All 30 scenes:

Part 1: Victory

(Screen is black)

D loc’s voice: Hey… hey yo X

(Daddy X groans)

D loc: X.. yo.. wake the fuck up

Daddy X: No.. you wake the fuck up… (groans)

(camera gets hit by a bag of weed like Daddy X is getting smacked in the face with it)

D loc: The newspaper you donkey

Daddy X: Fuckin.. You’re a donkey

Richter: YO MOTHERFUCKER, READ THE GODDAMN NEWSPAPER!!!!

Daddy X gets up, looks at the paper, and yells “OH SHIT!!!!”

Camera pans to the newspaper which reads “Puff and Pass: California Passes Prop 216 and legalizes
marijuana!” with a bunch of pictures of weed leaves and people smoking bongs in front of the California
state house
Cut to Daddy X jumping down the stairs

Daddy X: PROP 215 MOTHERFUCKAAAAAAAAAAAS! FUCK YEAH!

(Kottonmouth kings all cheer raucuously! Pakelika popping and locking jubilantly)

D loc: Well shit motherfuckers, what’s up now?

Richter: Let the games begin!

Cut to a montage of the Kings running down the street together in celebration, blunts and bongs in
hand, harassing neighbors and passers by with weed. Old ladies on the neighborhood watch look out
their windows in disappointment. They blow smoke in the faces of every dumb ass square motherfucker
on the street. Pakelika dances around taunting a cop while doing liquid and smoking a joint between
every finger. And Daddy X pretends to fart on a dogs face while Richter blows a giant stream of smoke.

D loc: Bitch you can’t fart on a dog! You’re gonna get your shit all bit off and shit

Richter: I farted on your mom last night and she’s a dog. She was all like *woof woof*. I think she liked it
dude.

D loc smacks Richter upside the head while all the Kings laugh.

The Kings get back home, exhausted from their joyful celebration.

Daddy X: D loc man... How many times I gotta remind you to put your cap up on the hat rack?

Lou dog: Fuckin.. it’s November man. We got that kings blend harvest.. that outdoor shit..

Richter: Crip.. smoke all that crip. Blast the fuck OFF!

Kings in unison: YEAAAAAH!

Bobby B: Yo richter, you said ‘let the games begin’. Ain’t heard anyone say the games is over yet

Richter: Awright B, fuckin.. game wheel then? Tax Man go get that shit!

(Tax Man leaves the room then enters with a giant prize wheel and a gong)

Tax Man: (smacks gong) Alright Kings, the 1996 Kings Blend Kup is on and poppin! We got some fuckin'
Kings Blend. Let’s… someone spin this fuckin wheel, let’s get this thing started!
(Saint Dog jumps across the room and smacks the wheel making it spin ridiculously fast)

All the chant over each other to root for their favorite games

Daddy X: RAT RACE! RAT RACE!

Lou Dog: The lottery!!!!

Richter: Spaceman!

Tax Man: 1040 Special!

Bobby B: The blender!

(Pan shot of all the kings glued to the wheel as it slowly comes to a stop)

Tax man: TUBA!

Daddy X: Nose goes for tuba!

(all the kings put their finger on their nose… except D loc)

D loc: Aw shit.

Richter: LOAD UP THE TUBA BITCHES!!!

Saint dog retuns with a miniature tuba converted into a pipe with a HUGE bowl. The kings start grabbing
fresh nugs from their harvest, breaking them up, and dumping them into the tuba while D Loc gets
himself into position to take the hit.

Bobby B: Hit that shit D! You better hit that shit!

D loc: Alright, let me take a drink of my fucking bud light… Yo Richter, light that shit!

Daddy X: You know the rules. Tax Man, get on the stopwatch. We light it up, you smoke all that fuckin’
shit, and you blow that tuba. Richter’s got the Kup record 1 minute 3 seconds… you ready?

Bobby B: Yeah, you ready for this shit?

D loc: Turn the porch light on… and light that shit up!

(Richter X and Saint Dog light up the Tuba)

Tax Man: Time on!

D loc takes greens off the Tuba and starts smoking furiously. He inhales and exhales, smoke blowing out
his nose, barely holding it together as his eyes and face turn red. With determination in his eyes, D Loc
smokes on like a champ.

Daddy X: Look at this shit, dude’s almost cleared it! Tax Man, what’s the time?

Tax Man: 36 seconds!! We might have a new Kup record!!

Richter: Hit that shit motherfucker! Hit that shit!!!!!!

D loc keeps smoking furiously and finishes the bowl! As he gets ready to blow the tuba he goes into a
mad coughing fit! Tax Man points at the stop watch and D loc manages to pull himself together just
enough to….

HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK!!!!

Tax Man: 48 seconds!!!!!! A new record!

The kings start going fucking crazy! Celebrating and hollaring, lighting up joints and shit.

Tax Man: Speech! Speech! Speech!

All eyes turn to D loc, but he’s red as a fucking beet and still coughing like a little bitch. His eyes start
rolling back into his head as his feet give out and he falls to the floor with a loud

BUMP
---

Part 2: Revelation

The Kings krowd around D loc as he’s on the floor having a seizure

Daddy X: What the fuck???!! D wake the fuck up!

Richter: Oh shit

Tax Man: LOC WAKE THE FUCK UP MAN!

Lou dog: That fuckin tuba man… Shit..

Pakelika is freaking the fuck out, running in huge circles holding his head with his lanky ass arms. The
Kings are in an absolute panic

Tax Man: We.. fuck.. I gotta call 911, I’ve never seen D fucked up like this

Daddy X: Shit… I’ll hide the bongs

Lou Dog: Weed’s legal now you dipshit! Tax Man, make the call!

Tax man runs off to find a phone, but suddenly, D loc wakes up and stands up, eyes lookin like a
veitnamese dude that slurped too many spicy noodles.

D loc:

I’m D loco!

I sip hot cocoa!

I won’t fuck a bitch if the bitch

is a broke ho!

All the Kottonmouth kings froze. Their jaws hit the fucking floor when D busted out those sick lines.
Richter: Yo… what the fuck? You won’t fuck a broke ho? Fucks gotten in to you man???

D loc:

Life ain’t what it seems

It ain’t no fuckin dream

So get a grip

Up on your shit

And make sure your pipe’s clean!

Daddy X: Holy fuck!! Bust out another one!

D loc:

Its me and my skate, skate

In this world of hate and confusion
I sweat all day to create an illusion
Or a fantasy yeah that's what you call it

You can be a bong tokin alcoholic

Bobby B: Hold up hold up, keep this fool high, I gotta lay some tracks down on this shit

Tax Man: I think I’ve got a better idea...

Richter: We’ll get RIPPED!

Daddy X: Woo! Lets get this session on! KINGS BLEND!!

The kottonmouth kings start frantically packing bowls and bongs, rolling joints and blunts, sprinkling kief
on the top of everything.

Lou Dog: Everybody grab your lighters

Kings in unison: Ola ola ay!

All the kings spark up as the screen cuts to a montage of all the kings smoking the living shit out of all
the weed

Part 3: Rollin’ stoned

D loc: Yeaaaah B, lay down that phat fuckin’ track! Richter, pass me that kings blend!

The kings smoke and party while B sets up the track and Pakelika grooves.

Bobby B: Talkin bout… somethin like this?

(Bobby B starts laying down samples to “Misunderstood”, looping back and forth building the track as
the kings pass joints back and forth)

Tax man: Pack that zong! Let’s get this session on!!

Saint dog passes a fully packed bong to each one of the kings and lights them all up. The kings smoke
away as the track comes together.

Saint dog: I said my momma don’t understand me

Daddy never really cared

Fuck the rest, I failed their test, I guess life’s just unfair…

Screen fades to black, then fades into montages of the Kings rockin’ house parties

Narrator: And so the kings uncovered their hidden talent. Grow kings blend, get blazed as a
motherfucker, lay down some phat tracks and sick rhymes, and show the world the truth about weed!

Their message was undeniable, their sick rhymes indescribable, and it was only a matter of time before
the kings started rockin’ house parties in southern cali, turnin’ the fuckin’ suburbs upside-down. From
Mackenzie Avenue to Orange County, the Kings lit it the fuck up on Richter’s bus, leaving a trail of smoke
and dripping panties in their wake.
But as the Kings got bigger and bigger, something was brewing. Something huge. And it would change
their lives forever.

KMK The Movie part 4: Greed

(The screen shows a view from a helicopter of a New York skyscraper in the morning light. The caption
reads “10:04am, June 20th 1997”, Downing International Capital Holdings Headquarters”. Cut to a
boardroom presentation.)

Windsor Allenworth, CEO of Downing International Capital Holdings, sits at the head of the table. His
arms are folded as he watches the CFO Rick Richardson quarterly fund performance review.

Richardson:...and as you can see by this graph, Mr. Allenworth, our currency investments are steady,
real estate is rapidly appreciating, and rare earth metals are fluctuating.

Allenworth: I know the Yen and the pound are down. Have we made up for it with our Turkey strategy?

Richardson: Not exactly sir. The Turkish strategy is a long play. Our connections in the treasury have
arranged for a good exchange rate and three of our hedge funds have been incrementally increasing out
shorts. It should pan out in about two years.

Allenworth: Then what gives?

Richardson: Swiss Francs

Allenworth: Ah yes. Alright, continue

Richardson: Our next slide shows real estate. Values are appreciating so more buyers are entering the
market to buy a first home or even a second as an investment. We’ve done well buying the mortgages
and reselling to the secondary market. Demand is through the roof and looks on pace to continue for at
least the next 5 years.

Allenworth: Same as last quarter then.

Richardson: Exactly. Now… rare earth metals.

Allenworth: ...continue?

Richardson: Well, demand is high but we’ve run into a some roadblocks in sourcing.

Allenworth: What kind of roadblocks?

Richardson: Export restrictions from the Chinese market are on the horizon. China controls 99% of the
market.
Allenworth: But doesn’t one of our companies retain Mr. Guangxian as a consultant?

Richardson: Yes, but he only started the program. The government is trying to consolidate the market
and usurp all the smaller players. There’s too much uncertainty and too many small suppliers are closing
shop. Supply will be low and the prices are going to kill some of our manufacturing holdings in the cell
phone and touchscreen industries.

Allenworth: Shit. Okay, then what? Can’t we just switch suppliers to Russia or India?

Richardson: No, they’re stockpiling so they can price gouge when the Chinese do.

Allenworth: (bangs fist on the desk) Well, what’s your fucking solution then?

Richardson: I knew you were going to ask that. (switches slide) and I think we’ve found a solution.

(Slide switches to this picture of Johnny Richter:

http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tGCiKW342LQ/RlmbYBucE8I/AAAAAAAAADY/IvxZpon4-G8/s320/richter.jpg)

Part 5: You know it’s all the same…

Meanwhile….

(Johnny Richter walks into a convenience store, blazed as fuck. He meanders around, eventually buying
a bag of beef jerky, a Twix, and a mountain dew.)

Clerk: Whats up J-dog, hows it hangin’?

Richter: Shit man, you know.. Rockin shows, fuckin’ firing up fatties, stayin’ blasted with my funk, drinkin
vodka blue label and some Smirnoff on the rocks.. You?

Clerk: Another day in paradise. Heard you guys started a fuckin’ riot down in Laguna last week (rings up
purchases)

Richter: Well, that’s what the cops wanted to call that shit. I just grabbed my bottle of bacardi and
proceeded to bounce

Clerk: Anything else J?

Richter: Yeah, fuckin… what’s hot for the tickets?

Clerk: Just got this new roll in today, nobody’s hit yet.

Richter: Lemme see

(Richter carefully inspects a roll of scratch tickets called “Mad Ca$h Mliionaire$”)
Clerk: How much today?

Richter: Let’s just do 40 bucks, I gotta grab a sack on the way back home.

Clerk: (Rings Johnny up) Thank you, come again!

(Johnny hops on his skateboard and weaves downhill on the backdrop of the California sunset. After a
quick stop off at his dealer, Johnny pops the back of his skate straight up into his hand and runs into the
house, bursting through the door)

Richter: WHAT UP!

(D loc and Pakelika are playing beer pong while smoking weed, while Daddy X, Taxman, Saint Dog, Lou
Dog, and Bobby B are passing the bong around on the couch)

Lou Dog: Come hit this shit.. What you got?

Richter: The Troph

Daddy X: From up in the Bay?

Richter: Who the fuck knows. Looks like crip though..

Lou Dog: (steals the bag) fuckin’ smells like the crip too. Roll that shit up

Taxman: You buy fuckin’ lottery tickets again?

Richter: Nunjo

Taxman: Nunjo? What the f…

Richter: Nunjo bidness motherfucker!

D loc: Again with that scratch ticket shit? I told you it’s all the same

Richter: And when you have your own money you can buy yourself a pink pony

D loc: Nah man, I’m serious. That shit’s just all a big game.

Taxman: The chances of you winning are pretty much zero, you’re better off buying a hooker

Richter: What kind of hooker am I gonna get for 40 bucks?

Daddy X: (Takes a giant bong hit and talks while letting the smoke creep out) They bill by the hour so 40
bucks should buy you enough time to nut and get 30 bucks back

(Kings laugh)

Richter: Or I could just hire your mom again. Alright bitches, we gonna smoke this shit or not?
Lou Dog: Roll it up then!

Richter: Saint Dog, your turn to roll.

(Richter scratches off the tickets continuously in the background while Saint Dog rolls up the joint)

Bobby B: So I heard back from those fools down at Oceanside

Daddy X: Yeah? They want us down there or what?

Bobby B: Hell fuckin’ yeah!

Daddy X: And free weed?

Bobby B: Free women, gotta bring our own weed

KMK The Movie part 6: Just a big game

(Pakelika passes the bong to Richter)

Pakelika: You gonna hit this shit or you quit this shit?

Richter: …. (scratching tickets)

D loc: Take the bong man!

Richter: Hold the fuck on

Lou Dog: Alright, 5 second rule. Richter’s out. I call his hit

Richter: Take it bitch… CAUSE I’M RIIIIIIIIIICH!!!!!

Tax Man: What, you got enough for one with no teeth this time?

Richter: No bitch, I JUST WON A MILLION MOTHERFUCKIN DOLLARS!!!!!!!

D loc: Okay Dr. Evil. I call bullshit. This be Richter right fuckin’ now (does Dr. Evil impression). Gimme
that shit you idiot.

Richter: Fuck no man, you said it’s all the same. You ain’t stealin’ this fuckin ticket from me, I’m gonna
buy a yacht.
D loc: I’m not stealing your ticket you retard

Tax Man: Show me that shit

(All the Kings crowd Richter and look at the ticket… and their eyes widen)

Richter: I TOLD YOU BITCHES! WE’RE GONNA BUY THE MALL UP IN THIS MOTHERFUCKER!!!

Tax Man: Holy mother of fuck.

Daddy X: Fuck me

(Pakelika starts popping and locking)

D loc: Bitch you better share that shit!

Richter: Not with you, dipshit! (Richter smacks D loc upside head) LET’S GET STOOOOOOOOONED! It’s
time to fuckin’ celebrate!

(The Kings get a major fuckin’ session on. A pound of the crip all in one night. Blunts and bongloads,
joints and vaporizers, and all that old shit. A session to end all sessions.)

The next day rolls around. The Kings wake up at 2pm, scrape out a bowl since they smoked all the weed,
and head down to the lottery office in Richter’s Bus to claim their prize.

Lou Dog: So for real… what we gonna do with all this cash?

Daddy X: 60 inch TV, phat Startac cele, 26s for the V dub. You know

D loc: Gonna buy like 10 pounds of weed and give it to all my homies. Dirtbikes, a dune buggy, head over
to Amsterdam for a while, give my dad some money, buy my mom a new house.. fuckin.. open a skate
shop.. mini bikes, go karts..

Richter: How you gonna do that with all my money ho?

Tax Man: Gonna put my shit in some tax deferred accounts, stash some cash offshore and fill up that
Roth every year for the next fuckin decade, wait ‘til I’m 60 then kick the fuck back.

Lou Dog: Tax, you gotta get out of the house more

Tax Man: Shut it fool. Richter, what you gonna do man?

Richter: You’ll see

(The Kings get out of the bus and walk into the lottery office)
Clerk: How can I help you boys?

Richter: (slams the ticket on the table) I want my MONEY! M. O. N. E. Y. money! Gotta have that shit,
cash cash money dolla dolla bill y’all.

Clerk: (Rolls eyes) Alright sir, please fill out this form then head on back and we’ll take your picture with
the big check.

The Kings swaggered up to the lottery presenting stage thing triumphantly

* CLICK *

https://imgur.com/a/Fe0T3

KMK The Movie part 7: Rollin’ Stoned

Richter sat in his patent leather seat smoking bongload after bongload of the crip. The Kings were known
to stay blazed all day, but Richter was something else. He’d been smoking almost continuously, even
weeks after winning the lottery.

“Hey yo X!” Richter said

“What now bong boy?” Daddy X replied exasperatedly

“Gonna need me some fuckin.. fuckin.. bring me that bud light. And some sour patch kids..” Richter said,
slurring his words

Shit changed for the Kings. Oh yeah, they were still rockin’ shows. Burnin’ up fatties, fuckin’ mad bitches,
same as usual. But this cash windfall made every single Kottonmouth whim come true.

A fleet of Vws, all custom. A limited edition 4x4 with leather seats. A pimped out bus. Satellite TV on the
big screen. New couches and shit. Trips to Amsterdam. Custom glass pieces for each day of the week..
Skiing trips. Mini bikes, go karts, a bunch of land for riding dirt bikes, a duck blind. Pots everywhere in
the house to puke and piss. Naming rights to Yorba Linda avenue. A fridge of mountain dew. A half of
straight honey oil.

No more BC. Just pounds and pounds of the crip.

X brought the sour patch kids. And the beer.

“Check this shit out. I call it the beer-a-long-a-ding-dong-no-sa-ring-bong-charry-barry-smoke-weed-pip-

perry-weed-smoke”
Richter shook the beer up and poured it into a clean glass bong, cleared the whole bowl in two hits, then
drank all the foamy beer bong water in one gulp

The look on Richter’s face said everything. Daddy X took a moment to think about this one. He
responded with “And I guess you want me to puke it for you too?”

“* cough gag retch* if… you could… pass me the puke pot please” Richter replied “BLAARGH”

Tax Man saw the scene unfolded and chimed in with “Richter man.. you flew too close to the sun on that
one”

The Kings were a little over the top with their indulgences. But shit man, they’d been struggling all their
lives and got a break. Not everyone has the constitution of Tax Man who wisely invested his share.
When you fly high you gotta ride or die. Lucky breaks don’t come twice and you only live once.

“Hey yo, pack up! We got a show tonight!” Bobby B reminded. “I got the van loaded up, lets go lets go
lets go!”

It was time to leave the house, so they slid out the door.

Richter hopped in the drivers seat and let out the clutch HARD, burning rubber as the kings got on the
road.

“Man, I need some food. Let’s go to Mickey D’s, get a cheeseburger.” D loc said. “Hit the 502”

Pakelika nodded in agreement as Saint Dog reached in between the seat and pulled out another beer,
cracking it open loudly.

“Gotta smoke this shizzit first though” Lou Dog said as he handed out joints which got sparked up
immediately. Richter turned the volume up to 11 and his Clarion amp made the bus shake as they rolled
down the highway. Traffic was backing up on the freeway so Richter jerked the bus hard to turn off onto
the toll road.

Four joints later the bus was fishbowled.

