[funky hip-hop music]
I got one for y'all. Ayesha Curry or Savannah James?
Shit, I'll snag both of them Lar-tinas.
You know the rules to the game, homey.
- You can't take both. - That's a mediocre mindset, my nig.
Well, I'll take Ayesha over Savannah,
'cause you already know 'Bron did damage to them levies.
[all laughing]
[whistle blows] God damn it, Randy.
What you doing, mother[bleep]? Get your head in the game.
You ain't light-skinded enough to make that pass!
Damn, Bundy's breath is on one today.
I can actually see his words.
It's like the Tooth Fairy took a shit in his mouth.
I'm finna capture a BET award for this.
Who in the mother[bleep] hell you think you is?
- Russell Westbrook? - Well, I... I wish, Coach.
Well, you ain't, you quasi-gay mother[bleep].
I'm trying, Coach. You don't have to be so agro about it.
Well, try harder, ya no-toughness-havin',
wanna be a point guard but dribble like Dwight Coward,
couldn't jump over a credit card mother[bleep]!
[all laugh]
[sobs] I'm sorry.
Maybe I should just put a gun to my head.
Go ahead, mother[bleep] Everybody knows you can't shoot.
[sobbing] [laughter]
[sniffs]
Anybody else wanna [bleep] up my dreams?
I'm uploading this shit right now, yadada mean?
Got you, mother[bleep].
2x03 - "Coach Fishy"
sync & correction by f1nc0 ~ Addic7ed.com ~
- Damn it, damn it, damn it... - I don't know.
Oh, I'm very excited here.
Everybody settle down.
I know that we've all seen the video,
and I'm sure Coach Bundy wants to apologize.
[soft strings]
[clears throat] Ladies and gentlemen...
I ain't apologizing for shit!
[microphone sizzles]
- Questions? - Kiss my grits, Bundy.
You can't bully my son. He's your best player!
These kids need to be coddled, enabled, and lied to,
just like they will be in the real world.
[indistinct mumbling]
...some ol' emo type shit.
Look, it's time to vote.
All those in favor of Coach Bundy being fired,
- say "holler." - All: Holler!
Sorry, Coach, the parents have spoken.
Gonna have to fire you. Now turn in your whistle
and your polyester compression shorts.
I ain't turning in shit, mother[bleep]. [whistle blows]
Y'all come get this mother[bleep] if you want to.
[wind whooshes, lightning cracks]
God damn, man. You need all that dick?
[dramatic drums]
It looks like longtime Duncan head coach, Ike Bundy,
is in bloody waters after a video leaked of him
beraping one of his players with his ball.
The Chamberlain Heights school district
will be looking for a replacement
who can keep it coolio under pressure.
[laughs] I wrote that.
Looking for some midnight anus, handsome?
[beeping]
[sweeping instrumental music]
[school-bell rings]
Damn, Milk. Ain't you gonna go apologize
to Coach Bundy for getting him booted?
Forget Coach Bundy. He always yelling at us,
he don't give us any burn, and his breath smell like
his mouth and his ass switched places.
[all laugh]
- Can I help you? - I'm your new head coach.
Derek Fisher, I get that you're a basketball player,
but you can't just come in here and... [fly unzips]
[thump]
- Oh, shit. - That is a nice suit.
[funky hip-hop music]
Students of Duncan, it is with great pleasure
that I introduce you to your new head basketball coach.
He's well-hung... I mean, well-equipped to handle this job.
Give it up for five-time NBA champion, Derek Fisher!
[cheers and applause] He's so gorgeous. I got some bait for those fish lips.
We got a celebrity coach, my nig.
[slaps] Ah!
We might actually get some burn.
How you figure? We ride the bench.
He ain't seen us play, so he don't know that y'all suck.
What? I got statistics. Google me, bitch.
I'm your coach. You're welcome.
[beeping]
I'ma have your babies, Coach Fisher! [gasps]
[soft jazz music]
[gargles]
What's wrong with you, Ike?
You look like me on our wedding day.
Rivers brought that goddamn Derek Fisher in to take my job.
Derek Fisher? Ooh, Lakers' Derek Fisher?
Yes, the sexy, delicious, high yella mother[bleep].
- You can say that again. - Say what again, mother[bleep]?
Huh? What? Uh... Oh, uh, nothing, Ike.
I mean, what has this nigga done really?
Eh, nothing. He's only a five-time NBA champion,
'96 Sun Belt Player of the Year,
and the best-looking Laker since Jamaal "Silk" Wilkes.
Everybody knows Rick Fox is the prettiest Laker of all time.
