Atlanta (2016) s01e08 Episode Script

The Club

1 [indistinct party chatter.]
[indistinct party chatter.]
[Future's "Real Sisters" playing.]
Yo, I think Chris knows we're here or something.
Yeah, go see him.
Get us paid, and ask him what the fuck is up with this.
We get three bottles.
Of this shit? Naw, man, I need brown, bro, not no rosé whatever this bubbly SpongeBob piss is.
No, no, it's whatever, man.
You know, I get 20% of my drinks for free, so.
How so? I'm that guy; people see me and they just want to give me free drinks.
What can I say? I'm the guy.
Yo, it's just a club appearance, man Man, why I feel like nobody care I'm here? It see, see, man, that section, over there? That section? That should be my section, man.
Man, who over there more important than me, anyway? Shit.
If you want to stunt, we can do that next year, but right now, let's focus on getting paid.
Now, hold up, man.
Make sure you keep an eye on that promoter? I don't trust his kind, man.
He gonna try and play us.
- His kind? - Yeah.
What is this, "The Hobbit?" "We're from two different worlds.
" Man, he he Nigerian, man.
I don't trust Nigerians.
Darius is Nigerian.
He is? Yeah.
This nigga man.
Relax, man.
No, man, I don't trust niggas in the club.
Are you Paper Boi? Yes.
- Naw.
- Yeah you are.
Then nigga, why'd you ask if you already know the answer then? - Man, I love your shit, bro.
- Okay? "Trust I'ma get these bricks off the shelf.
"Trust Paper Boi, trust no man, I don't even trust myself.
" Yeah, I know it.
Thanks, man, cool.
"This is what it be like "when you wake up with that paper on you.
"Cold world, N-word snitching, caught that lead pneumonia.
"Cold world, but a N-word, not from North Carolina.
"I put the bricks on a boat, make it hard to find 'em.
"I just might sling it to your daughter for that new designer.
"This is the realest shit I wrote, I never touch a liar.
"I got the clips in the drawer dresser behind the CK.
"Got this long thing in your face like Dekimbe.
"Got a bitch calling out my name, oh, you thirst-ay? "I've been" Running the streets Looking out for a real one I'ma move like a crook move, but I'm God's son Thank you.
All right, man.
I been running the streets Looking out for a real one I'ma move like a crook move, but I'm God's son Thanks, man.
Around with me, you tryna dodge bullets Serving packs of chickens in a Dodge Hemi [music muffled.]
[indistinct talking.]
Yo, how we feeling, Primal? [cheers.]
No, no, no, no.
How we feeling, Primal? [cheering and whooping.]
Yo, yo, yo, yo.
We got a surprise tonight.
Marcus Miles is in the house.
Atlanta Hawks' point guard, what's good? [cheering and whooping.]
Oh yeah, oh yeah.
And we got my nigga Paper Boi! Paper Boi is in the house! - Make some noise! - [air horn blaring.]
[smattering of applause.]
[Young Dro's "We In Da City" plays.]
[beat drops.]
Car ain't got no roof I can't hear it, bro Car ain't got no roof We be in da city All my bitches with it Hey, hey Uh-oh, where your ho at? Uh-oh, where your ho at? - We be in da city - All my bitches with it Where you be at bruh? My crips in the city My bloods in the da bitty Guns up in Rambo house Blocks in dat bando house Choppas come from Yucatan You da man, you da man - I'm sittin up in this dually man - - Don't make me spray this Uzi man - - Pop shit you get popped quick - - No roof this drop sick - - My crew we rock shit - - Uh-oh where your ho at? - - You heard me? - Uh-oh she where dro at! - What? - Car ain't got no roof - Car ain't got no roof - - Car ain't got no roof - All right, cool.
We be in da city All my bitches with it [music mixes.]
[cheers and whistles.]
[trap music.]
Got smart big head Double cut sprang Good grams kush with it Had wood sprang Your shit have respect Where you know me? Sprang Pull up jumpshot Fade away sprang Sprang, sprang, sprang, sprang, sprang, sprang sprang Sprang, sprang, sprang, sprang, sprang [groans.]
This shit is wack as fuck! Ah, come on, man.
It ain't all that bad.