KMK The Movie part 8: Fast forward

“HEEEEEEEELP!” Chad screamed, spitting urine from his mouth. “phtpthbhp.. YOU SICK FUCKS, YOU’LL
NEVER GET AWAY WITH THIS! * retch * * gag * MY DAD’S * pbpptbpptttpp * A LAWYER AND HE’S
GONNA SUE YOU!!!!”
KMK The Movie part 9: Ain’t no Saint

Narrator: Hold up hold up, what the fuck? Let’s back this motherfucker up right here… (rewind image
effect and accompanying noise)

The Kings poured out of Richter’s pimped out bus to a crowded party in Orange County. Shit was hype as
fuck, this was underground as fuck, just like the Kings liked it. Hot women, cold beer, and blunts passing
around everywhere.

(Concert scene)

The Kings tore the motherfuckin’ house down, no doubt. But their notoriety was growing. They were
flashin’ cash, livin’ large, blowin’ the fuck up, and everyone knew their names. Just as they were about
to finish up their session and head back to the bus, a stunningly hot cutie named Luana walks up to Saint
Dog.

Luanna: Hiiiii, my name’s Luana. I thought you were so fly out there

Saint: Yeah? Is that right?

Luana: I just had one question for you… (she glances at Saint Dog flirtatiously)

Saint Dog: What’s that?

Luana: Can I rub your head? It looks SO shiny and I’ve been wanting to run my fingers through it all
night...

Saint Dog pauses and looks her over, leaning over and acquiescing to her request.

Luana reaches up and

* BUMP * * BUMP BUMP*

HOLY SHIT, SOME DUMB MOTHERFUCKER JUST CAME UP AND HIT SAINT DOG THREE TIMES!!!!

Narrator: Now, let’s pause for a second. The Kings like to get fuckin’ blasted before they do a show. But
Saint Dog man, he was something else. Saint Dog gave no fucks, made no assumptions, and kept quiet.
He was hard as a motherfucker and didn’t take shit from anybody. And he’s been known to drink some
brandy.
Saint Dog catches his balance and stands up, lookin’ over at this dumb motherfucker

Luana: CHAD! What the fuck is your problem Chad??? We broke up two months ago, we’re fucking
through!! Are you stalking me???

Chad: STAY AWAY FROM MY GIRL MOTHERFUCKER OR I’LL KILL YOU

Saint Dog takes a moment and deliberately cracks his neck and knuckles, staring down Chad.

Chad: SAY SOMETHING YOU LITTLE BITCH! FUCKIN’ DICKHEAD!

Daddy X: Saint, just fuckin’ back away man.

D Loc: Come on… let’s go smoke, forget about this asshole. He doesn’t need it

Richter: I’m gonna go start up the bus… Come on Saint, let’s get going man

Chad: YOU WANNA GO, HUH? IS THAT IT LITTLE MAN??

Pakelika and Tax Man approach Saint Dog and try to hold him back, but to no avail as Saint Dog breaks
free and bum rushes Chad.

Kings: Oh shit…

Chad starts to back up as he realizes he’s bitten off more than he can chew. But Saint Dog is a fucking
warrior, a real street fighter. He leads off with a straight jab to the face, breaking Chad’s nose and
causing him to stumble backwards, spitting blood.

Chad: Aaaaaaaa!

Saint Dog isn’t done. He may not be a saint but he’s a fucking dog and won’t let go until the job is done.
Saint follows up with a straight kick to the stomach and lands another kick to the side of Chad’s face as
he crashes to the ground.

Tax Man: He’s done man! Just stop let’s go!!!

Chad: Please… no

Saint is not done. He stomps on both of Chad’s collarbones, breaking them instantly. He picks up a beer
bottle and smashes it on the ground next to Chad’s head then kneels down next to Chad and holds the
broken shard up to Chad’s neck.

Saint Dog: Chad.

Chad: (sobbing and bleeding) w… wh… what?

Saint Dog: I hate player haters. Open your mouth Chad.

Chad: (still sobbing) n…

Saint Dog punches Chad in the head again and pushes the bottle into Chad’s neck, drawing the tiniest
drop of blood.

Saint Dog: Chad, don’t make me say it again Chad. Open your mouth.

Chad: (spits) fuck you!

Saint Dog: Kings, hold him down

The Kings look at each other with the shared realization that if they don’t come over and help, Saint Dog
is gonna murder someone tonight. They somberly approach pathetic Chad while he sobs and cries and
bleeds. Pakelika grabs his right arm, Lou Dog grabs his left, Daddy X grabs his right leg, and Richter grabs
his left.

Saint Dog kicks Chad in the stomach as he says “So don’t get mad when your lady tries to jock me fool”.
Chad coughs up blood. Saint Dog sits on top of Chad, throws a left jab and a right hook.

Chad is unconscious, slack jawed.

Richter: Hey man… we gotta--

Saint Dog: I’m not done

Saint Dog pulls down his fly and pisses in Chad’s mouth.

As the stream is dissipating, Chad suddenly wakes up!

“HEEEEEEEELP!” Chad screamed, spitting urine from his mouth. “phtpthbhp.. YOU SICK FUCKS, YOU’LL
NEVER GET AWAY WITH THIS! * retch * * gag * MY DAD’S * pbpptbpptttpp * A LAWYER AND HE’S
GONNA SUE YOU!!!!”

Saint Dog nods. The Kings let go of Chad. He’s been through enough tonight.

Saint Dog: Hey Luana

Luana looks over, ecstatic that someone finally put Chad in his place

Saint Dog: Lu wanna wanna wanna take me home? Lu wanna wanna wanna lay and bone?

Luana smiles, and says “I thought you’d never ask” and hops onto the bus with the Kings on their way
home.

KMK The Movie Part 10: Government lies

Pakelika hauled ass around the new go-kart track in the Kings backyard, two blunts hanging from his
mouth as D Loc lounged by the swimming pool with two fine women. One held the bong in place for him
while the other lit it up as he took a giant rip. Daddy X and Bobby B were playing around in the studio
while Richter, Saint Dog, and Lou Dog were christening the new Range Rover with a proper fishbowl.

“Two” Saint Dog commanded at Richter. Richter took two giant bong rips to the face and passed it over
to Lou.

“You.. You get one.” said Saint.

“Fuck that shit, I want two bong rips.” Lou Dog shot back

“Bitch if you want two bong rips then you should have brought your own bong. You know how this
shitworks.” Saint Dog responded

“…..I know. Your bong, your rules.” scoffed Lou Dog as he exasperatedly took a massive bong rip in
retaliation for his single-rip status. “I don’t wanna go in the trunk again.”

But Tax Man… Tax was uneasy. Something just didn’t add up and he couldn’t put his finger on it.

2* CRASH *

D Loc went to investigate and found Pakelika laying on the ground laughing like a crazy person next to a
bent hunk of metal.

“Why you laughin man? You alright?” D Loc inquired

Pak just laughed and laughed, rolling around on the fresh pavement… “Lottery, L. O. T. T. E. R. Y! Time to
get a new go kart… and a beer!”

This was the fuckin’ life. All the Kings livin large, rollin’ stoned, smokin’ a fuckin’ ounce a day of straight
crip and just riding the wave. Everything they want and everything they need.

* THUMP * * THUMP THUMP *

That’s the sound of the door when someone’s knockin’ on the front

* THUMP * * THUMP THUMP * “Open the door!” An unfamiliar voice commanded

“Go away!” Tax Man shot backreal

* THUMP * * THUMP THUMP * “Open the fuck up, we need to talk to you” The voice continued

Tax Man was getting pissed. “We’re the Kottonmouth Kings and we don’t give a fuck!”

* THUMP * * THUMP THUMP * “Either you can open this door or we can get a warrant.”
Tax Man thought about his options and decided to open the door. Two men dressed in black with
badges stepped inside.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Tax Man inquired

“We’re the IRS. We need to speak to this man.” The silent agent pulls out a picture of Johnny Richter

“Fuck off. Get the fuck out of my house.” Tax Man shot back venomously. “I know my rights and you
have to get the fuck off my property right now.”

Johnny Richter came stumbling into the house at that very moment, reeking of pot from the two hour
fishbowl.

“STOP!” the agents commanded

But Richter barely noticed them. He was soooooo hiiiiiiiiiigh.

The agents walked up to Johnny and said “We’ve been trying to get in contact with you for weeks. Did
you win the lottery?”

“Yeah bitch, I’m so fuckin’ loaded your mom orbits around me.” Richter quipped

The silent agent reached into his briefcase and handed him a piece of paper.

The agent informed Richter “You’ve been officially notified that you are delinquent on the taxes for your
lottery winnings. You have by April 15th to pay this amount or you will be charged with tax evasion.”

Richter looked at the paper, which read “$330,000” in giant bold letters

“What the fuck...” Richter couldn’t believe this. “What the fuck man!!!” His hands instinctively grabbed
his head in shock.

Tax Man came over to look and saw the amount. His eyes lit up with fire

“YOU’RE FUCKING STEALING HIS MONEY???” Tax Man fumed

“No sir, he has to pay taxes.” The Agent replied

“NO! THE LOTTERY IS ALREADY A TAX ON THE POOR! YOU FUCKERS MAKE HIM POOR EVERY DAY OF HIS
GODDAMN LIFE AND WHEN HE FINALLY GETS RICH YOU WANT TO TAKE IT AWAY FROM HIM ALL OVER
AGAIN!” Tax Man screamed as he worked himself into a frenzy.

“Calm down sir” The Agent replied, backing away

Something caught fire in Tax Man and it was quickly igniting the fury of the other Kings.

“Tell me why. TELL ME WHY MAN?” Richter cried. “Why you gotta fuck with me?!?! Is it because I’m a
Kottonmouth King?”
Lou Dog came in yelling “You tax me when I sell. You tax me when I buy. You tax me when I live, then
you shit pigeons have the audacity to fucking tax me when I die. Where do you dumb bitches get off on
this shit?”

By now there was a fucking scene up in the Kings Krib. The Kings were approaching together and starting
to form a circle around the agents. They were fucking with the whole Kottonmouth Klique. And if this
fire didn’t calm down, someone was gonna get Kottonmouth Killed.

Tax Man’s fury was not over. “HOW THE FUCK DO YOU LIVE WITH YOURSELF? YOU’RE JUST A GLORIFIED
FUCKING METER MAID, DOING THE GOVERNMENT’S DIRTY WORK FOR A PAYCHECK AND SOME
BENEFITS. YOU STEAL AND STEAL AND STEAL AND TAKE AND TAKE AND TAKE, BUT FOR WHAT? DENTAL
CARE? 2 WEEKS A YEAR PAID VACATION WITH FLEX TIME? THAT’S HOW MUCH IT TAKES TO BUY YOU,
YOU WORTHLESS FUCK??? DO YOU GO HOME AND JACK OFF THINKING ABOUT HOW MUCH MONEY
YOU STOLE FROM INNOCENT PEOPLE?” * spits * “FUCK YOU!!!” * aggressively throws both middle
fingers right at the agents, one in each of their faces * “I CAN SEE THE LIES AND YOU’RE CALLING THEM
FACTS! I CAN FEEL THE KNIFE TURNING IN MY BACK!!!!”

Saint Dog is getting antsy.

“YEAH!” Daddy X came over to give his two cents.“THE BANKS ARE THE LOAN SHARKS AND EVERYONE’S
IN DEBT! WORLD BANK, POWER AND CONTROL! ISSUING THE MONEY AND THEY’RE DOLLIN’ OUT THE
ROLES! CHARGING WHAT THEY WANT TO WITH THE MONEY THEY CONTROL! I’M SICK OF LIVING IN
THEIR NIGHTMARE AND GIVING THEM MY SOUL!!!”

“Taxes is stealing. Taxes is stealing.” Tax Man starts to chant.

“Taxes is stealing. TAXES IS STEALING. TAXES IS STEALING! TAXES IS STEALING!!!!!” The Kings join in as
they encircle the agents.

The agents read the room. They bolt for the car as the kings chant “TAXES IS STEALING!!!!”. They turn on
the car and book it the fuck out, screeching tires on the way out.

The chants die down. The Kings go silent and pause.

“Government lies, yo. They make my water boil.” Tax Man broke the silence. “I won’t stand for this
bullshit anymore.”

KMK The Movie part 11: Back Taxes

(Illustrative montage of Tax Man’s life comes up on the screen)

Narrator: Tax man. What do we know about Tax Man? Tax Man was discovered by the Kings living in a
cardboard box in an alley behind an industrial building. Clearly the most enigmatic of the bunch, Tax has
a quiet brilliance and a streak of prudence that is missing in the other kings. Tax Man is a mystery
wrapped in a riddle.

So how did Tax come to be the man he is today?

Tax Man was the bastard child of an affair between a straight-laced government forensic tax auditor and
a nomadic free-spirit who never so much as laid eyes on a 1040 in her life. Not only that, she was a child
off the books with no social security number to speak of. She was truly untaxable. This bizarre union
created a child with the agile mind and free spirit of the sixties, but yet also the exacting precision and
sheer power of a forensic tax auditor supported by the full force of the federal government.

Tax Man’s story is not all sunshine and row 78's. Tax’s parents never quite got along. Their initial
attraction was strong enough to hold them together for years. But as time went on, it was only little Tax
Man that was keeping them together. His mother was too much of a free spirit for this kind of situation
and left when Tax was just 4.

His father dutifully raised him, as you would expect from someone dilligent and reliable enough to be a
forensic tax auditor for Uncle Sam. But Tax Man inherited a lot from his mom, and the strict home
environment was too much. At the age of 14, Tax hit the streets and never looked back.

Tax Man’s father always told him that his mom would come back someday. Year after year, Christmas
after Christmas, birthday after birthday, she never returned. His father kept saying it, but as ever year
passed, it seemed more and more like a lie. A government lie.

The streets are a harsh environment, even in sunny southern California. But Tax Man had street smarts
and book smarts. His will to survive and thrive was always strong and he stayed true to who he was.

The rest of the King Klique can intuit the limit of their powers—or at least they could if they weren’t
blazed all day. Tax Man cannot conceive of his own power. No man can intuit the power of Tax Man.
KMK The Movie part 12: It’s four-twenty yo

Tax Man: Five days overdue. So what have they done?

Richter: Fuck if I know. Bitches wanna take my money they’re gonna have to fuckin’ hunt me down and
kill me first.

Tax Man: Usually they wanna get you on a payment plan or some shit. But we’ll keep on rollin’

D Loc: Speakin’ of rollin, IT’S FOUR TWENTY, LET’S ROLL UP SOME OF THAT KINGS BLEND AND GET
FUCKING BLAAAASTED!!!

Daddy X: Start recordin, get this fuckin’ session ON! Bobby B, hit that shit!

Bobby B starts recording as the Kings light up. Joints and blunts and bongs get passed around like
nobody’s business, every fuckin’ eye in the room is redder than the inside of a strawberry pop tart.
Smoke fills the room as Bobby B works the synthesizer into the melody for Grow Room Jam

Richter: You know I was drivin’ in the car with Daddy X today, hittin my bong he’s like… "That's just an
everyday thing for you, huh? That's your reality?"
I was like "yeah"

(Light 'em up
Light 'em up y'all
Light 'em up
Light it up y'all)
….

We just, you know, just keepin' it funky for yall.

Little, hand clap, with the clap.
Yo we sit in a cloud, sittin' in my green room, releasin' my herbs
My green room how we toke

* THUNK * * THUNK THUNK *

Lou Dog: Man, we’re recording what the fuck you wantin’ punk?

* THUNK * * THUNK THUNK *

D loc: X,open up the door and check out what the fuck is up!

Daddy X opens the door to see some square ass motherfucker hangin’ around with a briefcase.
Daddy X:…. whatchu want, grizzly adams?

Dude: Are you the Kottonmouth Kings?

Richter: Better ask your mom and see if she remembers us from last night!

* Kings laugh! *

Dude: I’m Daniel Winston and I represent the largest record label in North America. Today, I’m going to
make you all very rich

Daddy X: ….how are you gonna do that?

Winston:…. I’m going to sign you to our record label! May I come inside?

* Saint Dog starts silently mocking Winston*

Richter: Man, you’re more courteous than I was to your mom last night. I just came right in!

Daddy X: We’re in the middle of a session though…

Richter: Let him in! Come on man…

( Winston sits down on the couch while the Kings are passin’ blunts left and right, coughin like a
mothefucker )

Winston: We know talent when we see it, and you guys are rising stars in a growing demographic. We’re
prepared to offer you a very generous deal if you want to sign with Asscorp

Richter: ASSCORP!

* Kings lose it laughing *

D Loc: Fuckin.. this bitch wants to sign us with Asscorp???

Lou Dog: Asscorp? Like… * farts *

(Saint Dog farts)

Daddy X: Come on guys.. Asscorp is big business. They run all the major record labels.

Tax Man: Yo man, if we’re gonna sign with Asscorp, let’s give them a song! Bobby B, hit that shit!

(“Bobby B pulls up a fart sound and starts playing it in different notes and keys on the synthesizer to the
tune of Life Rolls On “)

D Loc: Another fart gone… *fart fart*

Another fart gone… *fart fart*

Sittin in my livin’ room fartin’ on some noobs … (pauses, starts cracking up)

( Kings laughing again, coughing up blunt smoke)

Winston: If I can just get you to read this contract, you could bring in half a million dollars in royalties by
next year. All you’ll need to do is sign on the dotted line.

Richter: Half a million dollars!?!? So I could buy your mom for a million nights then?

D Loc: Contract schmontract

Winston: Well, if you’d just--

Lou Dog: Blontract quonbract lombract awnbract

Richter: momract momtract I banged your momtract

It was 4/20. The Kings were high as shit and this wasn’t going anywhere. Winston has one more trick up
his sleeve

Winston: Okay then, I’m going to get some lunch. If this contract isn’t signed by the time I come back,
I’m taking the papers with me and you’ll never see this chance again.

Winston slammed the door behind him, leaving the contract on the table

KMK The Movie Part 13: Deliberation

Daddy X: Guys…. Lets do it!

Tax Man: Now hold on, I’m too fuckin’ high for this contract shit. I can’t even read this bullshit I’m so
blazed

D Loc: Yeah man, what if they want our fuckin’ souls or somethin?

Daddy X: They don’t want our souls, they just want to make some money. And we need fuckin’ money.

Bobby B: I’m in man, KMK for lyfe

Lou Dog: But we’re the Kottonmouth Kings, we can do it on our own! It might take longer and cost more
money, but we’re fuckin’ killin’ it. Richter, whatchu think?

Richter: Look at my shit.

The Kings look at Richter quizzically.

Richter: Look at my shit!

D Loc: I don’t wanna see your shit you sick bastar--

Richter: This is the fuckin’ American dream. This is my fuckin’ dream y’all!

All this shit! Look at my shit!

I got.. I got BONGS! Every fuckin’ color

I got designer V dubs

I got Acapulco Gold. Motherfuckin Kings Blend!

I got Half Baked. On repeat. HALF BAKED ON REPEAT! Constant, y’all!

I got money smell. I got weed smell. Mix it up with that In-n-out. Smell nice? I smell nice!

Daddy X: We get the po--

Richter: Look at my shit! Look at my shit! I got fuckin’ Kool Aid, shurikens, I got sais, I got---

Tax Man: Alright, let’s take a vote. All Kings for say YEA! All against say NAY!

KMK The Movie Part 14: Uncertainty

(dramatic pause)

–
KMK The Movie part 15: Excecution

(All the Kings raise their hands)

Tax Man: The YEAs have it!!!!!!

(Kings celebrate jubilantly and pack some more bongloads)

(Winston enters the room, lays the contract on the table and starts handing out pens)

Winston: Well fellas, I hope you brought some waders cause you’re gonna be knee deep in pussy!!!