Anyways, Fisher's coaching the game tonight,
and I wanna go see the mother[bleep] crash and burn.
[newspaper rips]
[dramatic music]
[announcer] Duncan High is the place to be tonight
for the debut of Head Coach Derek Fisher.
You're welcome.
Love me. Love me.
Who wants to sex Fisher?
[marker squeaking]
- Fisher. [all gasping] - [mechanical noises] Bundy.
You know you ain't shit, right?
I know. Who do I make this out to?
[bleep] you, Fish.
What the [bleep]? God damn, nigga, you strong.
- You're welcome. - Bundy, just so you know,
I personally have no problem with you being here.
In fact, you can go sit on the bench
with the rest of the shit crew. [sniffs]
[bleep] you, Doc! [chuckles]
Girl: Work that black D, baby!
[whistle blows]
And the Blind Bats win the tip.
I bet no one saw that coming.
Hey, Bundy, welcome to the shit crew.
[all laugh]
What you talking about, Jamal?
I ain't one of y'all mother[bleep].
So what y'all do when y'all just sitting here?
Y'all play any games, like, uh, Chutes and Ladders or Battleship?
'Cause I will sink all you mother[bleep]s.
We scout the spectators for future boos.
Ooh, and a number one prospect just entered the premises.
[groovy music]
Shit, I'd crash, smash, and Kardash that ass.
Shit, I'd eat it, beat it, and skeet it.
She's a brick house. I'd leave my old lady for that mother...
Wait a goddamn minute! That is my old lady!
[beeping]
Who the hell you think you pinky waving at?
That's my wife, mother[bleep].
You the name of the game. Your bitch chose me.
[groans] Mother[bleep].
[marker squeaks] You're welcome.
[all laughing]
- Ah! - [sniffs] Ugh.
[grunts]
Y'all can kiss the blackest part of my ass.
[sad music]
[shouting] Why?!
And even in defeat, Derek Fisher is still victorious.
Ah, damn it! [glass shatters]
Ike, I am done with you and this marriage.
You ain't shit, your breath smells like shit,
and you don't even have a meat print.
I just got fired, and now you gonna fire me too?
Don't do this to me, sweetie.
Look, Ike, I'm a basketball wife, and you out of the game.
I found someone else to run the dick and roll with.
Now ain't this a bitch and two hos?
I'm happy Coach Bundy got booted.
I won't miss him or that hot-ass breath.
I feel you. Coach Fisher the wave.
Bundy wasn't even the wave cap.
I ain't gonna lie. His smile is infectious.
If I was a girl, I'd let him blow me.
Relax, guys, it ain't gay if I'm a girl.
Anyways, we just gotta make sure we show Coach Fish we some legends.
I'm kinda nervous for our first practice with him.
- Don't be nervous, Grover. - Mom, shut yo' ass up and drive.
Mind yo' business when black folks talking.
Oh, Milky, relax. Jamal is right.
Coach Fisher is handsome.
He's smooth, but hard... oh, and supple. [music]
He's definitely a coconut oil kinda Mandingo. [giggles]
Yo, Moms, you can't say that kinda racist shit.
Oh, please. I've had more black semen in me
than a Haitian submarine. [all groan]
[giggles] Anyhoo...
your coach messaged me last night on Snapchat,
asking me to be a team mom.
Hold up, why Coach Fisher hitting you in the DMs?
Because, honey, everyone knows it goes down in the DMs.
You want to be great, you must follow the Fishman.
[funky hip-hop music]
[beeping]
[grunts]
[beeping]
[whirring, beeping]
Damn, my nigs, Coach Fisher's practice
was lamer than a mother[bleep]. [camera shutter clicks]
Yup, all bruh did was show off his meat print
and make us shag his jumpers.
That shit was some boo-boo.
Yup, Bundy may have had death breath,
but at least he wanted to make us better.
He probably screaming at his new team right now.
Slow down, and let me find the mother[bleep]. Damn!
I don't understand why I can't have the fish.
- [bleep] a fish. - What's the problem now, [bleep] boy?
The fish and the chicken look the same.
Do you see the pictures? When does fish have feet?
Come on, boss. My cataracts is acting up.
Come on, get your head in the game
and get this line moving, [bleep] boy.
You can't talk to me like that. I used to be a coach.
Look at me. I'm the coach now.
Uh, Coach Bundy? You work here now?
No, you dumb mother... I mean, yes.
Y'all the reason why I got fired in the first place.
Damn, bruh, I thought you'd at least be manager.
- You okay? - Do I look okay?
I just lost my job and my wife to Derek Fisher.
For real? How you know he's smashing?
He left this at my house.
That look awful small to be D-Fish's headband.
