Woman: This is an emergency.
This is an emergency.
Man: Homicides in Chicago, Illinois,
have surpassed the death toll
of American special forces in Iraq.
Over 400 school-aged kids have been shot this year.
On the weekend of July 4th, 2015,
American independence day,
55 people were shot and wounded
and 10 were murdered,
including a seven-year-old boy.
Where was their freedom?
Where was their right to life, Liberty,
and the pursuit of happiness?
These overwhelming numbers of homicides
are committed by young black males
against young black males.
Heaven help us all.
Man: All right, peace out.
- Cairo! - What's up, what's up?
What's up, man? You good? You good?
We good, we good. What up?
Whoa, whoa, whoa, back up. Back the fuck up.
Come on, man. Come on, son.
Why you want to do that?
Chi-raq! Chi-raq!
In the year 411 bc--
that's before baby Jesus, y'all--
the Greek aristophanes penned a play
satirizing his day.
And in the style of his time,
'stophanes made that shit rhyme.
Transplanted today, we retain his verse
to show our love for the universe.
But warning! You gonna see some pain!
But that's only natural, 'cause it involves the gangs.
So before i unfreeze these gs,
like the stats you heard before--
people, people, people,
we can't take too much more!
Chi-raq! Chi-raq! Chi-raq!
Chi-raq! Chi-raq!
Man: Everybody make some noise!
Hey, all y'all.
Yeah!
- Yo, what's up? - Man: What up, my boy?
- T-money! - Yeah!
Woman: I love you, baby.
On my soul, this is my city.
Rest in peace, cyclops.
- I'm sprung. - Yup.
I told you! I told you!
Man: Oh, shit, what the fuck you doing?
Man, get the fuck out of my way!
Don't shoot! That's my man!
- Back the fuck up! - Oh, shit!
Back the fuck up! Back the fuck up!
Tonight was mad hectic, yo.
Shit, I respect it.
My little nigga t-money took that hit.
Better be glad it was just a flesh wound and shit,
'cause when my gun go boom,
I make sure a trojan end up in the next room and shit.
Spartans ain't never lacking. We attacking in this bitch.
I swear to god, i emptied out a whole extendo clip.
Ho-ass trojans wanna trip over some text message bullshit?
Three dudes all shot up behind some text messages?
- No question. - You know I was scared for you and me both.
Girl, you know your nigga is invincible.
They want to kill me, them motherfuckers better bring a iram missile.
Fuck them niggas from Troy town.
I've been waiting all night to take your fine ass down.
You ready for daddy to smash that cake?
Shit, I've got that long d.
I know your ass can't wait.
Freaky-deaky all up in that butt.
Come on, girl, let's bust this nut, mm!
It don't get no gooder.
Girl, you finer than granulated sugar.
Guess I better press my luck.
You just like my credit, bad as fuck.
We could've got killed.
I gotta look at that tonight?
Out of sight.
I got another pistol that's gonna make everything a'ight.
Just make sure it's loaded.
You know what I like.
You outside, no fun.
And he inside getting some.
You feel? Spit your lick.
Come on, man. Spartans, yo.
- No.
No music? No nothing?
Nothing but the beat of the headboard bumping
when my third leg go thumping.
Slow down.
You gotta bring me the romance.
Then maybe, like biggie,
I give your ass one more chance.
Okay, okay.
Well, like 'pac say,
I can't wait to get you home,
- get you all alone. - Mm-hmm.
Get you home in my bedroom.
Maybe we could bone and get it on.
Got a lot of thug in me.
I wanna put it in you.
Hey, goofy, why do I stay with you?
Because you know chi-raq will make you stammer
when I crack your back with this spartan hammer.
Chi, bang it.
Woman: Oh, chi.
Oh, chi!
You smell something?
Yeah. S-e-x.
What's that? What's that?
What the fuck?
Oh, shit!
Fuck.
Come on, motherfucker!
Get out of here!
Man: Burn, baby.
Please, baby.
Disco inferno.
Go, go, go!
Go, go! Trojans! Go!
- You dead, nigga! - You missed me!
On my mama, you dead, old-ass motherfucker!
Call the fire department!
Somebody call the fire department!
What are you looking at?
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing!
- Morning, tootie! - Hey, hey!
Hey, lysistrata! What it do?
What's up, spinna?
Man: Wake up!
Hey, dolmedes!
Welcome to chi-raq,
the land of pain, misery, and strife.
Folks, our windy city been filleted
with a king-size butcher knife.
Like a monster from outer space,
the great state of drillanois
has been hit by a murderous, big-ass killeroid.
And that's real shit,
where the big moneymaker is the black suit undertaker.
But don't pity our pain.
Might ain't always right, ain't you heard?
And this coming from a natural man.
Baby, you've come face-to-face
with the super bad Mr. dolmedes.
My black ass was on the first box of wheaties.
I was raised up in a pail of rusted nails,
ran buck naked through golf ball-sized hail,
was weaned on thunderbird from my mama's titty.
Kicked ass from coast to coast
till both shoe toes were shitty.
Chewed up electric lines and pissed out lightning bolts.
Hit Godzilla so hard, it gave mothra's daddy a jolt.
Sank the Titanic with a frozen turd,
then won 10 grammys and didn't sing or rap
one goddamn motherfucking word.
Now, I told you about the signifying monkey and rapped about shine,
but this here tale of two cities
is one of a kind.
It all started with a gorgeous nubian sister.
Baby so fine, she made George Zimmerman
and Darren Wilson wanna kiss her.
As tough as coffy and sexy as foxy brown.
Hell, Beyoncé Knowles herself even had to bow down.
They call her lysistrata,
a woman like no other.
This chocolate brown sister
was finer than a motherfucker.
She could put fear in a pit bull,
made Bruce Lee flee, knocked out Frazier and Ali,
then ran money Mayweather up a sycamore tree.
With a mind like Einstein
- and a truly... - Yo, what's up, girl?
...luscious behind,
that gal put gap-goody hurting
on all mankind.
Drive-by. Spartans and trojans beefing.
Little girl, Patti, wrong place, wrong time.
Messed up.
Barbara, you see the shooter?
Woman: Behind the yellow tape. Know what I'm saying?
Behind the yellow tape.
Man: Oh, boy.
Somebody called me to tell me--
- ma'am, please. - What happened?
- What's going on? - Ma'am.
My baby. That's my baby.
Ma'am, please.
Is that my...
- Is that-- what happened? - Ma'am...
You have to go down to the morgue
for identification, ma'am.
But that's my baby.
Is that my--
- Patti! - You can't cross the line, ma'am.
Please.
Did y'all see something?
You ain't seen nothing?
Ain't nobody out here seen nothing?
And I can't even get to my own child!
- I'm sorry, ma'am. - What happened? Don't touch me!
You don't even deserve to look at my child's body
laying right there on this ground!
None of you!
You gonna get your day, lysistrata.
You and your damn boyfriend.
You got what's coming.
I want you to look at her.
Look at her right there.
That's a seven-- a little baby!
A baby!
A baby.
I can't take this no more.
Man: Your daughter's in heaven.
Woman: Because it could be you next time!
Will you be standing around looking then?
This nothing has nowhere to go.
Welcome to my home.
Come on in. Come on.
Woman: Why don't you move in with that boy of yours,
machine gun Kelly?
Wouldn't be safe.
I suppose he'll be gunning for who set that fire.
Y'all make my tired ass tired.
There are children here in englewood.
Does that mean anything to you?
Running up the street, shooting and killing.
Do you care at all?