(Pakelika put both pens in his mouth like a walrus and signs the contract like that… all the other Kings
sign normally but it's obvious they're fuckin roasted)

KMK The Movie part 16: The Fine Print

THIS CONTRACT (the "Agreement") dated this 20th day of April, 1998
BETWEEN:

Asscorp of 666 Big Money Hustla Avenue

(the "Company")

OF THE FIRST PART

AND -

Daddy X of 420 High Street

AND -

D-Loc of 420 High Street

AND -

Saint Dog of 420 High Street

AND -

Lou Dog of 420 High Street

AND -

Pakelika (Big P) of 420 High Street

AND -

DJ Bobby B of 420 High Street

AND -

Timothy McNutt of 420 High Street

AND -

Tax Man of 420 High Street

(individually and collectively known as the "Artist")

1.The Artist is a professional entertainer and recording artist known as "Kottonmouth

Kings".
2.The Company is in the business of producing Master Recordings, or causing such
Master Recordings to be produced as well as manufacturing, distributing and selling
records directly or through third parties.
3.The Artist wishes the Company to produce Master Recordings of the Artist's
performances and market these Master Recordings.
4.The Company wishes to produce and market the Master Recordings subject to the
following terms and conditions. IN CONSIDERATION OF and as a condition of the
Company producing and distributing certain recordings for the Artist and other valuable
consideration, the receipt and sufficiency of which consideration is hereby
acknowledged, the parties to this Agreement agree as follows:
5.Term
6.The Term of this Agreement will consist of an initial period (the "Initial Contract
Period") during which the Artist and the Company will cooperate to produce Master
Recordings suitable for the production of one Album or LP and will continue for a further
twelve months after the delivery of the Master Recording to allow the Company time to
manufacture, market and distribute the product in the Territory.
7.The initial Contract Period and any extensions and suspensions will be referred to as
the "Term".
8.Production
9.The Company agrees to produce Master Recordings consisting of songs written and
performed by the Artist (the "Songs"). The resulting recording (the "Recording") will
include music of not less than none minutes in playing duration and will consist of not
less than none tracks, and will be of a quality which is at least equal to an industry
standard normally produced for commercial distribution.
10.The Artist agrees to re-record each Composition until the recording meets an
acceptable standard of technical and commercial quality, in the joint discretion of the
Artist and the Company, for the manufacture and sale of records.
11.No Recording made under this Agreement will apply in reduction of the Artist's
Recording Commitment to the Company if it is a Composition previously recorded by
the Artist, or if it embodies a Composition which the Artist is legally prohibited from
recording. A "best of" or "greatest hits" LP will not apply in reduction of the Artist's
Recording Commitment.
12.Exclusivity
13.For the Term of this Agreement, the Artist will provide services as a recording artist
exclusively for the Company within the Territory and the Artist will not provide services
as a recording artist for any other entity whatsoever. In the capacity of a recording
artist, the Artist will perform services at reasonable times and places designated by the
Company and such services will include, but not be limited to, rehearsing, recording
and editing with the purpose of making a commercially viable Recording.
14.The Artist will not re-record, remix, reproduce, manufacture or distribute or make
available or allow to be made available in any manner any of the Recordings or
Compositions generated under this Agreement within 9,999 years after the termination
of this Agreement.
15.Dates and Locations of Recording Sessions
16.For the purposes of this Agreement, the Artist will provide its services as a recording
artist and will make themselves available at 420 High Street commencing on April 20,
1998 and ending on December 31, 2117.
17.Costs
18.The Company will pay or get a Label to pay all recording costs that are reasonable
and generally accepted in the industry including, but not limited to, cost of producer,
arranger, studio time, background musicians, background vocalists, A&R man as well as
reasonable costs related to Album cover art, production and promotion. All such costs
will be charged against the Artist's royalties. If the Artist fails to appear or is late in
appearing as designated by the Company, the Artist agrees to pay any and all related
reasonable costs incurred by the Company.
19.Selection Control
20.Selections to be included in the Recording under this Agreement will be chosen in
the sole discretion of the Artist. The Artist may submit material at all times.
21.Completion and Release
22.The Recording will be completed and prepared for release and distribution on or
before November 17, 2017.
23.Interference
24.A party to this Agreement will be free of liability where the party is prevented from
executing their obligations under this Agreement in whole or in part due to force
majeure, such as earthquake, typhoon, flood, fire, and war or any other unforeseen and
uncontrollable event where the party has communicated the circumstance of the said
event to any and all other parties and taken any and all appropriate action to mitigate
the said event. If the Artist refuses to rehearse and record when reasonably requested
by the Company, the Company may suspend its obligations under this Agreement. The
length of time this Agreement is under such suspension will be added to the then
current Contract Period .
25.Title
26.The title of the Album consisting of the Recording will be chosen in the sole
discretion of the Artist.
27.Equitable Relief
28.The recording services of the Artist are of a special and unique nature the loss of
which cannot be reasonably or adequately compensated for in damages and such
breach may cause the Company irreparable injury and damage. In addition to any other
rights and relief offered under this Agreement, the Company will be entitled to
injunctive and other equitable relief to prevent any breach of this Agreement by the
Artist.
29.Assignment of Exclusive Rights by the Artist
30.Upon the Company performing all of its obligations under this Agreement as
required, the Artist will assign to the Company all of its rights, title, and interest in and
to the following property, for distribution and commercial exploitation in the Territory:
31.the Songs;
32.the Artist's performance of the Songs contained in the Recording; and
33.the title of the Recording.
34.The Artist waives as against the Company the benefits of any and all moral rights
and agrees not to assert any moral rights against the Company relating to the
Recording delivered under this Agreement. Under this section, the Artist retains the
right to be identified as author of compositions embodied upon the Recording.
35.License of Name and Image
36.The Artist grants to the Company and to parties authorized by the Company the
following perpetual rights:
37.the right to use and publish the Artist's name, likeness, and biographical material for
advertising purposes in connection with the Recording made under this Agreement;
38.the right to manufacture, distribute, license or otherwise use within the Territory the
Recording made under this Agreement including the right to combine and sell with
recordings of performances of other artists; and
39.the right to perform the Recordings publicly.
40.Copyright
41.The Company and parties authorized by the Company will have the right to secure
copyright in the Company's name as owner and author on any and all Master
Recordings made under this Agreement and to renew such copyright in the Company's
name in perpetuity.
42.Distribution
43.The Company will have the exclusive rights to and control over distribution,
promotion and use of the Recording and the Artist throughout the Territory. The
Company will have exclusive control over all matters regarding the media and press
releases.
44.Group
45.The word "Artist" in this Agreement refers individually and collectively to the
members of the group professionally known as "Kottonmouth Kings" (the "Group"). This
Agreement and all of the terms, conditions, warranties and other obligations contained
in this Agreement are binding jointly and severally on all current and future individual
members of the Group.
46.The Artist warrants, represents and agrees that the Artist will perform together as a
group for the duration of this Agreement. The Artist will provide the Company with
timely written notice if any present or future individual member of the Group fails to
perform its obligations under this Agreement or leaves the Group. All individual
members of the Group will remain bound by this Agreement and in the event of a
breach of this Agreement by one or more members of the Group, the Company will be
entitled to take action including, but not limited to:
47.terminating this Agreement with respect to that individual; or
48.terminating this Agreement in its entirety.
49.Warrants and Representations of the Artist
50.The Artist warrants and represents that:
51.the Artist is under no obligation or prohibition that would prevent entering this
Agreement;
52.the Artist is not affected or hindered in any way by any disability that would prevent
full performance of this Agreement;
53.use of the songs, music, lyrics, or compositions used in the Recording will not violate
any law or infringe on the copyright or rights of any other person not a party to this
Agreement;
54.no person other than the Company has any right to use any songs, music, lyrics, or
compositions used in the Recording; and
55.the Artist will not enter into any other agreement of any kind that would interfere
with the Artist's ability to perform its obligations under this Agreement.
56.Use of Group Name
57.The Artist warrants and represents that:
58.the Artist is and will be the sole owner of the name "Kottonmouth Kings" (the
"Group Name") as well as any other future name of the Group;
59.the Artist has and will have and retain the right to grant use of the Group Name for
the duration of this Agreement;
60.the Artist will not use any other professional or performing name for the duration of
this Agreement; and
61.the Artist will not grant or allow to be granted use of the Group Name to any other
entity other than the Company during the Term of this Agreement.
62.Where the Agreement is terminated with respect to an individual, the individual so
terminated will not be entitled to use the Group Name nor to record, re-record,
perform, manufacture or distribute any Recording made under this Agreement. The
Company will not unreasonably withhold approval of any individual engaged to replace
a terminated Group member or any individual that is otherwise added to the Group.
63.Royalties
64.The Company will endeavor to enter into a distribution agreement with a record
distribution company in order to commercially exploit the Recording made under this
Agreement. The Company will collect royalties and licensing fees (collectively the
"Royalties") with respect to the distribution of the Recording. The Royalties will be used
to satisfy all costs incurred by the Company to record, produce, market and distribute
the Recording. Under no circumstance will the Artist be liable where the Royalties are
insufficient to satisfy such costs. Any Royalties remaining will be allocated and
distributed between the Company and the Artist, in the following proportion:
65.twenty-five percent (25%) to the Company; and
66.seventy-five percent (75%) to the Artist.
67.Royalty Accounting
68.The Company will have the right to collect all gross income under this Agreement
and will provide timely, detailed semi-annual reports to the Artist showing all revenue
received and all expenses incurred. The Company will provide any payment due to the
Artist with such reports. The Artist will have four years from the time of receipt to
provide notice of objection to any issue relating to any report.
69.All royalties payable will be subject to statutory minimums where applicable.
70.The royalties payable will be divided equally between the members of the Group.
71.Audit
72.On written notice to the Company of at least five business days, the Artist may
request unrestricted access to the books and records of the Company for review or
photocopying regarding any accounting or financial issue or issues relating to this
Agreement. Such books and records will include, but not be limited to, detailed listings
of all expenses and revenues relating to this Agreement. The Company will maintain
such books and records in a readily available form and according to generally accepted
accounting practices. If the Company fails to provide reasonable cooperation under this
section, the Company will be deemed to be in breach of this Agreement.
73.Controlled Composition
74.The Artist grants to the Company an irrevocable non-exclusive license, under
copyright, to reproduce each Controlled Composition on Records and to distribute the
Recording in the United States of America and Canada.
75.Mechanical royalties will be payable for each Controlled Composition on Net Sales of
Records and at the following rates:
76.For the United States, at a royalty per selection (the "U.S. Per Selection Rate") equal
to zero percent (50%) of the minimum statutory per selection rate, and without regard
to playing time, effective on the date such recording is delivered by the Artist and
received as satisfactory by the Company.
77.For Canada, at a royalty per selection (the "Canadian Per Selection Rate") equal to
zero percent (50%) of the statutory per selection rate, and without regard to playing
time, effective on the date such recording is delivered by the Artist and received as
satisfactory by the Company, or, if there is no statutory rate in Canada on such date,
zero percent (50%) of the prevailing rate, and without regard to playing time, agreed
upon by the Canadian recording industry and the Canadian music publishing industry or
its mechanical collection representative in effect on the date such Recording is delivered
according to this Agreement.
78.Where a particular Recording appears more than once on a record the Company will
pay mechanical royalties as if the Recording appeared only once.
79.The Company will establish a separate account with respect to mechanical royalties
and such account will not be cross-collateralized with production and recording
expenses relating to this Agreement.
80.Non-Circumvention
81.The Artist will not detrimentally interfere with the Company's distribution of the
Recording or enter into a contract that is inconsistent with the Company's right to
distribute the Recording.
82.Assignment
83.The rights and obligations of the Company existing under this Agreement are
personal and unique, and can not be assigned by the Company without the prior written
consent of the Artist.
84.The rights and obligations of the Artist existing under this Agreement are personal
and unique, and can not be assigned without prior written consent of the Company.
85.Performance Causing the Company Liability
86.The Company may withhold its permission for the Artist to perform publicly or to
permit the performance of its Recording through any media outlet that is not in the
public's best interest or the Company's best interest or does not meet the standards of
public decency in the business region in which the Company operates. If the Artist
participates in any public venture that might cause the Company liability, the Company
has the right to immediately terminate this Agreement for breach of this provision.
87.Life Insurance
88.The Artist will assist the Company in obtaining life insurance on the Artist, including
submitting to a physical examination, where the Company wishes to obtain such life
insurance.
89.Independent Contractors
90.This Agreement does not and will not be construed to create a partnership or joint
venture between the parties of the Agreement. It is specifically understood and agreed
that the Artist is an independent contractor.
91.Binding Effect
92.The obligations, rights and benefits of this Agreement will be binding upon the
Artist's successors, permitted assigns, executors, administrators, beneficiaries, and
representatives, and the Company's successors and permitted assigns.
93.Governing Law
94.The Company and the Artist submit to the jurisdiction of the courts of the State of
California for the enforcement of this Agreement or any arbitration award or decision
arising from this Agreement. This Agreement will be enforced or construed according to
the laws of the the State of California.
95.Covenant Of Good Faith and Fair Dealing
96.The Company and the Artist agree to perform their obligations under this
Agreement, in all respects, in good faith.
97.Notices
98.Any notices or delivery required by this Agreement will be deemed completed when
hand-delivered, delivered by agent, or seven days after being placed in the post,
postage prepaid, to the parties at the addresses listed below or as the parties may later
designate in writing. Company
99.Company Name: Asscorp Company Address: 666 Big Money Hustla Avenue
Company Phone: (555) 818-4220 Artist(s)
100.Artist Name: Daddy X Artist Address: 420 High Street
101.Artist Name: D-Loc Artist Address: 420 High Street
102.Artist Name: Saint Dog Artist Address: 420 High Street
103.Artist Name: Lou Dog Artist Address: 420 High Street
104.Artist Name: Pakelika (Big P) Artist Address: 420 High Street
105.Artist Name: DJ Bobby B Artist Address: 420 High Street
106.Artist Name: Timothy McNutt Artist Address: 420 High Street
107.Artist Name: Tax Man Artist Address: 420 High Street
108.General Provisions
109.Time is of the essence in this Agreement.
110.This Agreement may be executed in counterparts. Facsimile signatures are binding
and are considered to be original signatures.
111.Any and all members of the Kottonmouth Kings agree to forefeit any and all rare
earth metals in any form and in any type of container, and any means or method of
accessing said rare earth metals, which they possess to Asscorp immediately in a
manner of Asscorp’s choosing. Asscorp may choose to secure aforementioned metals or
means at any time and in any manner, with or without warning.
112.Headings are inserted for the convenience of the parties only and are not to be
considered when interpreting this Agreement. Words in the singular mean and include
the plural and vice versa. Words in the masculine gender include the feminine gender
and vice versa. Words in the neuter gender include the masculine gender and the
feminine gender and vice versa.
113.In the event that a party is forced to obtain an attorney to enforce the terms of this
Agreement, the party prevailing in such action of enforcement will be entitled to the
recovery of attorney's fees incurred in such action.
114.This contract may be modified or changed only by an instrument in writing
executed by both the Company and the Artist.
115.This Agreement is the entire agreement between the parties and all negotiations
and understandings have been included in this Agreement. Statements or
representations which may have been made to the Company by the Artist or to the
Artist by the Company, in the negotiation stages of this Agreement may in some way
be inconsistent with this final written Agreement. All such statements are hereby
declared to be of no value. Only the written terms of this Agreement will bind the
parties.
116.All definitions set forth in Exhibit "A" will apply to this Agreement and are
incorporated by reference into this Agreement.
117.Independent Legal Counsel
118.THE ARTIST ACKNOWLEDGES THAT IT HAS BEEN ADVISED TO SEEK
INDEPENDENT LEGAL COUNSEL OF ITS CHOICE WITH RESPECT TO ITS
UNDERSTANDING OF THE TERMS, PROVISIONS AND OBLIGATIONS OUTLINED IN THE
AGREEMENT AND ANY ATTACHMENTS TO IT. THE ARTIST WAIVES ITS RIGHT TO SEEK
INDEPENDENT LEGAL ADVICE. THE ARTIST COVENANTS AND AGREES THAT IT FULLY
UNDERSTANDS THIS AGREEMENT AND WILL BE BOUND BY THIS AGREEMENT. IN
WITNESS WHEREOF the parties have duly affixed their signatures under hand and seal
on this 17th day of November, 2017.
Asscorp

per: ____________________(seal)

Daddy X

D-Loc

Saint Dog

Lou Dog

Pakelika (Big P)

DJ Bobby B

Timothy McNutt

Tax Man

Exhibit "A"

DEFINITIONS
"A&R" - An A&R person is an employee of a record company who is in charge of finding
and developing new talent including matching specific artists to appropriate
performance material.

"Album" or "LP" - one 12-Inch 33 1/3 r.p.m. record, CD, or its equivalent, having at
least none tracks and none minutes total playing time.

"Composition" - a single continuous musical performance, including but not limited to

musical spoken words, bridging passages and medleys.

"Controlled Composition" - a Composition owned or controlled and most often written

by the Artist.

"Cross-Collateralize" - to secure a pre-existing debt with an unrelated or independent

asset or revenue source.

"Delivery" and "Deliver" - with respect to Master Recordings to be Delivered under this
Agreement. Complete performance by the Artist of all of the Artist's recording
obligations under this Agreement to the approval by the Company.

"Distributor" - a company which has the right to manufacture and/or distribute Records
derived from the Recording made pursuant to this Agreement.

"Label" - a company that produces musical recordings for commercial distribution.

"Master Recording" - every recording of sound or sound plus video, by any method now
known or discovered in the future, which is used in the recording, production and
manufacture of records or Video. Under this Agreement a Master Recording of a single
song will be no less than 2.25 minutes in length.

"Mechanical Royalties" - Mechanical royalties are required to be paid under copyright

law and are fees paid to the songwriter for the right to use and distribute a song on an
Album or CD. Mechanical Royalties are paid at a rate per Album or CD sold or
distributed.

"Net Sales" - Eighty Five (85%) percent of gross sales for which the Company receives
payment and which are not returned for refund or exchange.

“Rare Earth Metals” - Metals found sparsely including but not limited to gold,
neodymium, yttrium, europium, cerium, terbium, dysprosium, praseodymium,
scandium, gadolinium, lutetitum, thulium, ytterbium, holmium, prometheum, rhodium,
platinum, gold, ruthenium, iridium, osmium, palladium, rhenium, silver, and indium.
This definition is wide and includes metals outside of the classification set forth by the
IUPAC.

"Recording Costs" - all costs representing direct expenses incurred by the Company in
connection with the pre-production, production and post-production of Master
Recordings made under this Agreement that are customarily considered "Recording
Costs" in the record industry.

"Records" and "Phonograph Records" - all forms of reproductions, now known or

discovered in the future, manufactured or distributed primarily for personal or private
use, including records of sound alone but excluding Video.

"Territory" - means the United States of America and Canada.

"Video" - an audio-visual work consisting of a Master Recording of one or more

Compositions synchronized with a moving visual image most usually of the Artist
performances.

KMK The Movie part 17: Heeeeeelp!

"Heeeeeeeeeeelp!" Saint Dog screamed

KMK The Movie part 18: Kottonmouth Kings don’t stand for a gang

Saint Dog: Heeeeelp! Police!

Tax Man: Shit! Hide the shit, fuck!

Bobby B ran out back and kickstarted the dirtbike. D loc ran to the upstairs window and started tossing
out ounce after ounce to Bobby. One after another he stuffed them into his backpack and rode off,
making a clean getaway from the scene admist all the commotion..

