♪ He's dynamite ♪
♪ So dynamite ♪
♪ Ooohhh, ooohhh ♪
♪ Ooohhh ♪
♪ Ahhhh ♪
♪ He's dynamite ♪
♪ Dy-no, dy-no ♪
♪ Ooohhh, ooohhh ♪
♪ Oooohhhh ♪
♪ Dynamite! Dynamite! ♪
This week...
Ho!
Hyah!
Ho!
Hyah!
Huah!
Ow! Ugh!
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 really 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, Congress 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 fuck.
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'ma do? Huh? Huh?
What I'ma do?
Don't you shut that off and give me the bait!
Freeze, Tasty Freeze!
Shit!
Aaaah!
Tasty Freeze, how many times has Black Dynamite
talked to you about selling drugs in his community?
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!
And without base, I'm just a head.
They fuckin' up my whole identity, Black Dynamite!
I ain't got time for this, Basehead.
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.
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 were so cheap,
it was easy to turn a profit, and Black people didn't
even wanna 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 base head!
Okay, then, tell me... What's happening with all this
new found 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?
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.
♪ Dynamite! Dynamite! ♪
This can't be true.
They should have killed each 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 fucking 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 go 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 gotta 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 gonna 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 wanna be my bottom bitch
with my head looking like this!
What ho is gonna bottom-bitch
for a Fisher-Price pimp like you in the first place, 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' motherfucker.
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, and 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 real high in your own community somewhere
and you can let us get back to enjoying
our drug-free block fair?
Uh, what you say?
Hyah!
Aaah!
Now, get up against that there wall and spread your legs.
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 motherfucker 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 motherfucker 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!
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 on. - Now, hold on one second.
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 shit 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 ♪
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!
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, that's what I'ma say they did.
♪ Dynamite! Dynamite! ♪
Elvis! Don't you die on me! Don't you die on me!
You got everything to live for!
Yeah, like a new little bald-headed bitch.
I'm tellin' you! I'ma 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 CIA,
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 base head. 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 base head 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 it'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 shitted in 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 God 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.
Aah! Look what you done did to my damn head!
Well, screw you, too! You was always jealous of my hair!
Com on over here. 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 a bunch of dumb-ass rednecks, huh?
If that's Elvis, prove it.
Hah! Whoo! Work it out, baby!
Get it! Unh!
Uh-oh.
Bubba, I think these colored fellas done killed our King.
- Get 'em! - Oh, hell no!
Go, go, go, go, go!
They comin'! They comin'!
Get up off me!
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.
Whoa!
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!
Aaaaah!
Base! How low could you go?
Damn it!
Aah!
You can't kill a Basehead!
Aaaaaaaah!
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?!
Ugh!
Aaaaah!
There ain't nothing 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!
Okay, 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 motherfucking 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, motherfucker.
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?
Shit. Stop the countdown, Kissinger.
The fat fuck 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 shit wake myself to death.
Here... you want a?
Long live your king, Tricky Dick.
Long live your king.
♪ Dynamite! Dynamite! ♪
Damn! Damn! Damn!!
Poof!