Nah, this is his cock band.
- Now, this is his headband. - That don't prove shit.
Oh, and, uh, I walked in on them [bleep].
- Oh, gotcha. - I'm nothing without Duncan.
As much as I hated you no-talented bastards,
I loved coaching y'all. I was tough, [music]
but that's the only way I know how to coach.
Basketball was my life.
Hey, [bleep] boy. I done warned you too many times
about getting sentimental with the customers. You fired.
Damn, that's the second time I've been fired this week.
Well, nothing left to do but go smoke some rocks.
It is game time. Now I've been looking at the analytics
and crunching the data points,
and this strategy works the best.
Randy and Mumblemouth, I am benching you.
What?! Come on, Coach. I'm team captain
and the best player on the squad.
[mumbling] Man, how you gonna go on and bench me like
I'm one of these... I'm one of these fresh fish?
You're welcome. Grover, Milk, you're starting the game.
- Oh, hell yeah. - That's right.
Say what, my nig?
Damn, J. Guess we all can't be legends.
[funky hip-hop music]
[laughs]
Timeout.
[whistle blows]
[breathes heavily, vomits]
[laughs] Damn, Milk. "Guess we all can't be legends."
It's okay, fellas. Let's just stand over here.
We may be down 30, but there is still hope.
It is time to run Derek Lamar Fisher's
patented circle offense.
- What's the circle offense, Coach? - Form a circle around me.
[beeping]
Did I ever tell you about the time the Fish saved the Lakers
from certain doom with only 0.4 seconds remaining
to beat the San Antonio Spurs? [music]
Nobody thought he could do it. Not Phil.
Not Shaq. Not Kobe's bitch ass.
So he willed himself to greatness.
[whistle blows] Come on now, Coach.
We got a game to play. Let's go.
I'ma have to call all our timeouts, Ref.
This story has three minutes and 42 seconds remaining.
Now where was I?
Gary Payton was taking the ball out of bounds.
I was supposed to be setting a screen for Mr. Kobe Bryant himself. [music]
I did not feel like Kobe would be competent in making the shot.
[dramatic music]
This nigga!
Y'all not listening. D-Fish's game plan
is to smash all the boo'd-up chicks in Chamberlain Heights.
That meat print is out there. It can't be bargained with.
It can't be reasoned with. It doesn't feel pity,
and it won't stop, ever, until you get [bleep].
Come on, Jamal. That sounds scandy.
- D-Fish a good dude. - Good dude?
He did it to Matt Barnes. He did it to Coach Bundy.
Now he finna churn some Hunny!
Milk, your mom is next. Then Cindy.
We gotta stop that mark.
There his car go. Sha-mon.
- [moaning] Ah, it feel good. - Yes... oh, goodness, oh!
Hunny likes her coffee. Oh! [giggles]
Yo, he giving my moms that meat print.
Hard.
[moaning]
So, uh, how long we just gonna stand here and watch this?
Well, at least he using protection.
What, he think my mom a ho or something?
Not on my watch. [glass shatters]
- Mom, what in the [bleep]? - Oh, Milton...
- Yo, fellas, fellas, what is happening here? - Uh, did you...
did you lose your house key again?
All I needed was another 24 seconds,
and I would have drained my balls from deep.
Shut your ass up, D-Fish. You ain't even have
the common courtesy to raw dog my mom.
- You ain't shit, homey. - Milton, get the hell out of here!
- I was almost there. - Ew, Mom! Shit!
Mrs. Milk, we just wanna tell you that
- Coach Fish ain't who he say he is. - See for yourself.
You will return that to me immediately.
We tellin' Principal Rivers the whole story.
[bleep] out of town, Dead Fish!
Tighten it back up. I'll be back.
[glass shatters] [music]
- On it. - So are we breaking for lunch or...
[dramatic music]
Oh, shit! He's gaining on us.
I can't run much longer. I didn't bring my sports bra.
[panting] [music]
[beeping]
Mmm... fresh pussy.
I'm so glad we waited to have sex
until after we were married. I can't wait to spend
the rest of our lives together... [screams]
You're welcome.
We can't have these breakdowns
if y'all wanna win the game, mother[bleep]s.
Yo, is that Bundy coaching a team with no team?
- I'ma go holler at him right quick. - Be careful, my nig.
Guaranteed he ain't brushed his teeth in a cool minute.
Hey, Coach. It's me, Grover.
Cummings! How many times I gotta tell you
to pass the ball? Come on, Montrel!
Get your head in the game, mother[bleep]!
We need you back at Duncan, Coach.
D-Fish is ruining everything here.