*BUMP* *BUMP BUMP*

That's the sound of the ram as it’s bustin' through the front!!!

*BUMP* *BUMP BUMP*

D Loc: Hey yo Daddy X get your shit cleaned up!

The solid wood door was starting to buckle, buying the Kings some time but they didn't have much left.

Tax Man took what he could find and threw it in the fireplace. Saint Dog grabbed the pipes and bongs
and ran to hide them.

DEA! FREEZE MOTHERFUCKERS!!!!

In an instant the house lit up as the cops threw flashbang after flashbang into each room.

"CLEAR" They yelled, sweeping back and forth through each room.

Tax Man and Lou Dog were the first to get cuffed. Daddy X hid under his bed but the dogs found him and
dragged him by the arm until he finally gave up.

Pakelika made it a little longer. See, Pakelika was wearing some fly ass threads and blended right into
the wallpaper for a minute. But soon enough he got cuffed too.

Saint Dog never goes down without a fight... but Saint thought he might be better off taking this fight to
court. He was outnumbered and outgunned for the moment.

D Loc got caught while running from the house.

Richter was the last. He figured he'd better go out in style. He lit a cigarette and climbed out on the roof.

"GET THE FUCK DOWN AND SURRENDER YOURSELF NOW!"

"Yo man, I ain't done smokin'. Let me finish this smoke."

And by the time he had finished an officer had climbed up through the window. He got down on his
knees, put his hands behind his head, and arrested he was.

“WHY THE FUCK DID YOU MAKE ME CLIMB THIS ROOF YOU LITTLE SHIT!!!” the officer screamed at
Richter

“Well I’m sorry officer….”

“WELL THAT’S MORE--”

Richter flopped over on his stomach and wiggled both his middle fingers around tauntingly. “FUCK THE
POLICE!!!”

For the next few hours the police tore the house up and down. The Kings were separated from one
another and questioned.

Agent: “D Loc. Can you spell your name for me?”

D Loc: “Yeah bitch… D – L O C

D is for the Dank I breathe

Dash is for the hash being passed

L is for my love, everlast

O is for the outdoor organic

C the confidence in me

Period, to let you know that I’m serious”

Officer: ….your parents put a period after your name? Are you serious?

D Loc: Bitch, I ain’t sayin’ nothin. Fuck off.

Agent: Johnny Richter. Is that your legal name?

Richter: Ask your mom

( Agent smacks Johnny Richter)

Agent: Johnny, where’s the fucking weed. We know you’re the cats supplying all the highs. We know
you’ve been smokin’ on that cloned alien. Now if you tell us, we’ll give you a good deal

Richter: (flashes tattoo) KMK FOR LIFE, BEEYOTCH! I ain’t sayin’ shit!

Agent: Pakelika. The Big P. We know you’re the big fish in this operation. We know you’ve got pounds
and pounds of the crip and you wouldn’t just part with it. Now, are you gonna help yourself and talk to
us?

(Pakelika vibrates his finger back and forth to indicate no)

Agent: Tax Man… We’ve been looking for you for a long time. Ever since you left the streets we’ve had
spies on you. Now what’s it gonna be Tax? We know you know where the shit is, why don’t you tell us?

Tax Man: I’d like to exercise my fifth amendment right to remain silent. Cease all further questions until
my attorney arrives.

(Agent leaves in a huff)

Agent: Saint Dog…. You’ve got quite the arrest record here. This is a serious crime. We’ve got the FBI,
DEA, and ATF involved. You could do a lot of hard time like this like Big Hoss.
(Saint Dog says nothing)

Agent: I’ve got two choices for you. (Pulls out a paper bag with some liquor) You can have this bottle of
brandy, or… (pulls out a clock) you can watch this clock while you rot in a cell with your buddy. Now
what’s it gonna be?

Saint Dog: It’s gonna be get off my nizzos bitch, fuck off

Agent: Lou Dog. Lou Dog Lou Dog Lou---

Lou Dog: FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIF

The interrogating agent goes to his boss.

“Looks like we’re getting nowhere with these Kings. Plus, we only found a bong, two pipes, and roughly
half an ounce. Now what?”

“Let’s work the RICO angle. I think Richter’s the weak link.”

Agent: Johnny… let’s have a little chat, shall we?

Richter: So you talked to your mom, huh?

Agent: I love those tattoos. I couldn’t help but notice that every member of the Kings has a tattoo just
like that.

Richter: Must run in the family, your mom loves my tats too

Agent:Well, it looks to me like you’re all in this together. And we have a tool for people like you. It’s
called RICO, the Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act. If any one of your crew flips, you
all go away for a very, very long time

Richter: But who’s gonna fuck your mom if we go to prison?

Agent (frustrated): Look, you motherfuckers are in a gang and---

Richter: KOTTONMOUTH KINGS DON’T STAND FOR A GANG!

KOTTONMOUTH KINGS JUST LET THEY NUTS HANG!

EVERYDAY THANG HOW WE HANG HOW WE HANG!

KOTTONMOUTH KINGS ALL DO THEY OWN THANG!!!!

(The interrogating agent heads back to his boss)

“I don’t think the RICO angle is going to work, sir.”

KMK The Movie part 18: Face Facts

The Kings were uncuffed. The FBI and ATF left. There simply wasn't enough evidence to file major
charges, so they were cited for some minor bullshit and let go.

D Loc got in the cadillac first. The other Kings followed. Daddy X rolled up a fat fuckin’ joint.

Daddy X: What's the plan?

Richter took a slow, deliberate bong rip. He didn't cough.

Richter: Let's plant the land.

D loc: I ain’t plantin’ shit today, I’m beat.. let’s go smoke

Richter: Da

It was an intense fuckin' day. All the Kings wanted to do was sit back and smoke a few bong rips, light up
a few joints, blow through some kief, and hit some honey oil out of the gravity bong. And that was a
good plan, but there was real shit on the horizon.

Pakelika: We gotta hit the road soon, headin' up to... fuckin' Alameda for that show tonight.

Tax Man: How we gonna hit that show without any fuckin' weed? And where the fuck is Bobby B?

(Cuts to a montage of Bobby B hiding in the woods under some leaves, staying low to the ground,
keepin' a look out while his dirt bike sits right beside him under a camoflage cover. The sun goes down
and Bobby B loads up the weed, heads back to the Kings homebase, checks the perimeter to make sure
everything's good, then comes back in)

“WHASSUP FUCKERS!” Bobby screamed as he busted in the door

D loc: Dude, the fuckin' man of the hour right here. Break out some of those sacks... did you get all of
'em?

Tax Man: Not all, some went up in smoke.

Saint Dog: B, what the fuck happened man?

Bobby B: So I bolted and took the trail through the woods out to the other end of High street. They were
so caught up in the raid they didn’t notice I just bailed out. I didn’t know where the fuck to go so I
parked down at the center. I headed to the store double parked and got a ticket by a midget on a pony. I
instinctively called him “shorty” and he started twitching, snappin’ his fingers, gettin’ all fuckin crazy”

Kings: Whaaaaaaa….

Bobby B: I know right? So while he was bitchin, I snapped out of reality and had a vision. I was racing, in
the fuckin’ lead, but it was a useless race. I realized, fuck, I have a fuckin’ pound and a half of weed in my
backpack and I parked like an asshole, now I’m arguing with a midget cop on a pony and none of this
needs to be happening..

Tax Man: So.. then what?

Bobby B: I apologized and moved me bike, said I was sorry for being an idiot, took my ticket, and got the
fuck out of there. I was too high for that shit. Headed back to the woods and laid low.

Daddy X: Guys, we need to face the facts here.

Richter: Yeah? What are the facts?

Daddy X: We got this record deal. We gotta start workin’ the business and makin’ some real money.
Let’s face facts, let those chips get stacked while systematically our pockets get fat. Kick back, pimp
cadillacs, smoke fuckin’ pounds and flip dime sacks. The ganja business controls America and we’re it’s
voice, let’s get out there and get this message heard.

Bobby B: Yeah! Let’s hit the road and rock the fuck out of Alameda!

Richter: Gotta hit that bong first… let’s pack up the bong! Where’s the bong?
D loc: Yo, Tax, clean up that water will you man? And put some Evian in it so it don’t spoil.

Tax Man: Dude, you know that all water will spoil if you leave it in the bong for a fuckin’ month right?

D loc: No, not Evian!

Lou Dog picks up the bottle of Evian “Naive” he says

D Loc: What?

Lou Dog: “Evian is Naive spelled backwards.”

D loc: Shut up Lou Dog

Lou Dog: No man, I’m serious! They’ve got a fact under each bottle cap, you ever read it?

D loc: Nuh-uh bitch, ain’t no facts, jMust water.

Lou dog: No man, face the facts. Evian fact #5192, if your hand is bigger than your face then you’re a
stupid gullible limpdick pansy.
Meanwhile, at Downing International Capital Holdings HQ, the CFO Richardson is briefing the CEO Mr.
Allenworth...

Richardson: Sir, there’s been a bit of a snag.

Allenworth: What king of a snag?

Richardson: Well, something’s missing from the paperwork. (He passes the paperwork across the desk
to Allenworth)

Allenworth: (pauses) Well, go fucking fix it then!

Richardson: How the fuck do you want me to fix this shit?

Allenworth: Well, it’s your ass on the line so you’d better figure out something!

Richardson:….

Allenworth:….

Richardson: I guess we do have one option. But it’s a little bit insane

Allenworth: I don’t care how fucking insane it is, just take care of it right the fuck now!
KMK The Movie part 19: Wickit Klowns

D Loc: Hey yo X, pack that bong up!

Daddy X: Fool you pack that shit, I rolled the last 4 joints.

Tax Man: Maan.. How about we pack all the fuckin' bongs? We don't need to fight about all this shit

Richter: Shut up Tax Man, stop being such a pussy!

*THUNK* *THUNK THUNK*

Lou Dog: Yo, who's that?

*THUNK* *THUNK THUNK*

D loc: I think someone's at the door man... Hey yo X, answer that door!

Daddy X:....man, you bark out one more order I'm gonna stick my dick in that honey oil you stashed
away. You're gonna vape part of my dick.

D-loc: You're gross. What the hell is wrong with you??? Just get the door you pothead!

*THUNK* *THUNK THUNK*

(Daddy X opens up the door, only to see... THE INSANE CLOWN POSSE!!!!)

Daddy X: Oh shit! Violent Jay and Shaggy 2 dope!!!

Violent Jay: And you're Daddy X, huh?

Daddy X: Correct! Who'd you expect?

(Violent Jay punches Daddy X in the fuckin' nose. He lets out a shriek as he stumbles backwards to catch
himself)

Daddy X: WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR??? We love you guys, we keep our fridge stocked with plenty
of Faygo! D loc, get him some Faygo now!!

Shaggy: Bitch we don't want your fuckin' Faygo faggot.

Violent J: Alright motherfuckers, listen up. We can do this shit the easy way or we can do it the hard
way.

Lou Dog: We aren't takin' shit from you motherfuckers with your facepaint and shit! Fuck the fuck off!

Shaggy pushes Lou Dog and his back slams into a bookkcase, knocking down CDs and breaking bongs

Violent Jay: I said, listen up mothafackos!!!! Now here's what's gonna happen. You guys are gonna sign
this contract and we'll be on our way. I don't want no shit from you dumb bitches. We roll with the
motherfuckin' hatchet and don't have time to fuck with some stoned ass fools from California.
Tax Man: Fuck off! We're not signing anything without talking to a lawyer!

(Shaggy punches Tax Man right in the gut and he doubles over in pain, then repeatedly kicks him in the
side until he cries for it to stop)

Violent Jay: Now bitches, we don't want a fight. Just sit down at the table, pack your little bong, and get
a pen so you can sign on the dotted line and we'll be on our way.

Richter: Yo, fuck you and your mom! Get the fuck out of here unless you want to meet with the fury of
the Kottonmouth Kings Klique!

Bobby B: Yeah! Fuck off or we're gonna kill you!

Saint dog bum rushes Shaggy, but Shaggy knocks him out cold with a well timed uppercut!!!! The Kings
realize that their only chance is to make a coordinated attack so they start closing in on Violent Jay and
Shaggs 2 Dope. As they start closing in, Violent Jay pulls out a motherfuckin' hatchet and throws it
straight at the 6 foot glass bong on the mantle, shattering it into a million pieces. Shit is about to get real
up in this bitch!!!!

The Kings hesitate for a second, then all rush in at the same time.

Shaggy: Alright, these bitches asked for it!

Pakelika comes in first with a lanky right roundhouse. Violent Jay blocks it, then grabs his foot and Big P
has his own momentum used against him to send him flying over Violent Jay’s head. But before Pak can
hit the ground, Shaggy pulls some Ninja shit and grabs the top of Pak’s underwear, turning this flying
monster into a 300 pound atomic wedgie! Pak passes out just as he hits the ground from the shock and
pain.
Lou Dog starts deking back and forth. He saw what Jay and Shaggy can do, so his strategy is to fake them
out. Shaggs sees this and throws a wimpy right punch which Lou Dog uses as a chance to attack. Shaggs
does some ninjitsu shit and turns Lou Dog's punch into a killer headlock. Shaggs and Jay follow up with a
massive noogie as Lou Dog screams in humiliation! They toss him aside and wait for the next King to
attack.

D Loc bounces off the fuckin’ wall with a crazy spinning hammerfist heading right towards Shaggy! But
Violent Jay grabs D-loc’s nipple, twisting in the opposite direction. D loc lets out a scream as he hits the
ground holding his chest!

Bobby B thinks that he should keep his distance. He starts throwing records as a distraction to buy
himself time. But Jay and Shaggs aren't down with this shit. Violent Jay kicks in the dining room table
and it hits B right in the stomach, causing him to retch and cough in pain. They aren't done yet. Shaggs
licks his own pinky finger, does a somersault onto the table, and shoves his pinky right in B's ear! Bobby
B is absolutely disgusted, writhing around in discomfort, and tries to run off. But Shaggs knocks him out
cold, trapped behind the table.

Tax Man drops from the ceiling, swinging chains from both arms! Violent Jay and Shags take a mega hit
and lose balance!!

But these Juggalos are tough as nails. Violent Jay kicks Tax Man towards Shaggy as they both swing the
chains to tie Tax Man in a knot. They pants tax man and hook the chains up to the wall. Tax Man falls
over, pants around his ankles, no longer able to move.

But Richter! Richter starts throwin' fuckin' bongs out left and right. Shaggs and Jay try to swat the bongs
out of the air but keep getting knocked down. Richter sees his opportunity. He takes one bong in each
end, smashes them both to make super jagged glass weapons, and makes a huge jump towards Shaggy
and Jay! Could this be it?

No!!!! Violent Jay tosses out two ninja stars and they hit the glass weapons, causing them to shatter out
of Richter's hands in mid-air! Shaggy pulls some karate shit and does a flying kick to Richter who is still in
mid-air!
Richter hits the ground, shocked at how quick it all happened. They kick him until he can't get up
anymore, then indian sunburn the fuck out of his arms. Richter writhes in pain, begging for it to stop...

Violent Jay: Looks like we made our point. Let's pull these bitches over to the table and make 'em sign
when they wake up

Saint Dog is still knocked out. Shaggy walks over and ties his shoelaces together for good measure.

Shaggy and Violent Jay start rounding up all the Kings and dragging them over to the table. Dazed,
confused, passed out, and bloody. It's really an awful scene.

Then DADDY X COMES IN SWINGING ON A VINE! With a silent grace, he jumps from the vine and uses a
weed plant fashioned into a makeshift rope to start choking out Violent Jay! Jay is struggling, gagging,
choking, turning red, and trying to toss Daddy X off... but it's not working! Could this be the Kings’ big
break??

Shaggy sees the scene and tosses two ninja stars perfectly, breaking the rope around Violent Jay's neck.
Shaggy runs at full clip and does a wicked ninja kick right over Violent Jay's recovering body and into
Daddy X! X falls to the floor..

Shaggy: Bitch, who the fuck you think you are?

Daddy X: No.... no! I'll sign, I'll sign!!!

Violent Jay: Damn right you'll sign. But we're not done with you yet.

Violent Jay and Shaggy drag Daddy X into the bathroom kicking and screaming.

Daddy X: NOOO! No no no no no no no!

Violent Jay: You could have thought for yourself man. You didn't have to do what they did. All you had to
do was stay true and everything would have been cool.

Shaggy: Yeah bitch! You could have done your own thing like the president does. Been original and
authentic. But you didn't.

Daddy X: NOOOOOOOOOO!!! *blub blub gurgle gurle splash*

Violent Jay and Shaggs 2 Dope hold Daddy X's head in the toilet as they repeatedly flush it.

Shaggy: Who is who or anybody else to review what anybody else do

*dunk*

Violent Jay: And who the fuck is who to tell you

*dunk dunk*

Shaggy: Ask the magic eight ball

*gasp splash gag*

Violent Jay: Call a psychic hotline

*gurgle gurgle splash*

Shaggy: I don't need your opinion on shit cause I got mine

*blub blub cough*

Violent Jay: Think for yourself original and authentic

Violent Jay and Shaggy Pull Daddy X's head out of the toilet. He gasps for air in a panic.

Violent Jay: So... did you think about it yet bitch?

Daddy X: I thought about it! *cough cough* Get the papers!! We'll sign, we'll sign! We'll sign anything!

Shaggy drags Daddy X to the table with the other Kings by his wet hair.

One by one, they sign. Dejected, bleeding, upset, and humiliated. They didn't even have a chance to
read it. But they signed it anyways.

Violent Jay: Well kids there ya have it

The kottonmouth kings and the in-saane clowwwn posse

Hot damn

Shaggy: Those were some real free thinkin individuals huh?

Some underground legends

Violent Jay: But we're not done yet, bitches

Richter: What the fuck more do you want from us?

Violent Jay: Well, we're gonna do a little song. You're gonna get nice and high and we're gonna show the
world just how happy we are about our little friendship.

Shaggy: Yeah bitch, think about it! Bobby B, hit this bong and loop up a phat track!

*Bobby B starts playing around on the synthesizer with a sad look on his face. After 10 seconds he starts
on the melody to Wickit Klowns...*
It's the Wicket, the Wicket, the Wicket Wicket Klowns, 
Blowin' Smoke rings with the Kottonmouth Kings

KMK The Movie Part 20: Addendum

ADDENDUM TO RECORDING CONTRACT

This contract is hereby incorporated by reference into the contract between the Kottonmouth Kings and
Asscorp signed on 4/20/1998 (hereafter referred to as “Contract”)

In paragraph 119 of Contract, add the sentence “This provision shall stay in effect for any member even
if they choose to leave the Kottonmouth Kings.” to the end of the paragraph.

KMK The Movie Part 21: You got problems?

Richter strolled down the busy daytime street, joint in his mouth, happily puffing away. Shit had been
looking up for the Kottonmouth Kings since they landed the recording contract. Money, bitches, weed,
they had it all. There was that unfortunate incident with the Insane Clown Posse, but they're wicked
clowns and you can't win 'em all.

It was a sunny day and Richter was out smelling (and smoking) the flowers, so to speak. Rollin' in and out
of shops, jumpin' on a train maybe.

After a breakfast sandwich and a coffee, Richter strolled parked his butt on a bench and started rollin' a
joint. A scruffy homeless man approached. He was hungry.

"Excuse me sir..." the man spoke, voice cracking "..could you spare some change?"