- Maybe I should leave. - No. Sit.
Stay.
You're gonna deal with this today.
You don't have any family?
No, ma'am.
I'm an orphan.
My moms put me up for adoption at birth.
I grew up moving from one group home to another.
Hmm.
Lord help you, child.
Where's your flat-screen?
Malcolm X once said
the best way to hide something from negroes
is to put it in a book.
Well, I can dig it, miss Helen.
You sure got mad books.
Books are my life.
My life for books.
You always live here?
No. I lived in cabrini-green back when it was clean,
before they knocked it down.
Oh, a lot of black folk got gentrified across town.
- Who's this? - My daughter Pam.
- Let me guess. 10? - That's right.
Fifth grade class picture.
Girl, come away from that window.
- Hurry. - It's chi-raq.
Woman: Oh, my god!
Chi-raq.
I hate that name. It's not who we are.
Chicago always been a straight up gangsta town.
We are not chi-raq.
So what you call all these shootings?
Crime? Doing time?
It's not just about Chicago.
What about bodymore, murderland?
Killa-delphia, city of brotherly murder?
Bucktown-- Brooklyn, New York.
So many people getting shot, hospital's going broke.
I mean, you got to get on the e-way.
People dying en route.
They can't even file a lawsuit.
I mean, there still ain't no trauma centers here on the south side.
There was a time in the summer when it got hot.
Your child could go outside and play and not get shot.
- Oh, I don't remember that time. - It existed.
I'm sorry, miss Helen, but it's a war zone out here.
The us spends money on the Iraqi people,
to train them, govern them,
help them build an economy--
billions and billions in dollars.
The Afghan people, too.
They don't do economic development like that here on the south side.
See, Americans like war.
They like guns.
- Fun and games. - Fun and games?
Ask the parents at Sandy hook.
When they murder white babies and things don't change,
saving black life is way out of range.
I keep thinking about that mother that lost her child.
You should.
- This boy you with. - Chi-raq?
- What? - That's what they call him.
Wait a minute, now. Hold on.
They call him chi-raq?
Yes, ma'am.
Lord, have mercy!
He's a rapper.
I mean, gonna be big-time famous.
You really never heard of him?
I heard he was a leader in this gang mess, girl.
Whoa, miss Helen, now, they don't say "gang" anymore.
They say "organization."
What is his real name?
His government name?
Nah.
Demetrius.
Demetrius dupree.
His father?
All chi's told me is that he died in prison.
He's got a good heart deep down inside.
I love him.
I can change chi.
Darling,
people change when they decide to change.
You make it sound so easy.
All you can do is create an environment for change.
Like an alcoholic, you take away his booze.
You just try taking away their guns.
All right, well, what else do they love?
Uh... getting turnt up, making money.
What else?
Um...
Yeah, well.
Mm-hmm.
Pick up your phone.
Google.
Lysistrata: "Leymah Roberta gbowee
is a liberian peace activist
responsible for leading a women's peace movement
that helped bring an end
to the second liberian civil war in 2003."
You go and do it.
Woman: Irene, your daughter is another victim
to the senseless violence here in englewood
on the south side of Chicago.
What do you want people to know?
- What can people do? - Irene: You know...
These babies don't ask to be caught up in the middle of this.
They don't. If y'all know anything,
if you've seen anything, heard anything,
please, do something.
Say something.
Where's your heart?
What's up, girlfriend?
You unhappy staying at miss Helen's crib?
You know how old people live.
That ain't the thing, rasheeda.
- I'm on fire. - Burn, baby, burn.
We agreed to hook up, make this plan.
Where the females at, huh?
Laid up with some man.
- Oh, no. - Lysistrata: Hell, no.
Hell, no!
- Marcy! Tee-tee! - It was today?
Damn right it was today.
You know I was waiting on a line from Jackson.
He's in Afghan seeing action.
Waiting on his call, i went to the mall.
Little man wanted some cap'n crunch.
He eat it for breakfast, maybe lunch.
Get in the damn car. Sorry, Eddie.
- Whose crib this be? - Indigo.
Indigo?
Isn't that cyclops's main squeeze?
Cyclops' bae?
Yo, I got on purple.
She a woman, we all black women.
That's the matter at hand, sista.
Yeah, yeah, I can dig your sista app,
but make sure they don't bust no caps.
- Can I help you? - Lysistrata: 'Sup, indigo?
You covergirl clean.
That figure brick shithouse mean!
Mm-hmm, this about who set your house on fire?
- What y'all tired strags want? - Man, what y'all want?
Hey, man, chill with that shrill before i whup your butt, slut!
- Yo!
I got a kid with me, y'all. Relax.
- Peace! Peace and hair grease! - Calm down.
- Check your girl! - Check her!
Check the ignorance.
- We all sistas here. - Bitch, I ain't your sista.
- This my running partner dania and my Ace boon coon hecuba. - What?
- And I know you know Kenya the rapper. - Lysistrata: Nah.
I ain't putting out fear, so what y'all trying to steer?
God forbid cyclops find y'all spartan tricks up in here.
Everybody here got a man in the orange and purple colors,
banging and slanging, fighting for the flag,
risking that long zip of the cadaver bag.
- It's how we live. - It's how we die.
You wanna lose your man to a drive-by?
In a pine box 'fore he's 25?
- I lost my cousin. - And I lost my little brother.
I lost my nephew.
My uncle got killed two weeks ago,
and like always, nobody saw nothing.
All to the bang-bang.
All: Bang, bang.
We've all lost people, too, many a sister and brother.
Now, I'd like to see cyclops and chi
put down that mess between the trojans and the greeks,
but that day looks bleak.
What if we could devise a method
to end the bloodshed?
Yo, count on me. You need money?
I'll pawn all the gold around my neck,
then get turnt up till I'm a wreck.
Hey!
I am ready to split myself
up the middle, give you half.
I'm down for the cause, but how?
We force our men to negotiate peace
by exercising cocksure self-control
and total abstinence from knocking the boots.
I never did like y'all trojan chickenheads any goddamn way--
- oh, no! - Yeah, you heard me!
- Get up out of here. - Y'all kicking us out?
Get out of here. Shoot 'em up.
Trojans: Bang, bang.
Please, please, just sit down.
We ain't gonna be that long. Rasheeda, shut the fuck up.
Give me one more minute.
Hey, I got my son with me.
I gotta go.
Marcy, this has to do with your son.
Just a minute ago, you was ready
to split yourself up the middle.
Go ahead, so y'all spartans can get out of here.
I just saw a mother weeping in the streets,
her baby's blood spilt.
Man, you really think something like that could bring peace?
Y'all know the power we have over them
withholding just a day.
- A week? - You're right.
- Ooh. - Imagine a month.
A year!
Oh, they gonna bring the peace!
Suppose-- suppose that the men just dump us.
If we all hold out, who can they go to?
All: The thots.
Them hos over there!
Well, we will enlist them, too.
If we want our men alive,
we want our babies to thrive,
we gonna have to organize.
Repeat after me.
I will deny all rights
of access or entrance...
Women: I will deny all rights
of access or entrance...
...from every husband,
lover, or male acquaintance...
Women: ...From every husband,
lover, or male acquaintance...
...who comes to my direction in erection.
Women: ...Who comes to my direction in erection.
Uh, come on. Say it!
- Come on. - Girl, I can't--
- I can't do this. No! - Come on!
If he should force me to lay on that conjugal couch...
Women: If he should force me to lay on that conjugal couch...
...i will refuse his stroke
and not give up that nappy pouch.