Your breath and your coaching stink, but at least you care.
Come on back, Coach. God damn, you stink!
[music]
I got your text, Grover. What's the big emergency?
We just found out Coach Fisher's shadier than Slim
when he's with Kim with no lights on in the gym.
Both: Bars!
Why you guys hating on Coach Fisher?
He's been nothing but a gentleman.
He says he's gonna introduce me to his friend,
- Meat Print Papi. - No, you don't wanna meet him.
He's trying to terminate every chick in CH that's boo'd up.
It's my job to keep that booty safe.
Yeah, he already broke up Coach Bundy's marriage
and remodeled Milk's mom's interior.
Let's just say she now has a basement and a storm shed.
And you next on the list.
I bet he does this everywhere he goes.
Lakers, Knicks... shit, I heard by the time he left Utah,
- the Jazz spelled their name with a "i". - Ugh, that sick bastard.
How the hell do we get rid of him? [blows]
Now I heard y'all was having a little issue with D-Fish.
I can help you with that. I used to hoop with Matt Barnes
back in the summers at the Drew League.
Now, Matt is one of the realest niggas on the planet.
Don't think he would mind sending another message to D-Fish.
How we gonna get in touch with Matt?
Oh, I can holler, but that's gonna run you
half a hundred and a fifty...
[whispers] In singles.
Broke-ass nigs. [slaps] Ah!
[dialing] [organ fanfare]
- [phone beeps] Yo. - Hey, yo, Matt. What's up?
It's 'Trelly from the Drew League.
Remember, we used to smoke blunts in the parking lot?
Oh, my dude. What's cracking?
[crowd boos] Aye, shut the [bleep] up!
I'm on the phone.
Hey, Derek Fisher out here in Chamberlain Heights
talking major shit about you and your tattoos.
- You need to handle that. - Say whaaa? I'm on my way.
[mariachi music]
[music]
[farts] [groans]
Voices: We need you, Coach.
- Nigga, we need you too. - We need you more.
- Crack. - Come on, Coach.
Crack...
Crack-crack-crack-crack-crack- crack-crack-crack-crack.
[mariachi music] [tires screech, explosion]
Let's bounce back.
"Black Holes" on three, two, one.
All: Black Holes!
- Grover, Milk, Jamal. - What you want, buster?
You know what it is. Keep your mouth shut
or the next ass I get in is going to be yours.
[door crashes open]
- Fisher! - Matthew.
I heard you was out here breaking the code. Square up!
You know the name of the game, Matthew.
These bitches are choosing. Quit being a simp.
The time for talking is done, Derek. Shoot the fade.
[dramatic music]
[clang]
[mechanical whirring]
Oh, shit. I knew our school was hood.
[metallic clanging]
Oh, shit. That nigga's a machine too?
[mechanical whir]
[laughs]
[clanging]
Ah!
[clanging]
[blade whirs]
- Ah! - Matthew, how do my ass taste?
[whistle blows]
Surprise, mother[bleep]. [laughs]
Bundy.
[both yelling]
[exhales slowly] [bubbling]
- I'm glad that's over. - Nah, there's still one left.
- I can't kill myself. [music] - Why come, Matt?
- Come on, tell me. - I don't wanna play
in Sacramento no more. Just kill me, Coach.
[exhales]
[camera shutter clicks] Worldstar!
Coach Bundy, I'm glad you're back.
- You know I always believed in you. - Yeah, whatever, nigga.
Get your asses on the court!
We got a mother[bleep] game to play, [bleep] boys.
[whirrs]
Stop fouling, guys! Let's get this shit over with.
Man, this some bullshit.
Don't Coach Bundy know if he gave us some burn,
we'd deliver some shine?
Yeah, [bleep] Coach Bundy's seniority respecting,
always talking 'bout practice, dedicated to the game ass bullshit.
I heard what y'all said, and I appreciate what you did for me,
so I'm gonna do you a solid. Hey, timeout, Ref!
[whistle blows]
Come on, Coach, you tripping.
There's only five seconds left. Maybe next game.
I'm trying to be nice to you mother[bleep]s!
Now get your ass in the game! Milk, come here.
Man, what you want, dookie breath?
I know we haven't seen eye to eye, but I believe in you, boy.
So as soon as you get that ball, want you to shoot it. [music]
Oh, for real? I got the green light?
This your time, Milk. I believe you can fly, mother[bleep].
[whistle blows]
[crowd shouting]
[buzzer sounds] [all gasp]
Air ball!
All: Air ball!
Worldstar! Got you, mother[bleep].
[all laugh]
Got him!
sync & correction by f1nc0 ~ Addic7ed.com ~