"Change? The fuck I look like, some kinda ATM?" Richter shot back unthinkingly. "Go get a job."
"I... I had a job. I served this country for years. I fought in the Veitnam war and they got me with Agent
Orange. I try to do what I can but the VA is just terrible. I hate asking for mon---"

"You got problems?" Richter stood up, his voice rising. "I got mine too. There's not enough bud for the
Kottonmouth Krew." Richter lit his joint and walked away as the man's sullen face sunk even lower.

Some days there's just nowhere in the world like Southern Cali.

Richter finished another joint and grabbed some ice cream. As he left the store a black BMW with tinted
windows and a corporate logo slowed down right next to him. The window rolled down and its driver
yelled out "Hey!"

“Yo whaddup! Whozat?” he shot back

“Hey man. You like music?”

“Yeah bitch, I’m a fuckin’ musician!”

“Niiiiice! Yo, we do audio installs and we got some fuckin’ baller speakers.. Like, $3,000 speakers, better
than Clarion”

“Better than Clarion? What that shit gotta do with me?”

“Well, there was a computer glitch and we got extra inventory. We could bring ‘em back but corporate
don’t need that shit, so… you wanna buy ‘em?”

“I ain’t payin’ $3,000 for no speakers”

“Nah man, we’ll give you a good deal. Like, $600”

“Naw bitch, I ain’t need yo speakers”

“Look man, we can’t go back home with ‘em and we can’t drop the car off or corporate’s gonna take em.
So, we’re pretty flexible...”

“Alright, lemme see this shit.”

“Follow us”

The car backs into the alley next to the ice cream shop. Richter walks around the back of the car and the
two men come around back to pop the trunk and show off the goods. The driver hands Richter an
advertisement for the speakers and says “Look at this shit man, these are fuckin’ crazy..”

Richter scans the data sheet, high as a fuckin’ kite. The driver pops the trunk.

As Richter looks up, the passenger grabs Richter in a headlock and the driver quickly injects Richter with
something in his neck!!!!! Ohhhhh shit!!! Richter’s vision starts to fade as he slumps over and the two
men stuff him into the trunk and make a smooth getaway.

KMK The Movie part 22: Bump

Black.
Pitch black.

Richter groggily comes to. He's not sure where he's been or how long, but things are shifting around him
and a low hum permeates his dark environment. His hands are stuck behind his back, tied together.

How did he get here?

Last thing he remembers is.... is.... some bum asking him for spare change?

He shifts around.

*HONK* *HONK HONK*

"Shit!" he thinks to himself "I'm in a fuckin' trunk! I was.. some dickhead wanted to sell me speakers.
Fuck, I gotta get out of here!"

"HEY SHITHEADS! LET ME OUT OF THIS FUCKING TRUNK!!!!!!" Richter screams as he kicks the trunk.

The car swerves left, right, and left again.

*BUMP* *BUMP BUMP*

That's the sound of Johnny Richter as he's thrown around the trunk.

"ALRIGHT FUCKERS! I DON'T KNOW WHO THE FUCK YOU THINK YOU'RE FUCKIN' WITH BUT I'M WITH
THE KOTTONMOUTH KINGS AND IF YOU THINK YOU'RE GONNA GET AWAY---"
*BUMP* *BUMP BUMP*

The car slams on its brakes, throwing Richter to the front!

"I'M TELLIN! YOU BITCHES! FUCK YOU, FUCK ALL Y'ALL, FUCK YOUR MOM! FUCK HER RIGHT IN THE EAR!
IF YOU BITCHES DON'T OPEN UP THIS TRUNK IN FIVE MOTHERFUCKIN' SECONDS I SWEAR TO GOD I'M
GOING TO KILL EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU AND SMOKE YOUR BODIES DOWN TO YOUR STUPID
ASHES IN MY SEVEN FOOT BONG." Richter screams as he kicks the rear seat and trunk, denting the
metal.

Richter realized he was in no position to negotiate. He stayed quiet and planned for escape when they
opened the trunk.

Richter wormed himself into position so that he'd be ready to jump out right when the trunk opens. It
may not work, but it's better than no plan at all. The car slows down to a stop and both doors open.

One deep voice says "Alright Richter. Ready to go?" as the trunk pops.

Richter uses every ounce of force to spring out! He lands on the ground into a tuck and roll, miraculously
landing on his feet! He starts to run!

But they quickly catch up to him. One of the men steps on the heel of his shoe, sending Richter falling
flat on his face.

"Come on Richter" says the man with the deep voice. "There is someone who'd like to meet you." Each
man grabs one arm and drags Richter along. Richter plants his feet on the ground, kicking and dragging
them. He knew he couldn't do anything about it, but he sure as shit wasn't gonna make their job easy.

Richter is dragged into a secret entrance on what looks to be a giant corporate building. With a loud
CLANG, his captors toss him into an elevator that looks like was built in the 1800s. The elevator rattles
and bangs as it goes up and up. A single bell ringing is the only indicator of just how many floors they are
going up.

Richter arrives at the final stage of his elevator journey. The men unlock the heavy metal doors and
open them up. To Richter's surprise, he wasn't in a dank dungeon. The sterile white light reflected off
the while tile floors as men in lab coats scurried around with samples.

Everything about this place seemed utterly... normal. Except for Johnny Richter as he was dragged down
the floors, hands tied behind his back, dragged by two men the size of Buicks.

"HEY YO SCIENCE MOTHERFUCKERS! ARE ANY OF Y'ALL SEEIN' THIS SHIT!" Richter turns to a guy in a
labcoat. "What's up doc. WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE???!?!" The man ignores Richter and
continues to stare at his clipboard.

"HEEEYYYY RAMALAMADINGDONG SOMEBODY HELP ME!!! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU
BITCHES!!!!?? HelllooooooO??!?!?!? I'm gonna fuck your mom!! What, nothing from that???" Richter
continued to yell.

Nobody cared.

The men opened up a door that led to a room containing a single dentists chair, a camera, and a one-
way mirror. Richter spat and cursed as they strapped his arms and legs into the chair. He swore and
yelled and screamed until he thought he was going to pass out.

But nothing.

The men left. Richter was all alone.

KMK The Movie part 23: They’s the people got you down on your knees

Richter was stuck. Like a mouse in a maze, he was caught up in a trap.

The minutes turned to hours. He was still stuck in the chair. Why? Who? No answers had come to him.
Whatever they'd injected into his neck had fully faded.

*sound of footsteps, door creaking open*

"Mr. Richter, Mr. Richter... I've been waiting for you for a long time" said a voice with a medium-thick
russian accent.

"YO! THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM SHIT FOR BRAINS? WHY DID YOU HAVE THESE DUMB
MOTHERFUCKERS ABDUCT ME???"

"In time, you'll come to under---"

"Tell me why! Why you gotta fuck with me???"

"In tim---"

"Is it because I'm a Kottonmouth King? I've got no time for negativity!! Who the fuck are you anyways?"

"You can call me Petrovich. Dr Petrovich."

"I'm gonna call you SHIT SALAD if you don't start telling me what the FUCK is going on here!!!"
Petrovich paced around the room with his hands behind his back. He was a calm man, clearly a man of
science. He spoke with consideration and deliberation.

"Johnny, you are a true mystery. You see, there's something about you that's unique, found nowhere
else in the world."

"Yeah? That's not true."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I wasn't the only one fucking your mom last night."

Petrovich chuckled.

"Johnny, I love to chat with you." Petrovich paused. "But I have work to do. First, I will take a little
sample."

Petrovich pulled out a needle for drawing blood and poked it into Richter's veins in an instant.

"FUCK YOU! SUCK MY DICK! I THINK I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOUR SHIT! MOTHERFUCKER WHEN I GET UP
I'VE GOT THE RIGHT TO BUST YOU IN THE LIP!" Richter yelled as the blood was sucked out of his arm.
"THE KOTTONMOUTH KINGS ARE FROM THE MOTHERFUCKIN' STREET! WE KNOW HOW TO LOW BROW
AND WE KNOW HOW TO CREEP!"

Petrovich removed the needle, leaving a single drop of blood on Johnny's arm. "Richter, Richter,
Richter... You can yell and scream all you'd like, but look where you are. You can't do anything. Like it or
not, you are ours!"

"Yeah bitch? Well THIS IS ONE MOTHERFUCKER YOU WON'T BE CONTROLLIN!"

Petrovich paused and looked at Johnny. He turned around and deliberately walked out the door, sample
in hand, saying nothing. The door shut with a cold thump. Richter was alone again.

Meanwhile, at 420 High Street...

D-Loc: Hey yo X, pack up some of that sweet leaf!

Daddy X: Pack it yourself shitbird, I'm smokin' some original flavor! Kings blend in the chamber, BITCHEZ!

D Loc: Well B boy, how about you get Richter?

Bobby: Man, I ain't seen Richter in like a fuckin' day. I'm not your mom, I don't know where he is all the
time. OHHH! But I can get you some ice for that fresh fuckin' burn!

D-Loc: Shut up fool. No really, where's Johnny? He was going out for breakfast and that was like... a
couple hours ago

Pakelika: I don't know man. Hey, you got the joint?

Lou Dog: Nah, I got the joint."

Saint Dog: Yo, who's got the joint?

Tax Man: Looked under the couch, found some hairpins, an eraser, crumpled up piece of paper, rolling
papers, and a half pack of grits. No joint.
Saint Dog: Check behind your ear. It's probably behind your fuckin' ear.

Tax Man: It ain't there! I know because I checked. I'm still searchin' for the dank.

Saint Dog: You probably threw it out with your old pack of cigarettes. Look in the trash can

D Loc: I think I left it in the van. Lemme go check." D loc walks to his car with mag lite in hand, beeps the
alarm by accident, then hits the door button. He looks front and back, side to side, then gets distracted
by his Alpine 6 disc changer with readout display.

*BrrrING!* D-Loc's phone lights up. It's Dave, who gets paid to skate. D-loc picks up and answers

D Loc: I think it fell by your gate!

Dave: Dude... what? What are you on about this time Loc? What fell by my gate? I don’t even own a gate
—are you high? Of course you--- nevermind. I was just callin' to find out what the fuck happened to
Richter.

D Loc: What do you mean? We don't know where he is.

Dave: Yo, I was talkin' to my boy from the bay and he says he saw Richter disappear in an alley with
some dudes in a black BMW. Sketchy as fuck, they just peeled right out. He got the plate, it's DIC-954,
but he didn't call the cops cause he could have been in some shit on the down low.

D Loc: Oh fuck. (D Loc starts to run inside) "Thanks Dave, I gotta go!"

D Loc: Shit! Richter's in trouble! Hey yo X, find someone to run this plate! DIC-954
Daddy X: Got it. (X grabs his phone and makes the call.)

The Kings are all hyped up. X returns 30 seconds later

Daddy X: Alright, he got a hit. This car returns to a corporate building for Downing International Capital
holdings down on the east side. Let's go!

Bobby B: Wait, we need a plan. How the fuck are we supposed to find him?"

Tax Man: I got a connect at the building department that'll give us the lowdown. Quick, lets go lets go
lets go!!!

The Kings pile into their Outback and haul ass down to the headquarters.

KMK The Movie part 24: Easy access for easy penetration

The Kings hauled ass down the suburban streets, making their way onto the highway, cutting off cars left
and right in their outback. Shit was serious, Richter was in some deep shit!

*Brrrring!*

Tax Man: Hello? Shit, thanks man. Alright so.. what's the layout? Okay, that's weird. So it's an office
building but... nothing listed on.. okay, floor 22, got it. No stairs? How the fuck..? Alright, we'll figure
something out

D loc: Yo, what the fuck?

Tax Man: So here's the deal. The building permit shows that it's just a normal office building, but there's
no floorplans on the 22nd floor. We don't know where Richter is, but there's a good bet that he could be
there. We just need to find out what's there first...

Pakelika: Okay, so what's the plan?

Tax Man: We're gonna split into two groups. I'll go there with Lou Dog and Bobby B. We're gonna create
a diversion out front. The rest of you are gonna search for a second entrance. Big P, you’re driver, you
stay in the car and wait for the call.

Saint Dog: Alright, but... one last thing.

Tax Man: Yeah?

Saint Dog: Let's smoke these fuckin' blunts!

The Kings roll up in their Outback and park in the parking garage. The two groups split up, with Tax
Man's group heading into the main office and the rest looking around the outer perimeter.

Tax Man, Bobby B, and Lou Dog casually stroll up to the main desk

Receptionist: Good afternoon! How can I help you!

Tax Man: Hi ma'am, we're with the IRS and we're here for the audit.

Receptionist: What audit? This... this isn't on the schedule.

Tax Man: Ma'am, this is a very urgent matter. Can you contact someone and get us in?

Receptionist: Yes! Right away, hold on" *picks up phone* "Hi.. The IRS is here. Yes, I know they're not on
the sch-- okay, I'll send them up right away

Receptionist: Alright sir, here are some visitor's passes. Head up to the 25th floor, someone will meet
you there.

Lou Dog: Thank you very much. Before we go, where are the restrooms located?

Receptionist: Right over there

Tax man and his group walk over to the restrooms past the elevator and huddle into a stall together. Tax
Man calls up Daddy X.

Tax Man: Hey yo X, we got in.

Daddy X: What's the scoop?

Tax Man: We're pullin an audit on the 25th floor. I checked the elevator, no 22. I don't know how you
get in but you'll have to figure somethin' out.

Daddy X: Got it.

Meanwhile, Daddy X, D Loc, and Saint Dog have been stealthily sneaking around the parking garage.
They go down a hidden stairwell and see an armed guard standing watch in front of a door surrounded
by two dogs.
Daddy X: Shit, how the fuck are we gonna get past this?

D-Loc: Don't worry, I got a plan.. I'll distract the dogs, you guys wait for an opportunity and rush the
guard

D loc walks off around a corner. Suddenly, all the dogs go running away from the guard station! The
guard gets confused and starts running after the dogs, right up the stairwell. Saint Dog sees his
opportunity and throws a punch straight into the guard's chin, knocking him down in a daze. Daddy X
picks up his rifle, removes the clip and checks to make sure there's no rounds in the chamber.

All 3 run to the doorway.

Saint Dog: Loc, what the fuck was that shit?

D Loc: (pulls out a small metal dog whistle) I gots a phat whistle cause it comes in handy!

Daddy X: Aww shit! But... how are we gonna get past this eye scan?

Saint Dog: I know...

Saint Dog grabs the barely conscious guard by his hair and drags him over to the eye scanner. Saint Dog
slams the guard's head into the ground. His nose leaks blood as he passes out. Saint opens his eye and
puts it on the ocular scanner and the door silently opens.

Saint Dog: Easy access for easy penetration

Saint throws the guard back into his sentry station and the 3 go up the rickety old elevator.
Meanwhile, Johnny Richter is still strapped down to the chair. The door creaks open again and Petrovich
walks over to Johnny.

Richter: So science bitch, what the fuck do you really want from me?

Petrovich: Johnny, I want only what you've promised.. Nothing more, nothing less.

Richter: Promised?? The fuck is wrong with you, I didn't promise shit!

Petrovich: You did. You read the contract, didn't you?

Richter paused.

Petrovich: Here it is. I brought it with me. Your signature right on the bottom. Would you like me to read
it to you?

Richter: I didn't sign no motherfuckin' contract to have some lame cocksucker throw me in a trunk and
take my blood.

Petrovich: Actually Johnny, you did. Let me read it to you: 119. Any and all members of the Kottonmouth
Kings agree to forefeit any and all rare earth metals in any form and in any type of container, and any
means or method of accessing said rare earth metals, which they possess to Asscorp immediately in a
manner of Asscorp’s choosing. Asscorp may choose to secure aforementioned metals or means at any
time and in any manner, with or without warning.

Richter: I NEVER SIGNED THAT SHIT! Well you know what, I QUIT! I QUIT THE FUCKIN' KOTTONMOUTH
KINGS AND I'M NO LONGER A MEMBER SO YOU GOTTA LET ME GO NOW SHITBIRD
Petrovich: Addendum: In paragraph 119 of Contract, add the sentence “This provision shall stay in effect
for any member even if they choose to leave the Kottonmouth Kings.” to the end of the paragraph.

Richter: I NEVER SIGNED THAT SHIT EITHER

Petrovich: Mr. Richter, you know how you always say you have a golden lung?

“Yes?”, he replied, trembling. The sterile and too-bright lights reflected off the one-way mirror into
Johnny’s eyes. It stung.

“Well Johnny, that is an understatement. Yes, you do have a golden lung. Literally, your lung has gold in
it. But that’s not all” said Dr. Petrovich slowly, as he paced around the room, scalpel in hand. “Your lung
has rubidium, platinum, ytterbium, neptunium, and even unobtanium. Your lung isn’t just a golden lung,
it is a lung that can make gold.”

The doctor paused. Their eyes met briefly.

“Do you understand what this means Johnny?” said the doctor.

Johnny Paused. He had an idea, but thought to let Petrovich continue his monologue to buy himself
some time. He wriggled ever so subtly to check the strength of his restraints as though he hadn’t already
checked a thousand times before.

“Well I’ll fucking tell you. It means that you don’t just have a golden lung, you have a lung that can
make gold out of air and pot smoke. You didn’t smoke yourself retarded, you smoked yourself into the
fucking philosopher’s stone.” Petrovich paced around the room, oblivious to Johnny during his rant.
“Not just any philosopher’s stone, your resin-filled lungs can turn Acupulco Gold into real gold! You can
turn Sourdiesel into seaborgium! You can literally synthesize elements that have only been known to
exist in the laboratory for nanoseconds by smoking weed. And they are stable. You are a scientific
miracle Mr. Richter. A scientific miracle we can’t leave to chance.” Petrovich paused, staring off into the
one way mirror where his superiors sat and watched.
Johnny continued testing the restraints in an exercise in hope and futility. “How the fuck do you know?”
he quipped angrily. “Fucking nerd. Bitch ass nerd motherfucker.”

“How we know is none of your business. But now you are our business. You have two options Mr.
Richter: Smoke for us or we kill you and take your lungs by force.”

Petrovich paused.

“So what’s it gonna be Johnny?”

Johnny spat back “Fuck you, asshole! I’m not smoking shit for you motherfuckers!!”

What about ‘I’m Johnny Richter, never say that I’m done’. Sure, if you die here you might have lived true
to smoking weed ‘for the rest of your life’, but if you say that you’re done, you breach the contract.” Mr.
Petrovich held his smug expression. He beamed like a ray of sunshine, proud of his role in this
predicament.

Johnny paused, considering his options. The restraints were too tight to allow him to make a sudden
escape. Even if he did manage to lure Petrovich close enough to take his scalpel, stab him, and cut free
of the restraints in a quick moment of confusion, he still has to contend with whoever is behind the
mirror, whoever is in the rest of the building, and getting out of wherever the fuck he is. He knew he was
fucked.

“I’ll smoke, I’ll smoke. Fuck. Motherfuckers drive a hard ass bargain. Why you gotta be such a shit fuck?
Shit, smoke some weed you nerd ass motherfucker, calm the fuck down off this enslaving-people-for-
science trip bitch” He seethed. “Peace not greed”

“What’ll it be Johnny? Acupulco Gold? Northern Lights? Purple Kush? Pick your poison Richter, you’ll be
smoking it for the rest of your life!!!! You said it yourself, you’re in love with Mary Jane and gonna make
her your wife! Aaaaahahahaha!!” cackled Petrovich.
“White Shark, fuckhead. And I want the zong.”

