake off working up in there.

Your client's a vampire.

They got you out here taking pictures after midnight.

No.

It's just that during the day, this place goes ghost.

But at night, the spots round here, they start poppin'.

Client just couldn't believe.

Let me see.

You got a good eye.

That I do.

Well, you ain't seen poppin'...

...until you come inside.

You coming in?

You trying to give me a vice?

Why? You want one?

No.

No, no, I'ma head on back.

But it was a pleasure meeting you, Autumn.

Actually...

...it's Hailey.

- That's my name. - Nice.

Well, good night, Hailey.

Everybody ready?

I said are you ready?

I know brown Fubu T-shirt over there readier than a motherfucker, man.

Thirsty-ass big forces there, big-head nigga!

With your bald head.

But y'all better get ready,

'cause Mercedes about to pop that ass for that cash.

You know what I'm saying?

- I need you to play this. - This Mercedes-approved?

I thought you was DJ Neva Scared.

Now, here every nigga favorite night of the week at The Pynk!

Throw them Benjies up in the air

for the most luxurious booty round these parts.

She a hood celebrity, y'all.

Welcome to Mercedes Sunday!

Rewind!

I need y'all to say this with me now.

Mercedes!

- Mercedes. - What?

Mercedes.

Fuck it up, fuck it up, Mercedes.

Fuck it up, fuck it up, Mercedes.

Fuck it up, fuck it up, Mercedes.

Fuck it up, fuck it up, Mercedes.

Fuck it up, fuck it up, Mercedes.

Come on, now! Come on!

Lit up in this motherfucker.

Yeah, that's what I'm talking about.

Mercedes!

Wait.

Why you didn't tell me you was coming tonight, Ma?

- You know I don't like surprises. - They love you.

Folks was willing to give up their rent and car note for you.

I didn't know you made that kind of money.

Well, tonight was a good night.

What you think?

I mean, I see how you manage your abundance.

You always said I was blessed and highly favored.

Thank you, Jesus.

- Where did I go wrong, Mercedes? - Mama, don't start this shit again.

Why has my God forsaken me?

He must be so mad at me to have given me a ho for a daughter.

Heifer, I ain't never been no ho.

Your body is a temple, Mercedes.

- Didn't I teach you that? - You sure did.

That's why when I was a young un,

you sent me over to bend my temple over in front of them niggas

to get them to buy our breakfast at the Waffle House.

- I ain't know the Lord then. - Bitch, you barely know Him now.

- Stripping is blasphemous. - No, Ma.

It art. I transport motherfuckers.

Dazzle them, something you wish you could do.

Oh, Mercedes, this ain't gonna get you through the gates of heaven.

Well, I heard hell hella lit, though.

With all this,

church should have been getting double the tithes and offering,

with all the money I seen these heathens waste on you tonight.

So you think I'm a waste?

You're not a waste, Mercedes.

But this is a waste of time and your talent.

You think I'm doing this for nothing?

You ain't been doing shit but breaking my heart!

Oh, Lord!

This all my fault.

With everything I done done, I deserve this.

Put her sins on me, Lord, 'cause I can carry 'em.

For her and for me,

and I don't care if I have to die as a sacrifice

for this daughter of mine.

I will do everything in my power to save her.

Save her, oh, dear Lord! Save her! Save this ho!

Save her, Lord! Save her! Save her, Lord!

Save her! Save this...

God is always grateful for an offering.

But He'd be even more grateful for your repentance.

The cash all I got to give tonight.

See there, see? What I say I was gonna do?

That's $100 for you, Yoli,

and 60 for them snaggletooth-ass bottle girls of yourn.

100 for...

First time one of my sets been roofied.

Lil Schmurda must have broke you off something real nice

to have you slip that shit in on a bitch.

You better talk to your boss about that.

That was Uncle Clifford request.

Hey, man.

Well...

Somebody left two stacks for your little champagne room experience.

That's a G for you.

And a G for you.

He said it was more than that.

Oh, well, you know, it's always a lying nigga.

Or a lying bitch.

Like you said,

15% off my cut of the VIP.

And $147 for the lap dances.

Look at that, 'Cedes.

She might have beat you on the lap dance tip.

Why God made me talented and lazy, I don't know.

She ain't do nothing but lay up there looking light.

Well, that's what yellow bitches do.

Now, where the rest of your tip-out at?

- I ain't got it. - What?

How the hell you in the hole on Mercedes Sundays?

She done pulled that Holy Roller bullshit again.

No. I already owe you.

Bitch, this ain't mine.

Lil Schmurda, he gave you that.

Nigga, just count.

Hey, you need a ride, little mama?

No, I got one right there.

- Bye, y'all. - Bye, girl.

Bye, girl.

Wouldn't be me.

I don't care if man look like Idris Elba in his prime,

circa "The Wire" 2005.

Wouldn't be me.

Mercedes, she gonna do what she gonna do.

How you getting home, Miss Autumn Night?

You want to ride with me and...

Bitch.

I ain't got nothing but a two-seater, and we done giving lap dances for tonight.

I'm all right.

I wanted to stay a minute before I head on home.

Home? Where's home?

Out east.

You want to be heading east?

You should be heading thataway.