Women: ...I will refuse his stroke
and not give up that nappy pouch.
No peace?
All: No pussy!
Ah!
The red wine has been drunk.
The plan is now struck.
Dolmedes must tell you fellas,
y'all about to get punked.
Lysistrata had them all take a solemn oath.
Stop the murder madness
or there would be no more pokes.
Some even thought the shit was a hoax.
How could them females give up the long dick and the downstroke?
This must be some bullshit!
Ain't no fucking way!
But y'all about to find out
these gals don't play.
No more poonani, nookie-pie,
beehive, or honeybun.
No coochie, no nappy dugout.
That's right. You gets none.
Men: Say what?
Chi-raq: To be so damn smart,
you know you're tweaking, right?
You lame as hell, playing games for real
with this wack-ass panty strike,
and that's that shit we don't like.
You wanna choose to be rude?
Bitches gonna be tight when you make 'em lose they dudes.
I don't know who you think you're trying to change.
I'm trojan through and through.
That's stronger than any damn screw.
It's even bigger than you.
All you care about is this tired gangsta game.
Well, it's lame!
You think you'll die with fame?
Negro, two days later,
no one will even remember your name.
Your machismo is really masochism.
That's why I'm cutting off your jism.
As long as you love the life more than a wife,
we strike.
Why you so frigid?
Why don't you let me thaw you out
with this ice pick?
You know you can't resist a chocolate lick.
Chill out.
Your next move is your best move,
and it gonna be smoo--
fine. Remember that little kiddie rhyme.
369, indigo drank wine.
Made the chicks walk that no sex line.
But the line broke, and them bitches choked.
And lysistrata and her former friends
got replaced by some tighter pokes.
Bye.
- Be... - Safe!
What's happening with the jump-off, bacchos?
We got the cheese. Where the nachos?
Spartans trying to have the club on lock, yo!
It's rough out here!
It's Saturday night. We getting tight?
Not tonight.
Ain't no partying, no dancing, no getting down.
- Why? - Ain't a broad to be had.
Just a bunch of hardheads going stag.
It's the same all over town.
Clubs is closing down.
Man, these womens have vanished.
Even the hos is no-shows.
What the fuck is this, though?
What the hell?
I'll be goddamned.
What the--
shee...
Eee...
Eee... it.
All right, peep this.
I got 30 girls stripping for me,
another five on loan, and not one of them,
not one of them is answering their goddamn phone.
This shit is wack.
Yeah, I mean, at this time of the night,
the champagne room would be full of life.
Young boys putting dollar bills
in the drawers of all my pretty thrills.
Cyclops, we have been struck by a plague
that will put that biblical pestilence shit to shame.
And this famine only affects the lower regions
where all you young trojans do most of your thinking.
I mean, this is the male side of the aisle.
If you can't squeeze it, you at least wanna--
wanna-- you know, tease it.
Oh, but-- but-- but these hos have literally
shut down the penis power grid.
So my question to y'all
is what you motherfuckers done did?
Huh?
The situation's out of control,
'cause I'm in front of an empty stripper pole!
But you still got soul, so you know your pole is-- is gold.
Cyclops. Cyclops, keep your eye on me.
Yo, we got you, Morris. Don't worry about this, man.
I got this. Know what I'm saying?
I got it between my crosshairs, nah?
What you need is another eye.
There's not even half an ass to look at.
One of these days, man, you know,
you're gonna get tired of them one-eye jokes and shit.
Sorry, man, I'm a little uptight
because there ain't no pussy in the club tonight.
Where's yours on standby?
I can't sell standby.
I need some active duty, first-class, "va-Gina."
You need active duty... Booty?
Active duty... Booty.
I'm glad you can find humor in this.
Sometimes that shit just come to me. I don't even know how, man.
You know what, man?
I would like to have somebody on that pole tonight.
Beast, pole, baby.
It's not that kind of club, young man.
Hey, man, go and get on the pole.
What kind of insubordination is this shit?
- Oh, no, we got it, boss. - You need all you can get, mo!
- Relax, I got this. - Get yours, son.
- Yeah, do that shit. - Do that spin, do that spin.
- Whoo! - Yeah, that's right.
- Yeah! - Oh.
Hey, yo, big Thelma, where you going?
The us Virgin Islands,
a place my girls ain't never seen.
Well, where your girls be at?
My bitches told me to go,
say they're honoring the strike.
Say they don't care who likes.
- A ho strike? - Shit, yeah.
Good thing I'm a dyke.
Can you believe this shit?
Yeah!
Glory!
We don't mourn like other people!
Praise him! Praise him!
Can I get a "glory"?
Crowd: Glory!
- Can I get an "amen"? - Crowd: Amen!
I'm gonna talk about a life today.
An important life...
In our community.
A life...
That ends life.
The life...
Of a gun.
- Man: Ah, yeah. - Miss Helen: Oh, mercy! Mercy.
- Woman: Oh. - Woman #2: That's right!
This gun began its professional career
when it was purchased by tiny Tony from Chicago
at an Indiana gun show
using a fake Indiana ID
and bypassed all of our strict gun laws.
Chicago gangs
buy the guns for big money...
Miss Helen: Break it down.
- For their work... - Mm-hmm.
In the underground economy.
Miss Helen: Tell the truth!
That's right.
The underground economy exists
because banks and lending institutions
rarely loan money to poor people.
Is that right?
Right. Say it!
Their children, however, admire the thug life.
But they do so from the safety of suburban Chicago!
- That's right! - Kenilworth, wilmette, highland park.
No, no, no, no.
This gun wouldn't be caught dead there.
This gun is the principal player
in a reality TV urban murder show
that can be seen every night at 5:00 and 10:00,
every channel, on any news show you wanna watch.
And that's when this gun...
Met our child Patti.
- Patti. - Woman: Yeah! Yeah!
Patti is gone...
Because our politicians are in the pocket
of the national rifle association!
They have become their mouthpieces
or silent co-conspirators!
Patti is gone...
Because of an economy that has abandoned the poor.
Downtown they say unemployment is 5.7%.
How's that sound?
Right here in auburn gresham,
unemployment is 21%!
And that doesn't even count people who have given up hope
and stopped looking for work.
The per capita income is $12,000!
42% of us live below the poverty line.
30% don't have a high school diploma.
What America are they living in?
Yes!
We go from third-rate schools
to first-class high-tech prisons.
Mass incarceration is the new Jim crow!
Our Patti is gone
because gang members are more concerned
with popping pills and popping bottles,
more concerned with what's on YouTube!
Woman: Say it, father Mike!
More concerned with ego, street cred, and greed
than a human life.
Patti's gone because guns have become
a part of America's wardrobe.
Woman: Preach, father Mike!
Where it is easier to get a gun than a computer.
Sirens and gunshots
are our soundtrack.
Yellow police tape, Teddy bears,
t-shirts, balloons--
these are the national memorials of our neighborhoods.
And it doesn't look good.
Man: Take your time!
Woman: Preach!
It didn't look good...
When the sky turned dark
and the sun refused to shine
and the earth began to quake
and they laid Jesus's lifeless body
at the arms of mother Mary!
Woman: Yeah! Preach!
And I don't need to go back to biblical times!
It didn't look good in a Birmingham church
when four little girls were blown apart by hate!
It didn't look good when medgar was laying
bleeding to death in his driveway.
It didn't look good when Malcolm was shot down on the audubon stage!
And it didn't look good when Martin Luther King
stood on the balcony of the Lorraine motel
outside room 306
and at 6:03 was taken from us!