Petrovich packed the slide full of a bone-dry sample of White Shark. He loaded the zong carefully with
three ice cubes. Clink, clink, clink. The dropping of the ice cubes echoed in the room. Petrovich carefully
measured out 200mL of reagent grade H 2O in a graduated cylinder and poured it down the zong neck.
He brought the zong and slide over to Richter. The shimmering crystals offered Johnny no comfort—
their absence of dankness was just a cold reminder of the next five, ten, twenty, or maybe even fifty
years he would be stuck smoking weed, all alone, little more than a scientific oddity tucked away for
none to see and only shareholders to appreciate.

Petrovich lit the lighter, holding the zong to Johnny’s mouth. “It’s time to smoke”

Johnny never anticipated the cruel irony of his lyrics. He began to inhale. Angrily, begrudgingly, seething
with rage. Nothing could describe the anger he felt as the smoke crept up the chamber. His eyes met
with Petrovich’s, blazing with the anger of a thousand suns, communicating one last time the only
sentiment he could muster.

KMK The Movie part 25: What’s your trip?

The elevator bell dinged. The doors opened up to reveal a sterile white lab environment with scientists
walking around doing science shit.

Daddy X: Fuck

The three Kings dipped back into the elevator quickly, hoping nobody saw them
D-Loc: Shit shit shit. What are we gonna do? There's scientists everywhere. We're gonna stick out like a
seed in fat sack.

Daddy X: Alright.. Shit... Okay, I got a plan.

Daddy X picked up a rock that was laying in the corner of the elevator and stuck it in between the doors.
This made the doors continually open and close.

Daddy X: Saint, when someone comes in here, take his lab coat.

Saint Dog nods.

Soon enough, a lone scientist in a labcoat walks by to investigate the door. The scientist notices the
Kings and gets startled, but Saint Dog is so fast that he's already pulling the nerd right out of the room
and straight into a blood choke inside the elevator. Within seconds, the science man passes out.

Daddy X: Here's the plan. I'm gonna put on this coat and come back with a few more. You guys stay
here. Then we're gonna investigate this place, but casual. We gotta find Richter.

Daddy X puts on the coat with the scientist's name badge and walks into the room, towards the lab coat
rack, trying not to attract attention to himself. He occasionally looks down at his clipboard, sneaking
glances at beakers and lab equipment while nodding so as not to arouse the suspicion of the other
scientists.

Soon enough he returns with two more coats. The Kings don them and investigate.

*MEANWHILE*

Petrovich: Ah! It is really true!

Richter: ...I told you, I fucked all your moms holes. You didn't have to take my blood to figure that shit
out.

Petrovich: Cute. Mr. Richter, you are quite a specimen. You see, we can give you different types of weed,
and in return, you'll give us different rare earth elements. Absolutely fascinating.

Richter: Yeah? You gonna whack off to that shit or what?

Petrovich: Mr. Richter, I'm getting tired of your conversation.

Richter: Well I'm getting tired of your BULLSHIT you SHIT FUCKER!

Petrovich: Mr. Richter, our time is drawing to a close. Soon you will be hooked up to the machine. But I
have one question for you.

Richter: ...yes, she screamed my name. I don't know why you'd want to know that you sick fuck.

Petrovich: What is it that motivates you? How can you possibly lead this lifestyle? What matters to you?
What keeps you going? What gets you up in the morning?

Richter:

Some people like to lick it.

Others crack a sack blaze it up and kick it.

Some like to think with a drink in their hand

It all depends on the ends you're willing to spend.

Do I lick or do I sip?

None of the above cause I just take rips

From a pipe, sometimes a bong

Cause it feels damn good when it lingers in my lungs

I'm a ganja man, I like a J in my hand

At all times burning so my high never lands

I'ma get you soooo high, that's what 'I'm sayin

When it comes to smokin, man I'm never playin

Just steady blazin, its amazin how I'm hazin

They never perpetrate and with the highs I'm elevating

And always skating when I get a board

When I bust an ollie my earphones

And then I pick it up, and then I smoke it up

And then I smoke it to the head until I'm lifted up

No I cant deny Chinese eyed until the day that I die

I take rips, so bitch what's your trip?

Petrovich pauses, unsure if Richter posed an actual or rhetorical question with his monologue.

Petrovich: I am sorry.. our time has come to a close. We must set up the machine.

A man wheels in a giant cart. It's like a dialysis machine, but it's attached to a giant fucking motorized
gravity bong.

Petrovich: The machine is very simple Johnny. We hook your mouth up to the mouthpiece and we have
one needle in each arm. We fill the bowl, the smoke gets pushed through your lungs, and we take your
blood. And then you smoke weed for the rest of your life.

Petrovich: Do you have any last words?

Richter: YEAH BITCH! Your mom loves this fuckin di---

Petrovich shoves the mouthpiece in Richter's mouth. He carefully rubs rubbing alcohol onto Johnny's left
arm and inserts the needle. He does the same with the right arm.

Petrovich reaches under the table in the corner to pull out a pound of white shark. He pours it into the
giant bowl on top of the machine and presses a red button. With a whirr, the giant gravity chamber
starts slowly pulling upwards, filling with smoke, absolutely decimating the pound, burning it down into
ashes. The motor relay clicks, the machine whirrs, and the smoke starts slowly emptying into Johnny’s
lungs. This is really the e---

*CRASH AUGH SSSHKHKHK TINK TINK TINK*

Petrovich crashed to the floor in a splatter of blood and glass, knocked out cold and bleeding badly from
the shards of the 4 foot bong he took to the dome straight through the one-way mirror. Daddy X, Saint
Dog, and D-loc crashed through the mirror, rolling for dramatic effect. “Kottonmouth Kings always rollin’
3 deep!” they exclaimed in unison

“Oh shit! Look what they did to Johnny!” D Loc yelled as the three kings ran over to Richter and start
figuring out how to get him out. Saint Dog started cutting away the restraints while D-loc gently
removed the IVs from Johnny’s arm. Saint Dog pulled off the mouthpiece, causing Richter to cough up a
fuckin’ storm behind the pot smoke pouring out from the machine.

“What the fuck is this…?” Daddy X said puzzled.

“(cough cough hack) gravity hit of a pound of white shark (cough wheeze)” said Richter

All three Kings start inhaling the smoke furiously, momentarily forgetting about Johnny or the fact that
they were in the middle of breaking him out.

“How the fuck did you guys get in here?” Johnny said as he freed himself from the last of the restraints
and stood up.
“Dude, we threw a bong through the window. You were there.” D-Loc continued, “Are you high?”

“Shut up idiot, you know what I mean.” Said Johnny. “How the fuck did you find me?”

“Tax Man came up with some Tax Man shit. Real slick. Made some ruckus about an audit and got us the
scoop on where you were. We fuckin’ snuck around then laid a nasty fart in the air vent to clear out the
dudes behind the mirror. We fuckin’ snuck in and then busted in with the bong.” Daddy X paused. “And
they weren’t watchin’ the back cause Tax Man came in through the front... but there’s no time to
explain! We gotta get the fuck out of here.”

(WEEE-OOOO WEEE-OOOO WEEE-OOOO WEEE-OOOO WEEE-OOOO WEEE-OOOO)

All four in unison: Oh SHIT!

KMK The Movie part 26: Escape

D-Loc: Oh no. We tripped some kind of fucking alarm?

Daddy X: Well, what the fuck do we do now?

Richter: Uhhh... shit shit shit shit

D-Loc: Okay, I've got it. Guys hide around the room out of sight from the mirror.
D Loc grabs two pounds of pot and flips the switch on the machine to HIGH

With a few clicks, whirrs, and whooshes, the entire room fills into a crazy heavy fishbowl! So thick you
can't even see your fingers in front of your face

The door slams open

Guard 1: What set the alarm off?

Guard 2: Shit, the machine! The machine's malfunctioning!

Guard 1: I hope it didn't kill the specimen..

Saint Dog grabs one of the guards and chokes him out silently

Guard 2: Hey.. we should turn this thing off. I can't see shit. Where's the----

Saint Dog grabs the other guard and silently chokes him out too

The Kings are no stranger to weed. They can take the heaviest fishbowl in the fuckin' world like a champ.
D-Loc and Daddy X put on the guard uniforms

Daddy X: Alright, here's the plan. Saint, D-Loc; Me and Richter are gonna drag you out, you gotta act the
part but don't blow up the fuckin' spot.
Daddy X and Richter pour sticky nugs all over Saint Dog and D-Loc so it looks like they broke in, then
start dragging them both out.

Random Scientist: Hey, who the fuck are those guys?

Daddy X starts coughing to disguise his voice

Daddy X: Uhh.. (cough cough) no idea, caught them (cough) breaking into (cough) the pot, gonna.. uh...
(cough) take 'em outside and.. (cough) call the police.

A few scientists approach

Another scientist: Hey, wait a minute... That's him!!! That's the specimen! They're breaking out! THOSE
ARE THE KOTTONMOUTH KINGS, GET 'EM!"

The scientists drop their clipboards and start rushing towards the Kings, pushing and shoving like little
bitches.

Saint Dog knocks down a row of three nerdy fuckin' scientists with one kick. D-loc picks up a bunch of
glassware and starts throwing it "NOW BACK!" he yells as the glass breaks on the walls, floors, and
scientists.

Johnny Richter takes the opportunity to load up on as many fat sacks of weed as he can get while Daddy
X calls the elevator. He frantically hits the call button while the scientists continue rushing.

The elevator opens and the Kings back in. Saint Dog is a fucking master and keeps knocking these nerds
down one after another. He picks up a shattered volumetric flask, holding the broken end up in the air as
an open invitation to any egghead stupid enough to fuck with the Kings.
The elevator dings as the four Kings descend.

*BUMP* *BUMP THUNK*

That's the sound of the elevator gettin' all fucked up!

D-Loc: Oh shit.. what now? What the fuck happened?

Saint Dog: I don't know man... Maybe...

Richter: Who the fuck cares man, we've gotta get out of here!

D-Loc: Hey yo X, lift me up. I'm gonna go check out the top of the elevator and make sure this shit isn't
all fucked up.

Daddy X boosts D-loc up towards the top.

D-Loc: Yeah, there's a corroded pipe up here that the elevator's caught up on.. fuuuuuuck..

Daddy X:: Shit.. What are we gonna do?

Richter: I know! I got some tinfoil. D-Loc, can you fix this shit?

D-Loc: Do a bear shit in the woods and wipe its ass with a fuzzy white rabbit?

Richter:....I don't know?

D-Loc: Exactly, now give me that fuckin’ foil!

D-Loc gets to work stuffing and shaping the foil... and the elevator starts to work! D-Loc jumps back into
the elevator and the Kings descend to the ground floor.

Daddy X: Dude, I think the guard and dogs are still there..

*ding*

Saint Dog performs a quick ocular patdown of the guard

D-Loc: RUUUUUUUUUN!

The four Kings make a mad dash, past the dogs and the sentry guard. They sprint up the stairs and
around the building to find Pakelika in the driver's seat of the outback revving the engine with the rest
of the Kings in the front seats.

Big P uses his lanky fuckin' arms to open the rear door of the outback. The Kings tuck and roll into the
car and close the door just in time for the guard dogs to smash into the rear glass, leaving slobber marks
as they hit the window

Richter: A Subaru?

Daddy X: I thought you knew…?

PAK! GO!
Pakelika hits the gas, peeling the fuck out and crashing through that orange and white thing in car
garages that everybody breaks in the movies.

Daddy X: Dude, what the fuck happened to you guys?

Tax Man: Faked an audit. You?

Daddy X: Busted in through a window, smoked a shitload of weed out of this gravity bong, and fucked up
a bunch of scientists. The elevator stalled out on our way down, it was fuckin' craaaazy.

Richter: Guess what else?

Tax Man: What now?

Richter: We’re all gettin’ lifted cause I just stole a pound!

Kings in unison: Yeeeeeeah!

Tax Man: But how'd you get out?

D-Loc: Kottonmouth Kings made a pipe out of foil!

KMK The Movie part 27: You’ve been served

D-loc: Hey yo X, pack that bong!

Daddy X: Maaan, I told you I wouldn't pack your bong seven times in a row. That shit's bad luck.

D-Loc: Hey yo Richter, pack that bong!

Richter: You pack it!

D-Loc: Hey yo Tax Man, pack that bong!

Tax Man: Fine! I'll pack the bong! But I'm packing your weed fucker!

*THUMP* *THUMP THUMP*

Pakelika: Who's that?

*THUMP* *THUMP THUMP*

D-Loc: Hey yo X, answer that door!

Daddy X: Hey yo D-Loc, you're a lazy fuckin' stoner you know that shit! *Daddy X walks up to answer the
door*

*THUMP* *THUMP THUMP*

Daddy X creaks open the door to see a pizza dude from some pizza joint holding like 8 boxes of pizza.
Pizza guy: How's it going?

Daddy X: We didn't order a pizza

Pizza guy: Well, someone did. We got an order for 420 high street for the Kottonmouth Kings.

Daddy X: Well, we're the Kottonmouth Kings, but we didn----

The pizza guy opens the top box, pulls out a stack of papers, and hands it to Daddy X.

Pizza guy: You've hereby been served with a lawsuit from Asscorp for breach of contract!

The "pizza guy" runs back to his car leaving the boxes behind on the Kings' doorstep, screeching his tires
as he peels the fuck out.

D-Loc: Hey yo X... what the fuck was that about?

Daddy X flips through the papers, blazed as fuck, eyes red as roses.

Daddy X: Shit man, I can't read this shit. Tax, you wanna try?

Daddy X tosses the papers over to Tax Man and he scans through them one by one.

Tax Man: So... we're being sued. Those fuckers at Asscorp are claiming that we breached our recording
contract by breaking Richter out of that fucking building. What the fuck is this shit?!??
Richter: Wait, what? What the fuck does Asscorp have to do with that shit?

(Montage of the Kings passing around joints and blunts and talking about the legal shit with Tax Man)

Lou Dog: So... what next?

Tax Man: Well, we have to respond, otherwise they win.

Bobby B: We got a lawyer for this shit, right?

...

...

...

Daddy X: We don't have any fucking money for a lawyer. We spent it all on weed!

Richter: Well.. can we sell some weed to get a lawyer?

Tax Man: No! We smoked all the weed! Now the company is cutting us off from our money until the
court case is over!

Kings together: Shiiiiiiiiiiit.

KMK The Movie part 28: The Trial

((gavel bangs))

Judge: All rise for case number zero zero zero sixty nine four-twenty

((Audience snickers))

Judge: As a reminder, there will be no outbursts in this courtroom! ((pause)) Case number zero zero
zero sixty nine four-twenty. Asscorp, represented by the law firm of Monopoly and Monopoly, vs. the
Kottonmouth Kings..

The facts of the case are as follows:

On April 20th 1998 at 5:30pm, the Kottonmouth Kings were approached by a representative of Asscorp in
order to secure a record deal. The terms of the record deal are too numerous to explain, but the major
disputes center around the enforcibility of the stipulation that any Kottonmouth Kings member forfeits
their right to and must immediately turn over all rare earth metals in his possession, in any form, at any
time, from that date on and forever thereafter.

Each member of the Kings and Asscorp signed and executed the contract at 6:30pm. There is no dispute
regarding these facts.

Unbeknownst to Mr. Richter at the time of signing, he has an extremely rare genetic mutation which
causes smoked marijuana to turn into rare earth metals in vivo, which may be extracted from his blood.
In order to enforce the contract, Asscorp took posession of Mr. Richter by luring him into an alleyway
with the promise of purchasing inexpensive stereo equipment, injecting him in the neck with a
tranquilizer, tying him up, putting him in the trunk, and driving him to a secret Asscorp laboratory. He
was then attached to a machine with a motorized gravity bong and dialysis setup in order to force Mr.
Richter to smoke a large quantity of marijuana, then extract said rare earth metals from his
bloodstream.
Asscorp has filed suit for breach of contract seeking summary judgment for $75,000 for lost revenues, 3
million in physical damages to property as a result of the Kings’ effort to recover Mr. Richter in breach of
contract, the immediate return of Mr. Richter, and reasonable attorney’s fees. There have been no
motions filed by the Kings in response.

The Kings, pro se, rebutted the allegations in this case. The draft was clear about the issues but lacked
legal citations, instead stating that this was “Goddamn fucking bullshit from corporate leech no-talent
Asscorp-clowns”.

Now, Kings, I have to advise you that you have the right to have an attorney of your choice represent
you in this matter. By filing pro se and representing yourself in court, I am legally obligated to view all of
your claims in the most legally beneficial light to your case. I am not your attorney and I cannot prove
your case for you, but I will help you to understand courtroom procedure if you ask.

Kings, do you have any motions in response to Asscorp’s request for summary judgment?

Richter: Yeah bitch, I got a motion right here. ((raises both middle fingers at Monopoly)) FUCK YOU
ASSCORP!!!

((Audience laughs raucuously))

Judge: ((bangs gavel repeatedly)) ORDER IN THE COURT! ORDER IN THE COURT! I said there shall be NO
OUTBURSTS! This is a warning Mr. Richter and if you continue to violate it I will have no choice but to
hold you in contempt of court.

Richter: ((cough coughh)) (quietly) alright you nerd

Judge: WHAT DID YOU SAY?

Richter: I said “Alright, I heard”

Judge: Oh. Okay. Well, if you don’t have any legal arguments motions to file, I have no choice but to find
in favor of Asscorp. ((Judge lifts gavel))

((Monopoly makes a taunting face with tongue out))

((Slow motion view of gavel about to bang))

Tax man: Wait your honor!

Judge: ...yes?

Tax man: I’ve passed the California bar. I’m a licensed attorney in the state of California. I’d like to
represent my family the Kings, with their permission.

((Audience gasps, all eyes on Tax man))

Daddy X: Why didn’t you tell us?

Tax man: Look I… I… I passed the bar to practice tax law. But then the Kings were so successful, and.. it..
it never came up. It just went on for so long that I figured “Why mention it now?”. But it’s the only
chance to save the Kings.

Kings and audience: Tax man! Tax man! Tax man!

Judge: ((bangs gavel again)) I SAID ORDER! Alright Tax Man. This court recognizes Tax Man as the
attorney representing the Kottonmounth Kings. And no more disruptions! … Tax Man, you may proceed.

Tax Man: This contract is invalid.

Judge: ...and why is it invalid?

Tax Man: Out of all the times in the world to seek out the Kottonmouth Kings, the number 1 smokers on
the motherfuckin’ planet, Asscorp chose to find us merely an hour an 10 minutes after 4:20 on April 20 th,
the only day of the year that every single pothead is flying high as a kite. They…

Monopoly: Objection!! Objection your honor!! Calls for speculation!

Judge: Overruled. Tax Man, continue.

Tax Man: Asscorp knew we were stoned out of our gourds, and we were! They knew we were looking
for a record deal and they got us to sign it when we were very very high! Persons who are incapacitated
or intoxicated cannot legally enter into a contract, therefore the contract is voidable at the Kings option!
Contract law 101 beeyotch!

((Audience cheers))

Judge: Very well then. Mr. Monopoly, what do you have to say about this?

Monopoly: Your honor, Asscorp had no knowledge or suspicion of the plaintiff’s alleged intoxication at
the time. Asscorp is a family company and does not endorse or condone the use of illegal drugs. The
plaintiff’s allegation is scurrilous at best and maliciously defamatory at worst.

((court goes silent))

Judge: Kings, your reply?

Lou Dog: Your honor, Kottonmouth Kings is all about staying high 24/7. Every single one of our songs is a
heartfelt pledge of allegiance to weed. We stay high all day, you can ask anybody. We were roasted,
toasted, and burnt to a crisp! It’s 4/20 y’all and we got love! We had the crip, and everyone knows when
you got the crip you don’t wanna part with it. You save it. And when would you save the crip for if it’s
not 4:20pm on April 20th?