Why, man? 'Cause we still getting paid? Man, fuck the club! Could have stayed at home and finished "Amadeus" and had a better time, man.
- [muttering.]
Well, that's true.
- Look, man.
Marcus Miles over there getting all the cream, man, hogging all the hos.
Fuck him too! Marcus Miles is pretty cool, man.
You know he got that invisible car? What? [scoffs.]
Nigga, no he don't.
He do.
It's like a prototype, something like look.
Man, that That shit ain't real, man.
Come on, man.
Chill out, man, look.
We can turn this thing around.
Like, uh look.
That girl right there.
She been looking this way all night.
All right, and I know she ain't looking at me.
Well, how you figure she want me though? 'Cause she would have been notice this creepy look I've been giving her.
Well, we bout to find out.
Hey! Hey, who want to party with Team Paper Boi? [cheers.]
- Bottles on me! - [cheers.]
- Yeah! Here! - That's what I'm saying! Whoo-hoo! Come on to the other side.
Hello, hello, hello.
This VIP, welcome, welcome, welcome.
[indistinct talking.]
Hey, there you go, what happened? I turned around, you were gone.
Yeah, I lost you in the crowd, man.
That's all good, man.
You want a shot? No, I I hate shots.
Okay, can we just finish the financial aspect of this? I got you.
Just let me take these drinks to my ladies and we'll finish up, all right? Follow me.
Ladies, this is Earn.
Hey, what's up? Um.
No thanks.
No, it's cool, I'm I'm friends with Chris.
We don't know him either.
I hate shots, man.
[Crime Mob's "Knuck If You Buck" playing.]
Oh, I I'll be back.
Excuse me.
Coming through, coming through.
Hey, man, uh, can you help me out? No problem, player.
Thank you, player.
Have you ever had to throw out another bouncer? - Yeah.
- How was it? Hard.
- He knew all the moves.
- Hmm.
- There's the guy.
- Here I am.
I'm gonna go watch people smoke.
See ya.
[mumbles indistinctly.]
Excuse me.
[muffled club music.]
[toilet flushes.]
Sup, Chris.
What happened, man? What happened was you slippery as fuck, Chris.
And I want my money, now.
All right, man.
Just relax.
Let me finish up.
Gonna wash your hands? No.
Yo, what up? I'm back.
VIP only.
Come on, man.
You got a wristband? Yeah.
Right here.
- It's purple.
- So? So to get in this section, you need a yellow one.
Oh, well uh I don't have a yellow one, but I do have this purple one and this red one.
I don't know what a red one's for.
Me neither.
I can't help you, man.
Come on, man, you literally just let me out of here.
Remember, we did the fist bump and everything and none of that don't mean shit to you? This is meaningless.
[Dreezy's "Body" featuring Jeremih playing.]
Let me get a Hennessy.
Want something? Laphroaig.
You really going for my pockets, huh? I earned it.
Thanks, honey.
Yo body on my body, baby I'm about to catch a body in here baby The fuck? [laughing.]
I'm sorry, but that was awesome.
You saw you saw that, right? - Yes.
- Fuck, he Hilarious.
You should see your face right now.
Thank you.
Thanks You're awesome.
Thank you for for being awesome.
Love it.
You ain't got to get so sensitive.
I hate shots.
I hate the club; I hate people at the club, I hate This shit is pointless, it's like a money suck.
Can I give you some advice? Sure.
No one is keeping you here.
But if you're at the club, that means you deep down want to be at the club.
You're not special.
To be fair, you don't look the usual type.
What's the usual type? That guy.
Excuse me, sir.
You need to move up out of here.
We don't do that in here.
Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait - so you hit his car? - Uh, yeah.
- No - I had to.
So then I go back and sit in my car - Mm-hmm.
- and I'm crying.
- Well, fake crying.
- [cracks up.]
[both laugh.]
And the guy comes up to me and he's like, [as man.]
"Damn, I was gonna let you go, baby girl, but my car's fucked up!" Oh, no.
No no, you know what? - Whatever to that nigga, man.
- Whatever.
- Hey you want to get a photo? - Mm-hmm.