And, no, it doesn't look good!
Not when Patti was lost on a busy street
with folks going to work and school,
with cars passing by!
How is it possible?
How is it possible
that not one witness has come forward?
Not one!
How is it possible that no one has the courage
and the conscience to speak up for this family!
Somebody knows!
Somebody, help me!
Somebody!
Somebody knows!
Cynics say, "well, if I snitch, I'll be killed, too."
First of all, when a murderer walks free,
we are all in danger!
But if multiple folks come forward,
multiple folks who witnessed these murders,
there is no one target!
What makes someone a target is not the shooter.
Man: That's right!
What makes someone a target is the community
that surrenders to fear...
Woman: Yes!
...and becomes silent.
That's why we at St. Sabina
must put out a $5,000 reward
for information leading to the arrest
of Patti's killer or any killer!
Because we need to say loud and clear,
"you cannot murder our children!"
You cannot murder our children,
then go back to the crib, turn on "sportscenter,"
eat a whopper and fries, and act like nothing ever happened.
We will not allow this self-inflicted genocide to continue.
This is a disgrace! This is a disgrace!
Patti lives! Patti lives!
And Patti will have justice!
- Do you have faith? - Crowd: Yes!
- Do you want justice? - Yes!
Are you willing to get up and walk?
- Yes! - Get up!
Hope wins!
Peace wins!
- Goodness... - Wins!
- Righteousness... - Wins!
- Love! - Wins!
- - All right, father Mike!
What up, what up?
Man, you got a lot of stuff out here on this table.
You got everything going, don't you?
Pssh.
Man, you got the Lane and you're blowing?
That's too much, man.
Yeah, just trying to keep my mind off that bullshit.
Spinner: Man, I don't want you to be fucked up like me, man.
Walk around being in a chair.
Can't move your legs.
Got to wear a motherfucking undergarment.
Fucking shitting and pissing on yourself for nothing.
Got to put these damn braces on,
these motherfuckers, every day.
These are reminders. And for what?
If I wanna throw the "s" up?
Man, you gotta-- we gotta wake up, man.
Look at me, man.
Fucking tired of this shit, man.
Gave my whole life to this shit,
and I ain't got nothing in return.
This shit here, this trojan-spartan shit,
man, we gotta-- we gotta slow this shit down, man.
My son got shot. He in a wheelchair now.
Quadriplegic.
Cat just stood over him, capped him.
- - 14 times.
For what?
Man, this ain't living. This ain't life.
Chi, we gotta do something different, bro.
We gotta do something different.
I don't wake up every day to get high,
to cry, go to funerals.
Ain't you tired of this shit, man?
I mean, don't you wanna do something different?
At first, i thought you were all insane.
But on further review,
as a man who's taken a vow of celibacy,
I know the power of the sexual appetite.
I know this fruit is ripe.
But understand, your ruse won't bring a truce.
Well, what will bring peace?
How about a job? Affordable housing.
A good education. Purpose, hope.
There's a lot of hate out there.
A lot of self-hate. A lot of racial hate.
That Charleston massacre?
Murdered at a prayer meeting.
- Hate crimes. - Assassinations.
Domestic terrorists.
South kakalaki.
First to secede, last to concede.
They built the citadel to take on mother Emanuel.
It's the oldest ame church in the south,
founded by Denmark vesey in 1822.
Their heritage is white supremacy, through and through.
That evil young klansman dylann storm roof?
He's the proof.
Post-racial-- poof.
Storm wants his country back.
- Storm ain't getting it. - It ain't his!
Storm is from a way of hate,
and we may not be able to relate.
Those murders came from a lower Carolina state.
Historically speaking, evil's in that boy's blood.
Well, now, the brothas on the block?
They do the white man's murderous bidding for him.
Now, that form of hate, we can't translate.
It enunciates.
But I will exterminate myself, my kind, me!
Us.
The question remains.
Can your plan save us from us?
Man: Company, halt!
- About face! - Ain't that your boy?
General king Kong?
He wishes.
That's why I quit.
Lysistrata: You know, John brown raided an armory
at Harper's ferry when he freed the slaves.
Show me what you're made of. Right here, right now!
Assume the position!
General king Kong?
I wan to enlist.
Young lady,
speak to one of our recruiting sergeants.
No, general!
My bestie rasheeda, she served under you.
She told me, "get behind that general king Kong."
Said you's a commanding officer.
Young lady...
May I speak to you in private?
Dick, h.W.,
rice-a-roni, w.,
rummy.
No Clinton?
Where's president Hussein Obama?
I'd rather have an African lion in the white house,
than a lyin' African.
You're too funny, general.
Young lady, I'm about to show you something
few people have seen.
This is one of the most important artifacts of the civil war,
affectionately known as whistling dick
because of the terrifying sound it made
when it went off and wreaked its deadly havoc.
Saved our rebs time and time again.
What do you call this, general?
The rammer.
Let me show you how it works.
Oh! Oh!
Shove it in the hole like so.
- Push it down real low, as far as it will go. - Uh-huh.
- And you pull it out real slow.
Look at you, general!
Oh!
I'm always prepared.
Sucky sucky now.
Oh, you know what would get me really alabamy hot?
What? What? Tell me.
- Hand to hand? - Oh, no.
Watch you mount old whistling dick.
- Ride it? - Oh, yeah.
Yeah, like you old general stonewall Jackson
coming to rescue little old darkie me from those Yankees.
- It would turn you on? - Yeah.
I'm not just whistling Dixie.
Oh! Whoo!
Here we go! Come on!
- Ride it. - Yeah.
- Ride it. You like that? - Yeah, come on.
Yeah!
Let that pretty black steel
ride up your pretty pelvis.
Son of a bitch, this is good.
This is good. Yeah!
- You like that? - Now come here, you black stallion.
It's time to light this Cannon.
Oh, wait, wait, wait. One more thing.
What?
Now this right here, general,
this'll really turn me on.
But I'm blind.
- I'm blind. - Yes, you are.
Here, now give me those hands.
You want my fingertips?
What you gonna do with them?
I want all of you. Oh, you like that?
Yeah, that's so sweet.
- Sweetie, come on. - Feel that?
Now you mine now, general.
Yeah, here we go.
Yeah!
I'm your whistling dick.
I'm your little whistling dick.
- Whistle.
Whistle like you want it, baby.
Now come here, you little nappy-headed ho.
Come on, mama.
Bring it, my little burr head.
Come on.
Here we go.
Wait a minute.
What in tarnation is this?
This is an act of treason.
You a black nigra Isis.
Come on! Come on!
Move it! Move it! Move it! Move it! Move it!
- Go! Go! - Freeze!
Man: Don't shoot! Don't shoot!
Please, don't shoot. Don't shoot!
- Move! Move!
Is this the police or seal team two?
And you're surprised there's derision?
If this was your neighborhood, what would you do?
Look at all this weaponry.
Shit look like an invasion, not a persuasion.
All this for some unarmed women of color?
I think something got lost in translation.
They say they come to protect and serve,
but the real truth is they get the chance,
they treat these girls like Eric garner selling loosies.
Let's get truthy.
Cops and gangs,
black and brown folks stuck in the middle.
Shit's on fire, y'all.
I can hear nero's fiddle.
Can't trust the police.
Afraid of the gangs.
This whole motherfucking thing is insane.
What happened to the officer on the beat?
And this banger sure ain't mama nem's little treat.
Miss Helen: First I wanna thank you all for showing up.
We all know that enough is enough and too much stinks,
so we need to come together in agreement about this oath.