Monopoly: Objection your honor, that’s not actually evidence

Judge: Objection sustained.

Tax Man: Your honor, that IS evidence! Per federal rule of evidence number 406, and I quote “Evidence
of a person’s habit or an organization’s routine practice may be admitted to prove that on a particular
occasion the person or organization acted in accordance with the habit or routine practice. The court
may admit this evidence regardless of whether it is corroborated or whether there was an eyewitness.“

((Audience claps))

Judge:...Tax Man, while I appreciate the argument, I am not familiar with the Kottonmouth Kings. I’d like
to hear from each of the Kings on this matter. If you are indeed “out smokin’ the motherfuckin’ planet”,
then it is in the interest of the court to settle this matter once and for all.

Monopoly: Your honor! Is there a pouch on your robe?

Judge:...a pouch?

Monopoly: Yes your honor, a pouch. Because this is a KANGAROO COURT!

Judge: ((bangs gavel repeatedly)) MR MONOPOLY! This is my courtroom and I decide what happens
here, do you understand?

Monopoly:…

Judge: I thought so. One more outburst like that and I’ll find YOU in contempt of court.

Monopoly: Sidebar your honor.

Judge: Very well. Tax Man and Mr. Monopoly, please approach the bench.

((hushed whispers around the courtroom))

Monopoly: While I disagree with your decision, if the Kings are allowed to address the court on this
matter then I have the right to cross-examination under the Sixth Amendment.

Tax Man: Bring it, your honor.

Judge (to the courtroom): Asscorp has requested cross-examination of each member of the Kings. Court
will reconvene in 15 minutes. ((bangs gavel))

Saint Dog: Tax Man, what’s this cross examination shit?

Tax Man: Asscorp has the right to ask you questions. I know we’re all down for the Kottonmouth King
Klique, but these guys are the best lawyers money can buy. They’re gonna twist your words. They’ve
probably already interviewed every ex girlfriend, every family member, and dug up every document
about every single one of us just to trip us up in cross examination.

Kings (in unison): Oh shit.

Tax Man: And that’s not all. They’ve been preparing for this case for weeks, if not months or years.
They’ve planned all their questions out in advance. They’re gonna assault your character and it won’t be
pretty.

Kings:...

Tax Man: As your attorney, I’d advise you to get ripped.

Daddy X: Roll it up then! Confrontation…

((Kings go out and fishbowl the shit out Richter’s bus. Short montage of them smoking tons of pot in the
bus))

KMK The Movie part 29: Cross examination of Saint Dog, Johnny Richter, and Lou Dog

((The Kings walk back into the court room ripped as fuck))

Judge: ((Bangs gavel)) Court is officially in session. Mr. Monopoly, who would you like to cross examine
first?

Monopoly: Saint Dog, your honor.

Judge: Very well. Saint Dog, please approach the bench. Please raise your right hand. Do you swear to
tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you god?

Saint Dog: Yes, your honor.

Judge: Very well. Proceed.

Monopoly: Mr. Dog. What does marijuana mean to you?

Saint Dog: Peace not greed, man! It’s all about love. You take a hit and feel that love. We’re all
connected man. It’s like.. we’re all in this world together. One species, one life, one love. I’m all about
that weed and I’ve been blazin’ harder than the sunset for as long as I can remember. It just makes you
care about the world an all the people in it.

Monopoly: Every single person? Even capitalists?

Tax man: Objection! Inflammatory.

Judge: Overruled. Saint Dog?

Saint Dog: Every single person.

Monopoly: And are you high all the time?

Saint dog: Fuck yeah man, 24/7!

Monopoly: Your honor, I’d like to introduce a police report into evidence. During a 1998 crime spree,
Mr. Dog was caught on tape robbing a liquor store in Orange County and made off with 2 cases of beer,
1 pint of booze, and a carton of cigarettes from a tiny bodega. Saint Dog then proceeded to a party
where he punched a man twice in the face, knocking him out, over a dispute involving a woman.

Tax Man: Objection your honor! Relevance!

Monopoly: This evidence clearly demonstrates that Saint Dog is lying about his character and therefore
his devotion to marijuana! And you haven’t even heard the worst of it...

Judge: Overruled. Tax Man, you’re skating on thin ice. Monopoly, proceed.

Monopoly: Saint Dog then proceeded to urinate in the unconscious man’s mouth while yelling about
player haters.

(audience gasps)

Saint Dog: Hey! That’s totally out of context!

Monopoly: So you admit you knocked a man out and urinated in his mouth?

Saint Dog: Look, he was a player hater and he was stalking Luanna and…

Monopoly: Answer the question!

Saint Dog: You fucking nerd! You don’t care what happened, you’re just tryin’ to make me look bad!
Judge: Mr. Dog, answer the question as asked or I will have no choice but find you in contempt of court

Saint Dog: Yes. He was stalking this chick and player hating hardcore, so I gave him a left jab, a right
hook. He fell to the ground unconscious. And I hate player haters so I pissed in his mouth.

Monopoly: And marijuana just makes you care about the world and all the people in it?

Saint Dog:….

Monopoly: No further questions, your honor.

((Fade to black, then back in))

Judge: Jonathan Richter, please approach the bench. Please raise your right hand. Do you swear to tell
the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you god?

Richter: Yes, your honor.

Judge: Very well. Mr. Monopoly, you may proceed with cross examination.

Monopoly: Please state your full name for the court

Richter: Jonathan Richter the Third

Monopoly: Very well then, Mr. Richter. What do you really do at home?
Tax Man: Objection your honor! Relevance.

Judge. Sustained.

Monopoly: How much do you really smoke?

Richter: A pound a day

Monopoly: How many bongs do you own?

Richter: I got a different bong for each day of the week

Monopoly: Do you really have as many bongs as you claim?

Tax Man: Objection! Asked and answered.

Monopoly: Your honor, this line of questioning is critical to establishing the witness’s character.

Judge: I’ll allow it.

Richter: Yes, I own seven bongs

Monopoly: Is your talk about drinking just a game?

Tax Man: Objection your honor! This is clearly immaterial.

Judge: Listen up. Mr. Monopoly, you’re skating on thin ice again. Sustained. Either go somewhere with
this line of questioning or I’ll have to end this cross-examination.

Monopoly: I apologize your honor. Mr. Richter, are you employed?

Richter: I got a job but I ain’t callin’ it work

Monopoly: Please elaborate

Richter: I’m in the Kottonmouth Kings Klique, bitch! I get paid to smoke herb!

Monopoly: Getting paid to smoke herb is not work. That’s absurd.

Tax Man: Objection your honor! This is both ambiguous and inflammatory. It is also not a question, and
for the record, Kottonmouth Kings are taking over this millennium.

Judge: Sustained. Monopoly, this is your last chance. I’m warning you!!!

Monopoly: You’re the greatest smoker in the world, Johnny Richter. How fast do you smoke marijuana?
How long does it take you to smoke an ounce?

Richter: Man, I smoke an ounce an hour! Nobody in the world can outsmoke Johnny Richter!
Kottonmouth Kings, outsmokin the motherfuckin’ planet!

(Audience laughs and cheers)

Monopoly: So have you been a liar and a fraud all your life or just today?

(Audience falls deathly silent)

Richter: What the fuck is your problem bitch?

Tax Man: Objection, inflammatory! SIDEBAR YOUR HONOR!

Judge: Monopoly! Approach the bench!!!

Tax Man: I move for a mistrial. While I respect the court and its proceedings, Mr. Monopoly is going too
far and has poisoned the jury too much with his comments during cross examination.

Monopoly: Your honor, the witness is lying through his teeth and I can prove it

Judge: I’d better see some evidence in the next few minutes or I’m granting the motion for a mistrial

Monopoly: You will, your honor.

Judge: Please continue.

Monopoly: How many hours do you sleep every night, Mr. Richter

Richter: I get 9 hours of sleep. Suck on that

Monopoly: And where do you keep all your bongs?

Richter: At my house, yo.

Monopoly: There are 16 ounces in a pound. If you sleep nine hours a night that leave 15 hours for the
rest of your day. If you were to smoke an ounce an hour, allegedly more than anybody else on the
planet, then even if you smoked every waking moment of your day you couldn’t even smoke a pound in
a day. Is that right, Mr. Richter?

Richter: Uhhhh…

Monopoly: I’d like to point to Exhibit 32B, a police report following an FBI raid on Mr. Richter’s house. A
complete inventory of the apartment identified only a bong, two pipes, and roughly half an ounce. If you
have a different bong for each day of the week, where exactly were they? And if you smoke as much as
you claim, where was all the pot? Where was all the pot, Mr. Richter?

D. Loc(whispering to Tax Man): Yo tax, do somethin’! Monopoly’s got too much momentum, Johnny’s
dying out there!

Tax Man (whispering back): I can’t object for no reason, the judge said I was skating on thin ice!

Richter: (pauses) We got pounds and pounds that the world don’t know about.

D. Loc (yelling): And if we sold ‘em, yo they’d all be in the clouds!

Judge: (bangs gavel) Bailiff, remove Mr. Loc until his cross-examination!

D. Loc: Noooooo!!!!! (getting dragged away by the bailiffs, kicking feet)

Monopoly: So Exhibit 32B is your arrest report Mr. Richter, correct?

Richter: That’s right. They didn’t find shit though. Feds can’t prove that we were movin’ a pound.

Monopoly: Would you mind pointing towards your name?

Richter: *points to the name*

Judge: Let the record show that the witness has pointed to the name... Timothy McNutt!!!

(Everybody in court gasps except for Richter and Monopoly)

Monopoly: So Timothy McNutt is your real name, is that correct?

Richter: (quietly) …. yes.

Monopoly: So you’ve perjured yourself. You lied about how much you really smoke. You lied, TWICE
about how many bongs you own. And you even lied to this court, about your NAME, just MINUTES AGO,
is that correct Mr. Richter? Or should I say, Mr. McNutt?

Richter: (no answer)

Tax Man: Objection, badgering the w---

Monopoly: I’ve made my point. I’m finished with the witness your honor.
Judge: Mr. McNutt. Even if I gave you the benefit of the doubt about an inaccurate estimation of your
marijuana smoking rate or believed your story about the number of bongs you own, there is simply no
excuse to lie about something as simple as your own name. And if you are going to lie about your name,
why would you add “the Third” onto the end of it? Explain yourself this minute or I’ll find you in
contempt!

Richter: (no answer)

Judge: Mr. McNutt, I have no choice but to find you in contempt of court. Bailiffs, please remove Mr.
McNutt from my courtroom at once.

Richter: Nooooooo!!!! (getting dragged away by the bailiffs, kicking feet)

((Fade to black))

Judge: Mr. Lou Dog, please approach the bench. Please raise your right hand. Do you swear to tell the
truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you god?

Lou Dog: Yes, your honor.

Judge: Very well. Mr. Monopoly, you may proceed with cross examination.

Monopoly: Lou Dog.. Lou Dog… What do we know about Lou Dog? Well for starters, Mr. Dog, do you
love marijuana?

Lou Dog: I’m gonna smoke weed for the rest of my life. I’m in love with mary jane! I’m gonna make her
my wife!
Monopoly: And naturally you’d consummate the marriage?

Lou Dog: Hell fuckin’ yeah man!

Monopoly: So you’re a dendrophiliac?

Tax Man: Objection your honor!!! This is a leading question, Mr. Monopoly is misquouting the witness,
and this inflammatory subject matter is clearly beyond the scope of this trial.

Judge: Mr. Monopoly did well with his last questioning line so I am inclined to allow it if you don’t have
any other objections

Tax Man: Your honor, I object on the grounds of incompetence. The witness obviously doesn’t know
what a dendrophiliac is. And frankly, your honor, I don’t think you know what it is either.

Judge: I know what a dendrophiliac is!!!

Tax Man: Prove it!

(Audience snickering)

Judge: No! But I agree with your objection, the witness is clearly pretending to know what a
dendrophiliac is to seem cool and smart and is therefore incompetent for the purpose of this inquiry.
Objection sustained. Mr. Monopoly, please continue

Monopoly: Do you ever feel… forgotten, Lou Dog?

Lou Dog: Hell no man! Kottonmouth King Klique would never forget about Lou Dog! I laid down the
foundation! With Kevin Zing!

Monopoly: Alright then. Well, tell me a bit more about what weed does to you.

Lou Dog: Sometimes I imagine I’m an ant. An ant that fucking loves pot. I live on a pot plant and move
around the plant smoking pot with my nice little ant bong all day. I furnish my pot plant with very nice
things, including a stereo system and scooters. Two stories. Three rooms. It’s my kryptominium. I can
smoke for free all day. As an ant my job, my original purpose for existing, the very fiber of my DNA
compels me to return back to the nest and tell the rest of the colony that I’ve found the bomb ass
chronic shit, enough to get us all blasted for generations. But… then I do nothing. I’m too high. Off in the
clouds man. And life is nice.

Good things don’t last forever. November comes around and I get moved away from the colony. I’m in
an unfamiliar place, all alone. Everything’s dry. I retreat to the only remaining room in what remains of
my formerly great kryptominium. My house gets encased in plastic. I can barely move. My spiracles can’t
get enough oxygen. I’m going to die. But the plastic is miraculously removed and my house is in a glass
sinkhole. I’m alive! But what’s going on?

I hear the flint spark. Suddenly it all makes sense. I’m in something else’s bong! I struggle to escape but I
can’t get out in time. The spark of the lighter ignites my roof. The heat is so intense and I can’t escape…
But what about the floor! I frantically scramble downwards, my haemolymph nearing a boil, aided by
the draw of air. I know that if I can just get through the slide before the cherry gets to the bottom I’m
home free! Each draw of air is hotter and hotter and it’s getting harder and harder to move… It’s like I’m
swimmin up, swimmin up, like I’m sitting down on the bottom of a pool tryin to swim up for air and I’m
like gasping. I can’t get it caught I cant bring in any air and it’s just crazy and I’m like swimming and
swimming and when I get up like get up for that final gasp and I get it.. oooof.. I’m making progress.. but
no! My legs are stuck! What’s going on? Oh fuck, I’m stuck in resin. Weed resin, son of a bitch!

The hot smoke pours over by body and through my spiracles. I am so. Fucking. High. Right. Now. But I’m
stuck. And I’m about to boil to death. All I want is to take a bath. Wash away my fears, wash away my
insecurities, wash away my enemies. Whatever entity is smoking right now I just hope they only smoke
greens and never down to the ashes.
At that moment it occurs to me… this is a prison of my own making. Here I am, untold lifetimes of ant
travel away from my colony, my genetically identical brethren, and my life. High as fuck, about to me
turned into a pile of ash and resin, my greatest legacy being one disgusting cough. None of this would
have happened if I had just shared the bounty. My family would be happy and high for generations and
I’d be free of this fiery prison! It was my greed, my sloth, my pride, and my gluttony that led me to this
path! My short ant life is flashing before my eyes! This is it, I can do nothing more!

My legs have singed off, there’s no going back now! The roof is caving in! It’s so hot!!!! My senses start
to fade, I feel nothing, and then… eigengrau. For eternity.

(courtroom is silent)

Monopoly: (silent, looking at Lou Dog)

Lou Dog (silent, looking back):

Judge: ...is that... all, Mr. Monopoly?

Monopoly: No further questions, your honor.

KMK The Movie part 30: Cross examination of Pakelika, Bobby B, Tax Man, and Daddy X

Judge: Pakelika, please approach the bench. Please raise your right hand. Do you swear to tell the truth,
the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you god?

(Pakelika hydro-mechanix’s over to the bench, looks at the judge, and liquids his right hand up, then
nods his head yes)
Judge: Very well. Mr. Monopoly, you may proceed with cross examination.

Monopoly: Pakelika, please describe how you first met the Kottonmouth Kings.

(Pakelika starts bustin’ out some crazy fuckin’ hydro mechanix, mimeographing a van and a pound of
weed)

Monopoly: Pakelika, answer the question!

(Pakelika mimeographs more furiously)

Monopoly: Sidebar your honor!

Judge: Very well, please approach the bench.

(Pakelika is liquiding around, pointing over to Monopoly then mimeographing jacking off, then back to
monopoly, then back to jacking off)

Monopoly: This witness is literally refusing to speak! I can’t cross-examine without any words

Tax Man: Pakelika is clearly answering the question, Mr. Monopoly is just too stupid to interpret its
meaning

Judge: Tax Man, would you be willing to interpret for Pakelika?

Tax Man: I would your honor, but…

Judge: But what?

Tax Man: It would invalidate his cross examination since us as the defendants are the only people able
to translate for him. I think I can convince him to talk. Would you allow us a short break?

Monopoly: That’s’ not fair! He’s gonna coach the witness

Judge: I think I’ll allow it. Tax Man, you have 3 minutes

Tax Man: Thank you, your honor. Pakelika, follow me into the conference room! NOW!!

(Pakelika does a crazy fast hydro mechanix move to the conference room, waving his arms like he’s
swimming through some water)

Tax Man: Pak, you gotta talk

Pakelika: Fuck that shit, that dude’s a little bitch

Tax Man: I know, I know he’s a little bitch. But let’s dab you on some fucking fire and you’ll rock that
shit.

Tax Man pulls out a piece of tinfoil and a lighter, then drops a fat dab of oil on it. Pakelika lanks over it
and takes all the oil in one hit, then zeroes it. Tax Man tosses the foil and they walk back to the bench.

Judge: Alright, let’s do this again. Pakelika, please raise your right hand. Do you swear to tell the truth,
the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you god?
Pakelika: Yes, your honor.

Judge: Go ahead monopoly

Monopoly: Pakelika, how did you meet the Kings?

Pakelika: They picked me up on the street corner. I was out robotting in front of the liquor store trying to
make my little change, buy my 40s and shit, slang my little pot and shit. These dudes roll up, roll up on
me and shit while I’m doing my, you know, my hydro-mechanix my little robotting and shit and they like,
buggin out. D-loc steps out of the van and shit and is just buggin on me hard core and I’m just kinda
peepin him out. Then you know Richter, Bobby B, X, all up in there, Lou Dog, they just lookkin at me like
“Whats up?”. D-loc he just comes out he just walks up on me goes “Hey man, we want you to be in the
band son…” And he breaks out a pound he goes “We ain’t got no dough, but we got a pound of weed for
you right now!” And there it is… and that’s how we did it.

Monopoly: ...and then what happened?

Pakelika: And then Richter fucked your mom and you got all salty like a little bitch!!!

(Audience laughs)

Monopoly: Your honor, permission to treat the witness as hostile?

Judge: Permission denied.

(Johnny Richter mimeographs fucking doggystyle and smacking an ass repeatedly)

Monopoly: Pakelika, what happened on the day you helped the Kings break into the Asscorp
compound?

Tax Man: Objection!! Narrative, irrelevant, and assumes facts not in evidence!

Judge: Sustained. Monopoly, you’re skating on thin ice here

Monopoly: No further questions your honor.

(Screen fades to black, then fades back in)

Judge: Dj Bobby B, please approach the bench. Please raise your right hand. Do you swear to tell the
truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you god?

Bobby B: Yes, your honor.

Judge: Very well. Mr. Monopoly, you may proceed with cross examination.

Monopoly: Dj B, tell us about your involvement with the Kottonmouth Kings.

Bobby B: I’m Dj Bobby B Kings of the Krops. And ain’t nobody slicker than B-dubb on the mixer!

Monopoly: How long have you been down with the Kottonmouth Krew?

Bobby B: I’ve been down since day one motherfucker

Monopoly: And you’re a man of good character, are you not?