Let's get a phot Hey, hey! Hey, hey! Nigga, hey, hey, hey, where you going, Ansel Adams? Man, you don't want to get a exclusive photo of Team Paper Boi? No, I'm good, man.
Man, look.
You sure? Marcus Miles got his pet peacock here tonight.
And it's got a leather jacket on.
That's front-page news.
Nice shoes, bro.
[camera snaps.]
Yeah, man.
To that nigga, man? Whatever man.
Hell, let's let's toast it up, man.
- Yeah.
- Toast it up.
See, he's tell them some bullshit about how VIP is at capacity but he can hook them up.
See, there are four of them, but he says he only has two wristbands.
See, if only two go, they feel special.
They have a better time.
Everyone needs to feel special sometimes.
Even if it's some janky nigga telling your two friends they can't come in.
Why do you think porn exists? Wow.
You were Marxist until you got kind of sexist.
Then why am why am I here? Tell me that.
The same reason everyone else is here.
To feel good about yourself and stunt.
[imitates buzzer.]
I'm here for work.
You want to make more money to feel good about yourself like everyone else.
And you're stunting by playing like, "Oh, I came here to handle business like a boss.
" No no.
No Don't be an asshole okay? You asked.
All right, then, I guess I'll just take the check, Tiresias.
You better tip.
Hey, Ken.
What's up, hon? You want the regular? Fire alarm.
[muffled club music.]
- That nigga called the cops on me.
- What? And that wasn't even the crazy part.
- Oh, come on.
- Then he goes, "Oh, shit, my gun", runs back to his car an stashes it in the bushes.
Damn, girl, you wasn't scared? Scared for what? The cops was on their way.
I straight told on his ass.
Oh, I was just gonna top you off, big dog.
No, no, no, I I can top myself off, dude.
- I got you.
- I can top myself off, man! Who the hell are you? I'm a promoter, man.
Well, actually actually, I'm a rapper from Harlem, you know.
You know A$AP Rocky? Well, I don't know any of them, but I went to school with Janice.
Isn't that? Yo, I got I got a CD that's about to drop too, man.
I got like four followers on MySpace [voices blur indistinctly.]
[club sounds blur indistinctly.]
[glass knocks over.]
Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo.
He cool, man, he with me.
Nigga, who are you? Hey.
Hey! All you niggas, get the fuck out of my section! Get up, let's go! Hey hey hey, wait you you, hey, come on.
Come on, not y'all, y'all cool.
Come on back here.
Okay, girl, let's go.
'Cause Marcus Miles' section is over there with the bottles.
No-no-no-no-no, I'm bout to get bottles right now.
Hey, hey! Sweetheart! Yeah, over here.
Ladies and gentlemen, ladies and gentlemen, Marcus Miles has just bought the entire bar tonight! [cheers and applause.]
So we will no longer be serving drinks.
All: What? He owns all the liquor in the club, and, uh, I think he's leaving.
[crowd murmuring.]
- Hey, fuck you! - So [indistinct talking.]
You broke! [lighter clicks.]
No, I could hook it up.
[R&B music over radio.]
Bro, what are you doing in here? I want m [barfs.]
I want my money.
I want my $5,000.
Oh, you mean your $750? W what? Let me explain something to you.
You know what it takes to run a club? The expenses? Well, let's do some math.
We paid for the flyers.
And then your boy exceeded his alcohol order limit.
And then we had to pay for extra security because Paper Boi's a thug.
And that's not cheap.
And then, he was supposed to perform.
- What? No.
- Yeah.
He was supposed to perform.
So all in all, you guys get $750.
And that's me being nice.
Nigga, that wasn't the deal, man Hey, don't start that with me, motherfucker, 'cause I don't play that shit.
That's what I'm paying you.
Now, you better check your tone and get the fuck up out of my office before I go get the heater.
I don't care.
No one to love me I don't care.
No one to think of me I don't care.
No one Damn, this shit lame.
It ain't even 2:00 a.
- Yeah, this is so wack.
- [chuckles.]
But at least it wasn't a complete loss.
I met a cool-ass nigga.
Me? Well, hold up, okay? Hold up, baby.
[phone rings.]
[video game playing over TV.]
Hey, man, were you go? We leaving.
Yo, I'm already at the crib, bro.