Woman: What oath?
Miss Helen: Swearing off the one-eyed monster.
Women: What?
Miss Helen, as an attorney, i know the trip.
I convict our youngsters to this new slave ship.
If I do take the oath, how will it sink that bloody boat?
Althea, it won't work.
You just like having your man by the Jackie Robinsons.
Right, and that's why sugar pie man don't stray.
I keeps that bone dry
and also keep myself looking fly.
Oh, so that's why you wear them too-tight numbers
and fishnets or Daisy Dukes.
Big old ripple up ass hanging all out the shoot.
Oh, y'all wanna laugh?
It's funny? Little broke ass destiny's child over here.
You wanna laugh? Don't talk about my big ass.
We all got some bumps and bruises and cigarette burns on asses.
- Speak for yourself. - What about you and your man?
Old Duke wanna hit that big butt,
you ain't gonna give it up?
Ole Duke and me is separated.
Girl, please. You still wanna hit that.
Even if I did, which I don't,
I will not violate the oath.
Now, sisters, come on. This isn't a joke.
We all have a stake in this fray. You know mine.
So forget about your personal needs.
I'll be damned if another child bleeds.
Oh, Dr. miss aesop has the floor.
A woman wise beyond her years.
Maybe she can help us dry this river of tears.
As a pediatrician for 50 years,
I was dedicated to preserving life.
God, nature, the higher power
put more nerves in a man's thing
than he ever did in his brain.
Thus, the women must save the babies.
Save the babies.
It's time to get that gate of motherhood locked up.
- Lock it up. - Lock it up.
- Women: Lock it up! Lock it up! - Hold up, hold up.
Hold the fuck up!
If I lose my man, I'm gonna cut all of y'all.
Shit!
Fuck it.
Lock it up.
Knights of euphrates, these females
think this is gonna stop the gangs.
Ain't this a blip? Silly rabbits on a stone-cold trip.
I told sugar pie before I left the house,
Apollo ain't no goddamn mouse.
She don't want to give it up,
I'll find me some brand-new fresh ass butt.
There's too much ass for all that trash.
Hey, ain't y'all heard?
The phone sex women, they honoring the strike.
And the porno all closing the nookie.
I mean, not even a fucking lookie.
Fellas, they shutting it all down tighter than fish pussy.
And you know that shit is waterproof.
Waterproof. Tight, tight.
What you gotta say, oedipus?
Well, I asked my mommy last night
and she said the women are right.
- Your mommy? - Yes.
Skinny nigga, sometimes i think you married to your damn mommy.
Well, I love my mother and my mommy loves me.
Gentlemen, I am proud to say that I was breast-fed till I was 12 years old.
Tmi.
I hear some straight dude's been making
late-night appearances on "queer sex for the straight guy."
Yeah, and the brothers on the down low,
even they saying no blow.
Nigga, what did you say?
How I know that, i don't know.
Well, at my age, i thought my missus
was just a pest.
But lord have mercy, she's a sexual terrorist.
And who do we have to blame?
- Oprah? - Women's lib?
Uppity ass women!
Let's give them frails
a dose of they own damn tail.
We'll let them twilly tarts know
who makes them groan and moan and hoot.
And bring home the damn loot.
So what we gonna do, ole Duke?
We took those flags once.
We can take 'em again.
Poindexter's old, unh, but he can still go.
- You saying do it ourselves? - That's the plan, Stan.
Unless you always wanna have that in your greasy old hand.
Knights of euphrates, rise up.
Like the battles of the past,
we shall come together to whup some female ass.
Let us not stand for their flapping lips
nor their chronic nagging bullshit.
- Are we mice or men? - Men: Men!
We shall redeem the power of our breed
with one mighty thrust into the misty mist and the dusky dusky.
- What makes a muskrat guard his musk? - Courage!
- What makes the sphinx the seventh wonder? - Courage!
- What makes the dawn come up like thunder? - Courage!
What makes Venus hottentot so hot?
What puts the dance in the robot?
What we got that they ain't got?
Courage?
Fuck, no. A dick. Blue balls.
Reporter: Miss Helen, i see you out here with all these ladies today.
What do you hope to accomplish?
Lysistrata's platform coincides
with the mayor's 10-point plan to end gun violence.
Her demands are our demands.
Why do you think your demands and your plan
will work better than what the mayor has put forward?
Because we have one, and it's to save our children.
We need to stop this violence in the street.
He's distracted. He has many things that he's concerned about.
We are concerned about our babies
and we are talking to our men in our homes in the bedroom.
I think they'll listen then.
I ain't in no gang.
You telling me you gonna stop giving my girl
from giving me what I need because your man
is the leader of the gang and he out there shooting and killing?
- Don't make sense. - I don't understand that. I ain't a part of that party.
I'm old enough to know that I'm supposed to do what I'm supposed to do.
She old enough to know she's supposed to do what she's supposed to do.
Now, them young kids, they the ones out here tripping like that.
No peace, no pussy.
Women, you need us.
Do your duty and drop that Booty.
No peace, no pussy. Negotiate and copulate.
Women, you need us.
Do your duty and drop that Booty.
No peace, no pussy. Negotiate and copulate.
Women, you need us. Do your duty and drop that Booty.
No peace, no pussy. Negotiate and copulate.
- - That's where they are.
We can bring a team here
all the way across by the main underneath
and surprise them.
I wonder who sent him.
So what is this, chief?
At approximately 1500 hours,
75 women took possession of the armory.
They had hostages, they released them.
- Women did this? - Black and brown women.
- Black and brown women? - Just black and brown women.
- How many dead? - Zero.
- Just wounded? - Nada.
They packing some big muscle, huh?
No, sir, they appear to be unarmed.
- How many? - Approximately 75, sir.
Are you telling me that 75 black and brown women
took a United States military armory unarmed?
Yes, sir.
"No peace, no pussy."
What the hell is going on, riptide?
Don't let that foolishness outside scare you.
The armory is our chastity belt.
I will deny all rights
of access or entrance...
Women: I will deny all rights of access or entrance...
...to every husband, lover, or male acquaintance...
Women: ...To every husband, lover, or male acquaintance...
...who comes to my direction in erection.
Women: ...Who comes to my direction in erection.
If he should force me to lay on that conjugal couch...
Women: If he should force me to lay on that conjugal couch...
...i will refuse his stroke
and not give up that nappy pouch.
Women: ...I will refuse his stroke
and not give up that nappy pouch.
I will not lift my house shoes to touch thy thatch...
Women: I will not lift my house shoes to touch thy thatch...
...or submit hangdog and part with the snatch.
Women: ...Or submit hangdog and part with the snatch.
No peace, no pussy.
Women: No peace, no pussy.
- Lock it up! - Women: Lock it up!
Lock it up! Lock it up!
Lock it up! Lock it up! Lock it up!
Hello?
Man: Jesus h. Christ.
- Mr. mayor. - Hang on.
Everybody out there in the world, take this, too.
You're part of this. Take this vow.
Did you know this woman used to work for my office?
No, I didn't know that, your honor.
It's your job to know!
She was a secretary.
But she's not typing letters anymore.
Oh, no, she's getting the other secretaries
to walk off the job. She's leading a revolt.
I could lose the female vote over this stupid joke.
Jesus, you know how I feel about this baloney.
I can't afford to look like a phony.
Damned if I do, damned if I don't.
Either way, I'm gonna have a friggin' stroke.
- Let's see how serious they are. - What's your meaning?
- Perhaps we should let them get the feeling. - The feeling?
Instead of us breaking in, we close them off.
Build a perimeter, a wall around them.
- Wall? - Operation hot and bothered.
Your honor, we surround the armory with speakers
blasting one of those romantic slow jams from the '70s.
Those crooning brothers will make those mommies wet and make them wanna jet.
Those chastity belters will end their sex strike and climb mount pike.
We run the ball right down their throats.
With total male pride, mayor, you win this with their appetite.
You never have to say you were right.
You never attack or call them weak.
- And you always seek the peace. - You're a deviant bastard.
That's why I went into public service, your honor.
Touchdown, bears! Rah!
Love you.
No peace, no pussy! No peace, no pussy!
Lysistrata! Lysistrata! Lysistrata! Lysistrata!
Hello. Hi. Good afternoon.
Excuse me. Would you happen to be Ms. Clara worthy?
No, sir. And who might you be?
I am Mr. morrowburns.
How might I help you, sir?
Ms. Clara worthy, is she around?
Is this the right address? 6328 Elizabeth Avenue, right?
- Yes, it is. - Do you know Ms. Clara worthy?
Well, I better. Clara's my younger sister.
I'm Ms. Helen worthy.
Wonderful. Pleased to meet you.
I love your garden. It's very beautiful.
- Well, thank you. - Is your sister here?
No, sir. You just missed her.
Clara's going on up to Jackson, Mississippi, to visit our parents.
- You're kidding. - Yeah, she left last night.
- I have cousins in Jackson. - Do you?
I do. We might be kin.
- Might could be. - Might could be.
Listen, could you give your sister a message for me, please?
Well, that's gonna depend on the message.
Right.
- Oh.
Oh, red, white, and blue insurance company.
We got word in the home office that your sister
has a young son, a teenager by the name of homer worthy.
I came to tell your sister that she really should consider
taking out a life insurance policy on homer
because I'm sure you know that young black boys on the south side
are more than likely to be shot and/or killed.
And so the red, white, and blue insurance company
is hoping to help single mothers
like your sister in case of a tragedy
because, of course, it's always better to be safe than to be sorry.
- Mr. burnsmorrow-- whatever your name is. - Morrowburns.
If you don't leave here right now right this second,
you're gonna need a goddamn insurance policy your goddamn self
coming up here in my garden with this here bullshit!
Leave!
- Leave! - It's morrowburns.
Do you think I give a flying fuck
about your fucked-up name?
Get on off the street, man.
Have a nice day, ma'am.
Go on back up to the big house
- and you tell them it didn't work. - Have a nice day, ma'am.
Out here trying to take advantage of your own goddamn people.
Come on, ladies. You got children.
If y'all have any information, let us know.
Save our babies! Save our babies!
Back up, sucka. Don't give us no smack.
Or we'll beat you to death with pampers, gerbers and similac.
Talk that talk, but you're gonna jail.
And don't even think about bail.
Who do you think you are, Rosa parks?
What a damn farce.
Yo, we in a hurry
like a ferguson or staten island jury.
Those judgments were fair.
Look, y'all, nobody cares.
Trayvon Martin. Mike brown.
Tamir rice. Walter Scott.
Rekia Boyd and Freddie gray.
Black lives matter every day.
Not just when you trigger-happy cops go astray.
Dude, you think sister Sandra bland hung herself?
You kill us with impunity.
You give them the opportunity.
'Cause we kill each other like flies,
you rogue cops think you can capitalize.
You thugs don't care about each other, why should we?
Thugs? Who the fuck you calling a thug?
Because we are we.
No matter what our problems are, we deserve respect.
Even though our lives ain't perfect,
we deserve respect.
Even though we live in terror town,
- we deserve... - Women: Respect!
And if you don't understand that,
then, brother, step back.
You and your Dr. Ben Carson lot.
Chi-raq: Yeah, I'll kill that for you.
I'm a killer. Killing that pussy, huh?
- Huh? Huh? - Oh, chi-raq!
I'm a killer?
- Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! - Huh? Yeah, come!
How'd you learn to make love so good?
Repetition.
They call chi-raq the pussy magician.
You are crazy like glue.
One time...
I saw my mom and this dude getting it in...
Right after my daddy got killed.
Dude named blue Monday used to come around and try to pimp on my moms.
She turned a few rent tricks, I think.
Kill me!
Kill this pussy! Kill this pussy!
Go on, nigga, didn't I tell your skinny black ass
to knock before you come in my bedroom?
I'm sorry, mommy.
Demetrius, close the goddamn door!
Demetrius, go!
Did you understand they was making love?
That's what they was doing?
Looked more like fighting, fucking, and screwing.
Blue Monday knew that i saw him and moms.
Her name was Lucy.
So one day he just pulled me aside,
yanked my chain, laced me with the games,
showed me how to pull bitches and everything.
He soft-pitched me my first piece.
I was, like, 12 years old.
Taught me how to be a man and shit.
Handed me his baddest bottom bitch.
It was a present for washing his Cadillac.
- My god. - I know, right?
Should have got like two or three bitches.
I washed the shit out that Cadillac.
Where's your moms now?
Demetrius, close the goddamn door!
Fuck off. Talk about my mom.
Woman: This is an emergency.
- We're all here for peace, right? - Crowd: Yeah.
I wanna hear you scream for peace.
- Can you scream for peace?
'Cause that's what we want and that's what we're about.
We gotta stop the killing. We gotta stop the killing.
Chi-raq, what's doing?
You know how we do, tiny Tony.
Check it, man. It's all there.
Okay, them 30 poppers.
All right, yeah, spine stoppers.
Keep it coming like that.
Appreciate it.
- Trojans! - Hole in a trojan the size of the ozone, you know?
Chicago's peace is our Selma.
Brothers and sisters, it is time to cross the bridge.
- Put down the gun. - Crowd: Put down the gun.
- Put down the gun. - Put down the gun.
- Don't shoot. - Don't shoot.
- Stop the violence. - Stop the violence.
- What do we want? - Peace.
Save our babies. Save our babies.
Please, don't shoot!
Save our babies. Save our babies.
It's dick day. Omaha beach.
And uncle Sam's pulling out everything
but the bedroom sheets.
Now they hooking up the noriega speakers.
Remember Panama, y'all?
That was the one before the other one
as I recall.
Well, them atomic woofers and tweeters
made general Manuel's machete snap.
Too many dbs for them pockmarks to bear.
Plus he's ugly as crap.
Our boys caught that dictator in a rock-and-roll trap.
So now the commish, too, done figured out
how to make those pussies clap.
A black-headed woman make a freight train jump the track.
A long tall gal make a preacher ball the Jack.
A blonde-headed woman make a good man leave town.
And a redheaded woman make a boy slap his pappy down.
Ashes to ashes.
Dust to dust.
This sex strike go on much longer,
bishop t.D. Jakes gonna cuss.
Operation hot and bothered.
We turn them on, they turn themselves in.
We'll stick those prick teasers in a federal pen.
Ladies, I found these earplugs in the artillery room.
It should help drown out the bombing.
Man: Booty, Booty, Booty, Booty, Booty, Booty.
My god, he's got Booty on the brain.
For god's sake, do something.
Yes, sir.
Wheel him out of here.
Poontang. Poontang. Poontang.
Poontang on the membrane.
I want a big Booty. I want a small Booty. So fine!
- I do love those chi-lites, though. - So fine!
Eugene record, lead singer, wrote most of their songs.
Yo, peoples, dig.
The problem with them quiet storm slow jam grooves
is everybody gets in a baby-making mood.
It's been three months, y'all. Can you believe it?