What? Mm-hmm.
I guess I had on the wrong color wristband or something.
Now I'm on this Zoo Tycoon.
Nigerians, man.
Hey, hey, Janice hey.
Hey, man, let me call you back, all right? Yep.
Hey-hey-hey-hey-hey-hey, baby.
Hey, wait, wait-wait-wait-wait-wait.
Let's exchange information or something.
You can follow me on Instagram.
Come on.
- Well, I have a boyfriend.
- [laughs.]
Wait, what? Oh.
That's so sweet.
I'm for real gonna check out your music on SoundCloud.
Come on.
Are you serious? [sighs.]
A boyfriend? So you been wasting my time this entire night then? Wasting your time? Wait We had a good time, right? That's why you came here.
To party with cute girls like me and have a good time.
We did that.
Yo, what the fuck! [groans.]
Hey hey, man.
Hey, where you been? Look, we need to get out of this club before I punch somebody in the face.
Man, you get our money? Earn.
Man, he fucked us, man, like he He only gave us $750, man.
I'm sorry, man I just don't scare people like you, man.
Like, niggas know I drink juice and shit.
Fuck that! We getting our fucking money, man.
What's up, Earn? Nigga, what's up, Swiff, what are you doing here? You know sweaty-ass Tony, it's that nigga birthday man.
Ah, no, nigga ah Let's go! [Baby Huey's "Hard Times" plays.]
Okay, this nigga in my ear.
- Just follow, just follow.
- Oh shit.
Cold, cold eyes upon me they stare People all around me and they're all in fear They don't seem to want me but they won't admit I must be some kind of [screams.]
Oh, shit.
Where my money, nigga? Man, I gave Earn your money.
- [blow lands.]
- Damn! Where's my fucking money, man? - Please! I can write you a check.
- Nigga, do I look like a bank? I don't take fucking checks! - Oh! - [indistinct shouts.]
- Where's my money at? - I got it all right here, man.
- Just take it, just take it.
- Shit.
This is gangsta.
Yeah, nigga.
- [slap lands.]
- Oh! Shit! Damn! - Hey, yo.
- Come on, man.
We got to dip now.
Hey, man, you should really practice better business habits.
- Shit out the door.
- Really man? Oh, my God.
You all right? [pants.]
That boy's gonna be a star.
Man call the police! He talked to you like, don't "I don't take checks.
" - No, wilin-ass looking nigga.
- I don't take checks.
[both laugh.]
Yo, dude, I thought he was gonna die.
I told you I don't like the club, bro.
- Yo, we just like - I mean.
- Shit was fire, man.
- [chuckles.]
We should get some food, though, man, let's get out of here.
- No, man, I'm so hungry.
- I know.
I want like, a, a waffle and like a chicken sausage so bad.
What you gonna do with that chicken sausage? - Tear it up, man.
- Tear it up.
- That's some gay-ass shit.
- Man, I'll - I'll gobble it.
- [laughs.]
Gobble it, swallow the whole thing, man.
- Shit, man.
- [indistinct shouts.]
Man oh, this nigga's getting in here? The fuck is happening? - Hey! - Oh, damn.
- Oh, shit! - [people screaming.]
Go, Earn, man! Go, go, go, go! [tires screech.]
[engine revving.]
- [laughs.]
- Oh, my God.
- Yo, that shit was so crazy.
- Yo, man.
I heard them gunshots and I just went into survival mode, boy.
- I was like - Yeah, I bet you did.
You see that man? He just blew that dude's brains out.
Wait, wait, so that was Marcus Miles? Both: No, no.
- Man - Well, who was it? Wait, I missed something.
Who was it, was it Marcus Oh! Oh, ow, it's so hot.
It's so hot.
- Nigga, you drunk.
- [laughs.]
[over TV.]
Tonight on Channel 5 News, a man was shot in an altercation at local area nightclub, Primal.
And popular Atlanta rapper Paper Boi is wanted for questioning about an armed robbery at the same establishment.
[news theme music.]
Fuck the club.
[Little Beaver's "I Can Dig It, Baby" plays.]
Whoo-hoo Hey babe You say you want to go out And haveyourself a little fun Well, I can dig it baby
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