A long hard three.
This is no longer a test.
It's a national emergency.
Pussy!
I need some motherfucking twat
and I need it now.
It's making me fucking insane.
Goddamn!
That boy's balls was bright blue.
He's an 18-Wheeler carrying a heavy load
whose arrival is overdue.
But like wild bill told Monica on her way down,
"don't let that shit drip. They'll use it as evidence."
Let's speak on something else don't make no sense.
Remember the two concert gunmen?
Let's check in on those fools
and see how they do.
So y'all remember me?
But did y'all know my mission?
Kill those spartan niggas before intermission.
Those bullets severed my spine.
Tore my behind.
Now I'm unable to walk.
Thank god i can still talk.
I was chi's boy.
What I'm now, i can't say.
What did I seek? To be monster Greek.
Being thug is what I love. How you like me now?
Lost a kidney, my spleen,
most of my digestive tract.
From one goddamn bullet, dawg.
That's the keeping it 100 fact.
Now I'm fed through a iv.
I can barely pee. Jack, I'm no longer me.
What it means to be 18 and black.
This is sparta? Huh?
Squad! Gang!
- My niggas, what is this? - We sparts.
Sparts supposed to hold them hostage with the sausage.
Y'all motherfuckers got it? Spartans.
I don't know why y'all crying like somebody cancelled kwanzaa and Christmas.
Instead of lying in the trenches, y'all acting like a bunch of bitches.
See, we just wanna check in Betty Ford.
Get that sexual healing. You know we reeling.
What do I care if them foo-foo heifers lit y'all, up and negated the back?
I'm chi-raq, nigga. I cuts no slack.
So y'all go back to your little b.B. And Bobby blue bland rhythm.
Chi don't get the blues, nigga. I give 'em.
Old ass Otis know.
This strike got spartans in purple drawers with blue balls.
Well, shit, sparta, that's on y'all.
Woman: Born in chi-raq.
Cyclops: This is ridiculous.
No, no, no, no, no.
I done put good paper out on chi-raq.
Why that motherfucker ain't dead?
- Can't get nobody to pull the trigger. - What?
Go figure. I'm telling you, dawg.
Niggas ain't the same no more.
All they wanna do is just sit around thinking.
- Say what? - Thinking.
Thinking?
Thinking about what?
- Pussy? - Nah, bro.
You thinking about pussy?
Purse first, ass last, motherfucker.
Fuck, gs up, hos down. Whatever happened to that?
Nah, about this gang life.
What?
Beso, look it here.
We're cheese and light fatback, baby. Top dog since way back.
Come correct with this shit now. What the fuck is going on?
Cyclops, you my man, 50 grand, long and strong.
But I'm telling you they ain't wrong.
These niggas is shaking like having a seizure in a dice game.
They minds is racing. And I got a baby on the way.
- Oh, shit. - I wanna see my shorty grow up
- and not crying over my open grave. - You're getting soft.
People call it soft, but think about all the niggas we lost.
They told me it was gonna be rough when I got out of the joint,
but I didn't know it was gonna be like this.
What about the war wounds, baby? War wounds don't mean nothing?
Yeah, the war wounds was when it meant something.
So what about your name in the game, huh?
Our name has got us six feet deep.
Nobody? Nobody? Jah rude?
Yard boy. Go on now, y'all.
What? Bumbaclot ratchet.
Cyclops, you might wanna a hear word, bro.
If you ain't fixin' to listen to me, bro,
you might wanna listen to your woman indigo.
You're not gonna listen?
- Bro, you can at least talk to me. - Okay, okay.
- Let's talk eye to eye. - Okay. Okay, yeah.
Eye to eye patch.
Chastity belt keys up.
Like clockwork, rasheeda.
Go, come on.
Move. Go, go.
Come on, doc. Get on up there, doc.
There you go. After you.
Ow.
You're a pig.
If I didn't miss my boo so much,
I would slap the shit out of you!
Bitches and hos, come out to play.
With our keys, we shall unlock
the sacred brotherhood of male needs
and seize the means of reproduction.
Those chastity belts are no match for a manly man's keys.
Time to let that thing breathe.
So pack up this Gloria steinem act
and get y'all ass back in the damn sack.
Take off those chastity belts and surrender the armory.
Nobody moves, nobody gets hurt.
- You all right? - What's going on?
Well, well, well.
What's up?
That all you got?
Girl, this sex strike scheme ain't nothing but a wet dream.
You're trying to act all NFL Roger goodell.
Wench, please, all you chicks gonna burn in hell.
Don't worry. If you act polite and not all saditty,
we just might issue you some damn pity.
Nah, see, we don't wanna fight,
but you cro-magnon can't walk upright.
You old dudes, you lack insight.
Who your mommy and daddy?
I gots no mommy and daddy.
- You ain't got no folks? - Everybody's my folks.
So you never had a pappy to school you on the female way.
It takes a man to teach a heifer like you how to behave.
I'm sorry that our effort to reform has left you unable to perform.
But even before the strike,
that's what your penile implants was like--
soft.
Women: Oh, snap!
You trifling little black bitch.
This ain't no joke.
You old tired dicks just want a Viagra poke.
Dude, this is about life and death,
about a community that's a wreck.
And you wanna sit here and talk about how women behave?
Fool, we trying to free these slaves.
Slaves to the madness. Slaves to this violence.
And what, you just want us to silence?
We gonna make sure these fools put down these guns
and stop thinking that this craziness is fun.
You see, we women, we understand
that life is about more than polishing your knobs.
Saving lives, that's our job.
It's about bringing an end to this strife
and giving the hood the true meaning of life.
What is the true meaning of life?
You don't know?
Ole Duke, why don't we go home, huh?
My mommy is worried about you and i and the knights.
- Lysistrata: Your mommy? - Rasheeda: Yeah, yeah. Whatever.
Your mommy's on strike, too.
Thank you, guys. Bye, have a good night.
And don't forget, no peace...
Women: No pussy.
No peace, no pussy.
Damn!
Brooklyn, put the guns down.
Brooklyn...
The president called me this morning.
- The president? - He was very upset.
World leaders are in crisis.
The infrastructures of their country are collapsing.
The leader of the free world
thinks the entire matter is my fault.
Mr. mayor, it's not your fault.
That's right because it's your cocksucking fault!
The president of the United States called me a name today.
- No, Mr. mayor. - Oh, yes. Oh, yes.
The president of the United States of America
called me a motherfucking sorry-ass punk-ass bitch.
Oh, yes. It seems the first lady has taken the oath.
And what's worse, my wife has taken the oath.
She's a sexy young thing.
Beautiful. Former model/stripper.
Honey, I'm home.
Wife: I'm in the bedroom.
Imhotep arrives.
- Oh. Oh. - Ahoy, my queen.
Oh, Mr. mayor, baby. I am so hot.
Your honor. My pharaoh.
I will now take my chi-town Cleopatra.
No peace, no pussy.
If I can't have my wife's pretty bottom,
from your tush I'll find meaning.
And you'll be squealing like you were in that movie "deliverance."
Give this lysistrata what she wants.
- She wants world peace. - Give her fucking world peace!
You read me? Get the job done!
Man: Chi-raq! Chi-raq!
You know i knew your pops.
Father's in there.
I'm good.
We need you and the spartans to come down to the armory
and join in the peach talks.
Fuck I care if these lames ain't getting ass? Ain't my task.
So lysistrata's not your woman?
Now you're fucking with my rep.
Bigger than your fucking rep.
Ain't no such thing.
Father, you know what I've always wanted to ask you?
What a white boy like you
doing all up in the e-dub all these years?
I grew up eight blocks from St. Sabina.
When I took a vow to be a priest,
it had to be in the streets 'cause Jesus rolled
with the suffering and the poor.
Imagine no more stray bullets
killing innocent children like Patti no more.
Bullets ain't got no name, no eyes.
That's right.
They're just designed to take lives.
Like they'll take yours soon, son.
Three places you're gonna end up--
county morgue, county hospital or county jail.
People downtown don't give a fuck about you.
You in the system. You in jail.
And you won't make bail.
And it's privatized now to capitalize.
No more insurance card. No more family to feed.
You hanging from a tree.
You're not even costing them money.
You're making them money.
And nobody's gonna hear your bitching
'cause this is a new legal form of lynching.
That's all you got, huh, padre Miguel?
God loves you. I love you.
And I believe in my heart you have a higher purpose than this.
Presided over your father's funeral.
That mean anything to you?
That enough for your little collection basket?
Thank you for the donation...
Towards the $5,000 bounty
leading to the arrest of Patti's killer.
I'll pray for you.
Be safe.
Hey, hey.
Come on, let's go.
Any chance you could pull your pants up?
Yo, lys. It's me, chi.
Come to your senses?
- I got a proposition. - Speak.
- A showdown. - A showdown?
- That's right. - Who?
- Me and you. - I'm not gonna shoot you.
Not a death match. It's a sex match.
First one to surrender loses.
You lose, you end all this.
No charges filed.
You'll make a public statement apologizing to all men.
It's over. Done with.
And when I win?
You get whatever it is you're trying to do.
P-e-a-c-e.
P-i-e-c-e.
Pretty damn sure of yourself.
- Contact. - There he is.
This is better than the goddamn super bowl.
Pop them on the griddle. Dice 'em, slice 'em,
bait 'em, stew him in his own caresses.
Justice.
- I wish. - I pray.
We should all pray.
- What it do? - 'Sup?
It's been a while.
Three months, 13 days, three hours,
seven minutes, and two seconds.
Counting days, huh, bae?
That's how long we women have been on strike.
I see you still on fleek.
Not playing meek.
All: Damn!
Oh, fine!
You know I got feelings for you.
Feelings for me?
Down to the bone.
Chi, I'm not picking a bone with you.
I know you miss daddy dick nasty.
Not more than you miss this steamy,
creamy, hot butter biscuit.
All: Hot butter biscuit.
I'm on fire with desire.
- Bring it out.
- A brass bed? - That's enemy lead.
Mmm, that's a big ass brass bed
for banging black Booty.
What? My wife's biracial.
Whoever comes first loses.
We had some good times.
A few.
Especially in the am.
You always liked it in the morning.
Like you liked it at night.
Yeah.
Right and tight.
Missed you.
I missed you back.
You got them bedroom eyes.
Like your man biggie say,
they hypnotize.
And like your man Tupac said,
how do you want it?
Mm.
Remember our first?
We was in a club.
You was looking too damn good.
I had the chicken and waffle.
- You had the ribs. - Yum, yum.
Took you to the crib,
showed you how I live.
Got you some wine.
Yeah.
Beautiful time.
Mm.
You smell good.
I know.
Now what about peace?
Shit, you the only piece I need.
Both: Turn them goddamn motherfucking lights out!
Lysistrata: Come on, baby, just come.
Come for me. Come for me, baby.
Chi-raq: Yeah.
Oh! Oh, chi.
Shit.
Missed giving it to you.
Lysistrata: We gonna win. We gonna win.
Both: Oh, shit!
We done, yo.
- Cyclops? - Oh!
- That's my man. - What?
We done.
You know we wrong, right?
- The fuck you mean we wrong? - Dead wrong.
I want my woman indigo more than I want a dead yo spartan purple.
Not getting some because we out here acting dumb?
I'd rather my glock don't cock than my nuts stay numb.
Lysistrata took no pity.
Turned out every gangster in this city. Global, really.
Lysistrata: I asked cyclops to be here. You've been played for peace.
Cyclops: This the 411. Listen to your queen, son.
I had time to reevaluate my shit.
Don't think I turned bitch, but motherfuckers like us in the life,
we, too, need to strike.
Put some change in our refrain
and stop all of this killing pain.
Thus...
We the united federation of gangsterism
for the state of drillinois hereby decree
we cashing in our chips.
Done with all of this dumb shit.
Now we just waiting on you.
So what it be, g?
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever, nigga.
Look, I'm over here putting in work.
I got this. I'm about to win.
We got this.
We...
Got nothing.
Every fortune 500 company has signed the peace accord
ensuring that every person in the hoods of America
of employment age is guaranteed a job.
And I don't mean no minimum age neither.
New hospitals and mental health facilities
will be built by the United States government.
And finally, there will be a much needed trauma center
on Chicago's south side.
Lysistrata,
this is what justice looks like.
We will now sign the peace accord.
Yeah.
Peace is not the absence of war,
but a newfound love for one another.
Your Johnsons brought you to the table,
but that truce is unstable.
We need truth and reconciliation for the victims,
the ones that live with this pain of loss
and must deal with the long-term human cost.
Chi-raq.
We are the mothers of the hoods.
All have lost someone to this senseless war.
There will be no birthdays for them.
No first dates.
No walk down the aisles. No tomorrows.
Why the fuck y'all got me on full blast?
Why y'all trying to put me on front street?
This is my Pam. She is 10 years old.
- I don't want to hear that shit. - Chi! Please.
One summer day
back when we lived in the cabrini-green projects,
Pam was outside jumping double Dutch
when they started shooting.
She was shot through her left eye
by a stray bullet.
This was over 20 years ago.
And children dying from stray bullets
wasn't a common occurrence like it is today.
Days later, a young man came to my apartment
and he begged my forgiveness.
Then he confessed to the police.
Back then it was a violation
of the gang code to murder children.
He knew.
He knew
if he didn't confess to me and the police,
that the gangs would end his life.
That man was your father.
Jamel.
Never knew him.
Only heard stories.
Got killed in prison when I was just a shorty.
He tried to be a good man.
You can be a good man.
Be a good man.
I did dirt.
You got something you wanna say?
I killed your baby Patti.
God!
It was an accident.
God!
Pray for me. Please.
What y'all looking at?
Time for you to do the same.
Take the blame. Take the claim.
Take it on the chin and confess your sins.
Be a man and quit trying to suppress this pain you in.
Hell of a mess, this gang you in.
Sleepless nights.
Too weak to fight.
Couldn't reach us to teach us right.
Our crying mothers. Our dying brothers.
D and d, that's what they want us to be. Deaf and dumb.
But you see, the only one we protecting is the gun.
So run, nigga, run. I let it run out of me.
'Cause I'm finally free from all these demons.
Finally, they leaving. Finally, I'm breathing.
So bring the truth. Bring the truth.
Bring the truth, brother. Bring it.
He'll be all right.
Chi-raq can take care of himself.
That's Demetrius.
It's not chi-raq.
As Stevie wonder sings,
all in love is fair.
Well, I ain't too sure about that,
but for now I'll say yeah.
Lysistrata formed an army
more powerful than the Roman empire.
Burned through the city just like that Chicago fire.
So remember queen prophet lysistrata
and the lessons that she taught you.
The only real security is love, y'all.
L-o-v-e.
Let's all together make chi-raq
back into Chicago,
city of the broad shoulders.
Peace. Two fingers.
Wake up!
Woman: This is an emergency.