Tax Man: Objection! Argumentative

Judge: Overruled! Dj B, answer the question

Bobby B: I’m a stand up motherfucker.

Monopoly: So what were you doing with a stolen dirtbike?

Tax Man: Objection!!

Judge: I’d like to see where he’s going with this. Monopoly, please continue.

Monopoly: I’d like to introduce this police report from a mounted officer showing that Bobby B received
a ticket on a vehicle later reported to the California Registry of Motor Vehicles as stolen!!!

(audience gasps!)

Tax Man: Objection your honor! This is clearly beyond scope!

Judge: Overruled. Continue.

Tax Man: Fuckin’ bullshit!!

Bobby B: You mean the fuckin’ midget cop on a pony? Yeah, that bitch ticketed me but I ain’t steal that
shit.

Monopoly: I never said that YOU stole it… would you mind telling me who DID steal it?

Bobby B: That shit wasn’t stolen, I bought it!!!

Monopoly: I’d like to introduce this audio recording of a phone conversation intercepted by the FBI
between Bobby B Saint Dog into evidence which clearly shows the witness is lying through his teeth!

(courtroom mutters)

(Monopoly picks up a tape recorder and presses play, putting it next to the microphone)

“Saint Dog: What’s crackin’ D-J-B!!!

Bobby B: What up fool. You know, just hangin out’ fuckin’ spinnin my turntables.. yeeeah.. drinkin a
fucking Heineken.

Saint Dog: Check this shit. I’m rollin with Daddy X, leapin’ around town like some frogs you know what I
mean?

Bobby B: What you get?

Saint Dog: A couple hogs from the farm, a box full of steaks, dirt bikes and rakes

Bobby B: A fuckin… what the fuck you want a trunk full of hogs and rakes for?!??!
Saint Dog: Whatever we could get we was gonna take

Bobby B: But… rakes??? Hogs??

Saint Dog: You’ll see (click)”

Monopoly: So, you don’t know where the dirtbike came from, is that right?

Bobby B: I do not recall that conversation and I doubt its authenticity

Monopoly: What did he do with the rakes and the hogs?

Bobby B: ….

Monopoly: WHAT DID HE DO WITH THE RAKES AND THE HOGS!!?!??

Bobby B: Could you please explain to me what a rake is?

Monopoly: Like.. a rake! You know, like.. raking the leaves? Do you actually not know what a rake is?

Bobby B: I want to answer your question to the best of my ability, could you please explain to me what a
rake is?

Monopoly: It’s a FUCKING RAKE YOU IDIOT! YOU KNOW WHAT A RAKE IS NOW FOR FUCKS SAKE WHAT
DID HE DO WITH ALL THE RAKES AND THE HOGS??!?
Tax Man: Objection your honor! Relevancy, asked and answered, AND badgering the witness

Judge: Sustained. Mr. Monopoly, will you let the rakes and the hogs go?

Monopoly: (Monopoly huffs and tosses his stack of papers on the floor) No further questions your
honor.

(Fade to black, then fade back in)

Judge: Tax Man, please approach the bench. Please raise your right hand. Do you swear to tell the truth,
the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you god?

Tax Man: Yes, your honor.

Judge: Very well. Mr. Monopoly, you may proceed with cross examination.

Monopoly: Tax Man, Tax Man, Tax Man. Where do we begin? First of all, what are you all about Tax
Man?

Tax Man: That’s a difficult question to answer

Monopoly: What is it that’s important to you? Why are you in the Kottonmouth Kings?

Tax Man: Objection your honor, compound question

Judge: Sustained. Mr. Monopoly

Monopoly: Why are you in the Kottonmouth Kings?

Tax Man: Because the Kings are my brothers!

Monopoly: Can you describe the circumstances of your first meeting with the Kings?

Tax Man: I had been homeless for years. At that time I was living in a pallet crate with a cardboard box
as the roof. The Kings knew me and they rolled up in that bus, said “Hey man, you wanna join us? We
need some crazy motherfucker like you on stage”. I hopped right into that van and never looked back
cause I’m down to RIDE!

Monopoly: Are the Kottonmouth Kings engaged in any illegal activity?

Tax Man: Not that I know of

Monopoly: Not that you know of?

Tax Man: Yes, that is correct. At this time I have no knowledge that the Kottonmouth Kings is engaged in
any illegal activity.

Monopoly: What do you mean by the word “is”? Do you mean 'is' as in “never has been” or ‘is”
as is “is happening right now”?

Tax Man: Objection your honor! Relevance, and Monopoly is being a dickhead
Judge: I agree, sustained.

Monopoly: Have you ever faked an audit, Tax Man?

Tax Man: What is an audit?

Monopoly: Tax Man, you’re an attorney that specializes in tax law and you’re trying to act like you don’t
know what an audit is?

Tax Man: There are many types of audits; construction, compliance, investigative, information systems,
tax audit, operational audit…

Monopoly: Have you faked ANY of these audits at any point in your life?

Tax Man: No

Monopoly: I’d like to introduce into evidence an internal report stating that someone who appeared to
be Tax Man from the Kottonmouth Kings pretended to be conduct an audit at Asscorp’s California office.

Tax Man: Sidebar your honor

Judge: What’s the issue, Tax Man?

Tax Man: An internal report by the plaintiff’s company which alleges a crime to have been committed by
the defendant cannot plausibly be considered reliable evidence in this matter, especially when the
defendants have not had any time to review it.
Judge: I agree. Monopoly, cease with this line of questioning

Monopoly: No further questions your honor

(Screen fades to black, then back in)

Judge: Daddy X, please approach the bench. Please raise your right hand. Do you swear to tell the truth,
the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you god?

Daddy X: Yes, your honor.

Judge: Very well. Mr. Monopoly, you may proceed with cross examination.

Monopoly: Daddy X, Please state your legal name for the court

Daddy X: Brad Xavier

Monopoly: And what exactly do you do, Mr. Xavier?

Daddy X: I’m the revolutionary behind the Kottonmouth Kings! I’m an entrepreneur, social activist, and
punk rocker! A thumb with a pointy nail in the eyeballs of any square that wants to stomp on the Krown.

Monopoly: And what is Kottonmouth Kings all about?

Daddy X: Kottonmouth Kings is all about love. It’s all about fine fillies in my ‘62 caddy. It’s about peace,
NOT greed! Anarchy through capitalism! All you normal people living suburban lives better get down on
your knees and open your fucking mouths, because Daddy X and the Kottonmouth Kings are gonna run
up in your neighborhood and ejaculate everywhere just to teach you motherfuckers a lesson. And you
know there’s infection so wear some protection!

Monopoly: Is that so?

Tax Man: Objection your honor, asked and answered

Judge: Overruled. Please answer the question, Mr. Xavier

Daddy X: The Kings are an independent music force! The Kings are seasoned
vets ready to storm troop the music industry like Navy Seal Team 6 raiding
Osama Bin Laden’s compound! The Kings are here to take no prisoners and
make no apologies. The Kings have never stopped pounding and smashing.
What other group of our generation has done more collectively and as a
unit? What other group releases as much prolific solo and group material? It
is high time to recognize that the Kottonmouth Kings are not some novelty
weed act - but one of the most intensely original and profound groups of our
generation. Don't take our word for it - go to a show and you will see
thousands of people lose their fucking minds every time the Kings hit the
stage.

Monopoly: And what is your educational history?

Daddy X: I learned everything I know from the streets, bitch!

Monopoly: ...and Harvard Business School.

(audience and KMK gasp audibly and start whispering)

Tax Man: Objection your honor! This is irrelevant and also not a question!

Judge: (bangs gavel repeatedly) Order in the court! Order in the court! Objection overruled Tax Man.
Mr. Monopoly, continue

Monopoly: Mr. Xavier, is it true that you graduated from Harvard Business School?

Daddy X: Yes. I graduated in 1994, salutatorian.

Monopoly: And none of the Kings ever found out, did they?

Daddy X: …

Monopoly: Daddy X?

Daddy X: Correct. Who’d you expect?

Monopoly: ….

Daddy X: ...

Monopoly: I notice that you haven’t mentioned anything about marijuana, Mr. Xavier

Tax Man: Objection! Not a question

Judge: Sustained. Mr. Monopoly, ask an actual question

Monopoly: Mr. Xavier, have you ever smoked weed?

Judge: Of course! I love weed!

Monopoly: Then when was the last time you were high?

Daddy X:…. 1992

(the audience gasps. Everybody falls deadly silent)

Richter: What the fuck???!?!

Monopoly: Why did you stop smoking pot, Mr. Xavier?

Daddy X: It just… I don’t know, it’s sort of a lame drug.

(The audience starts going crazy, angrily yelling!!!)

Judge: (bangs gavel) ORDER IN THE COURT!!!! ORDER IN THE COURT!!!!

Monopoly: How did you manage to fool the Kings for so many years into believing that you still smoked
weed?

Daddy X: I smoked… but I didn’t inhale

(court murmurs)

Judge: ORDER IN THE COURT! (bangs gavel)

Monopoly: But… why would you do that?

Daddy X: Look, I love the Kings

Monopoly: Why would you do that? What the hell is wrong with you?

Daddy X: I love the Kings.. but… look. Early on in my MBA I found an untapped niche: Suburban white
kids that smoke too much weed. They are a perfect market. Their parents give them extra money, and
even with all the weed they smoke, they still have money left over to burn. So I got to asking, “How can I
turn a profit?” I figured hey, I’ll start a band that’s all about a self-referential weed reality and sell
clothing and shit, that’s easy money. So I started hangin’ around shows, met these dudes, and that was
all she wrote.

Monopoly: So it was all about the money?

Daddy X: No! It’s all about the weed!

Monopoly: And the money?

Daddy X: ...and the money.

Monopoly: No further questions, your honor.

KMK The Movie part 31: Final Arguments

Judge: Where were we before? Oh, right. As Tax Man was saying, federal rule of evidence number 406
states “Evidence of a person’s habit or an organization’s routine practice may be admitted to prove that
on a particular occasion the person or organization acted in accordance with the habit or routine
practice. The court may admit this evidence regardless of whether it is corroborated or whether there
was an eyewitness.“. Mr. Monopoly, do you have any rebuttal to this argument?

Monopoly: Your honor, even if what Tax Man says is true, Asscorp is still on the correct side of the law.
Simply put, the kings are high all the time. The legal standard for intoxication is “ A state in which a
person's normal capacity to act or reason is inhibited by alcohol or drugs. Generally,
an intoxicated person is incapable of acting as an ordinary prudent and cautious person would act under
similar conditions.“ Being high IS the Kings’ normal state. High or not, their normal capacity for reason
was not inhibited at the time. Even if they were roasted out of their minds. And furthermore your honor,
if this court were to accept the notion that imbibing any amount of marijuana creates an inability to sign
any contract, then all persons who are high all the time can skirt their contractual obligations. This runs
counter to public policy. And furthermore yet again, there is no PROOF they were high at the time!

Tax man: Oh really? We would like to submit this audio recording into evidence! ((lifts up audio
recording for all to see))

((audience gasps))

Judge: I’ll allow it! Bailiff, play the recording

(Recording clicks as it starts)

We just, you know, just keepin' it funky for yall.

Little, hand clap, with the clap.

Yo we sit in a cloud, sittin' in my green room, releasin' my herbs

My green room how we toke

* THUNK * * THUNK THUNK *

Lou Dog: Man, we’re recording what the fuck you wantin’ punk?

* THUNK * * THUNK THUNK *

D loc: X,open up the door and check out what the fuck is up!

Daddy X opens the door to see some square ass motherfucker hangin’ around with a briefcase.

Daddy X:…. whatchu want, grizzly adams?

Dude: Are you the Kottonmouth Kings?

Richter: Better ask your mom and see if she remembers us from last night!

* Kings laugh! *

Dude: I’m Daniel Winston and I represent the largest record label in North America. Today, I’m going to
make you all very rich
Daddy X: ….how are you gonna do that?

Winston:…. I’m going to sign you to our record label! May I come inside?

Richter: Man, you’re more courteous than I was to your mom last night. I just came right in!

Daddy X: We’re in the middle of a session though…

Richter: Let him in! Come on man…

Winston: We know talent when we see it, and you guys are rising stars in a growing demographic. We’re
prepared to offer you a very generous deal if you want to sign with Asscorp

Richter: ASSCORP!

* Kings lose it laughing *

D Loc: Fuckin.. this bitch wants to sign us with Asscorp???

Lou Dog: Asscorp? Like… * farts *

(Saint Dog farts)

Daddy X: Come on guys.. Asscorp is big business. They run all the major record labels.

Tax Man: Yo man, if we’re gonna sign with Asscorp, let’s give them a song! Bobby B, hit that shit!
(“Bobby B pulls up a fart sound and starts playing it in different notes and keys on the synthesizer to the
tune of Life Rolls On “)

D Loc: Another fart gone… *fart fart*

Another fart gone… *fart fart*

Sittin in my livin’ room fartin’ on some noobs … (pauses, starts cracking up)

( Kings laughing again, coughing up blunt smoke)

Winston: If I can just get you to read this contract, you could bring in half a million dollars in royalties by
next year. All you’ll need to do is sign on the dotted line.

Richter: Half a million dollars!?!? So I could buy your mom for a million nights then?

D Loc: Contract schmontract

Winston: Well, if you’d just--

Lou Dog: Blontract quonbract lombract awnbract

Richter: momract momtract I banged your momtract

Winston: Okay then, I’m going to get some lunch. If this contract isn’t signed by the
time I come back, I’m taking the papers with me and you’ll never see this chance
again.

(door slams)

Daddy X: Guys…. Lets do it!

Tax Man: Now hold on, I’m too fuckin’ high for this contract shit. I can’t even read this
bullshit I’m so blazed

D Loc: Yeah man, what if they want our fuckin’ souls or somethin?

Daddy X: They don’t want our souls, they just want to make some money. And we need
fuckin’ money.

Bobby B: I’m in man, KMK for lyfe

Lou Dog: But we’re the Kottonmouth Kings, we can do it on our own! It might take
longer and cost more money, but we’re fuckin’ killin’ it. Richter, whatchu think?

Richter: Look at my shit.

The Kings look at Richter quizzically.

Richter: Look at my shit!

D Loc: I don’t wanna see your shit you sick bastar--

Richter: This is the fuckin’ American dream. This is my fuckin’ dream y’all!
All this shit! Look at my shit!

I got.. I got BONGS! Every fuckin’ color

I got designer V dubs

I got Acapulco Gold. Motherfuckin Kings Blend!

I got Half Baked. On repeat. HALF BAKED ON REPEAT! Constant, y’all!

I got money smell. I got weed smell. Mix it up with that In-n-out. Smell nice? I smell
nice!

Daddy X: We get the po--

Richter: Look at my shit! Look at my shit! I got fuckin’ Kool Aid, shurikens, I got sais, I
got---

Tax Man: Alright, let’s take a vote. All Kings for say YEA! All against say NAY!

Tax Man: The YEAs have it!!!!!!

(Cheering and celebrating)

(Door opens)

Winston: Well fellas, I hope you brought some waders cause you’re gonna be knee
deep in pussy!!!
“

(Recording clicks to a stop)

Judge: After listening to this recording, I find it highly probable that the Kings were extremely high
because it was 4/20.

Monopoly: That’s not possible

Judge: Excuse me?

Monopoly: Daddy X stated that he has not been high since 1992. As you can tell on the recording, he
doesn’t seem to be high at all. At least one of the Kings was sober enough to understand the meaning of
the contract, therefore no matter how high the rest of the Kings were, the Kings are still bound to their
contractual obligations!

Judge: Tax Man, do you have anything to say on this matter?

(Tax Man stares daggers at Daddy X)

Judge: Because Daddy X was not in fact high, I have no choice but to rule in favor of Asscorp

(Judge makes a move to bang the gavel in slow motion)

KMK The Movie part 32: Bringing down the gavel

(Slow motion of gavel about to bang)

Tax Man: WAIT!

(Up close view of the gavel stopping a fraction of an inch before hitting)

Tax Man: Federal law makes any contract relating to marijuana illegal since Asscorp is headquartered in
another state. Therefore the contract is illegal and automatically invalidated!!

(AUDIENCE GOES FUCKING WILD!!!!! HOOooooooOOOOLYYYY SHIT!

Judge: Monopoly, do you have any response to this?

Monopoly: Yes your honor. The mere presence of an illegal provision in a contract does not make the
entire contract invalid. Any part of the contract remaining is still valid, and furthermore, the question of
the legality of marijuana at the federal level is not entirely solved.

Tax Man: The matter IS solved at the federal level, because weed is a Schedule 1 drug! And the contract
has no severability and waiver provisions, so the entire contract IS invalidated by the illegality of that
one term! In addition, the whole contract was conceived for an illegal purpose by Asscorp and thus the
contract is completely and wholly invalid!

(Judge flips through contract)

Judge: Mr. Monopoly, Tax Man, do you have any further arguments on this matter?

Monopoly: None, your honor

Tax Man: Nothing further your honor

Judge: Well, I am prepared to deliver my verdict. In case number zero zero zero sixty nine four-twenty, I
find that...

KMK The Movie part 33: Verdict and press conference

Judge: … THE KOTTONMOUTH KINGS WIN!!!

(Judge bangs gavel)

The courtroom erupts into raucuous applause! Everybody is standing, cheering, clapping, and going
fucking crazy! The Kings lift up Tax Man in the air. “TAX MAN! TAX MAN! TAX MAN!” they all chant in
unison as Tax Man starts crowd surfing throughout the packed court room! Everybody is throwing hats,
lighting fuckin’ joints, going crazy like no show they’ve ever rocked before.

Monopoly looks on, disappointed and defeated.

(Judge bangs gavel)

Judge: ORDER IN THE COURT! ORDER IN THE COURT!

But nobody could hear him over the celebration.

The celebration slowly migrates out of the court to meet a giant crowd awaiting the Kings on the front
steps of the court. It’s fucking packed with news media with cameras and microphones. The whole
crowd is chanting “KOTTONMOUTH KINGS! KOTTONMOUTH KINGS!” Reporters start hounding the Kings
one after another with stupid fucking questions. Tax Man stops them and steps to the front
Tax Man: We will be holding an official press conference in just a minute, please hold your questions
until that time. Thank you!

Tax Man was prepared. He went to Richter’s bus and grabbed a podium emblazoned with the
Kottonmouth Kings logo

The Kings set up the podium, surrounded by TV cameras and microphones

(Imgur link to KMK in front of a podium)

Some reporter: This is a historic victory! Would you smoke a ceremonial bowl with me?

Richter: I ain’t got hours in my day to smoke with people like you, wastin’ my minutes like a
cell phone that you merely abuse

Some reporter: Why would you choose to refer to yourselves as the Kottonmouth King Klique when it
abbreviates to K.K.K?

Tax Man: Next question

Some reporter: I heard that you re-use the same bong water over and over again and never clean out
your bong. Is that true?

Daddy X: You'll never find my bong water dirty like the sewer. Next!
Some reporter: I am a big fan of capitalism. What do you think about capitalism?

Tax Man: Are you blind to the facts? You think that this system, 
That this society, sees any other color other than green? 
Well it's all slave-driven. The illusion of ownership in America 
Property is theft, that's how we livin' 

Some reporter: What did you do to prepare for this trial, Saint Dog?

Saint Dog: Hit the bong, wrote a song, took a piss and farted

Some reporter: I understand that there is a neighborhood watch in your area. Can you tell us more
about them and your relationship with them?

Lou Dog: The neighborhood watch is after us. The neighborhood watch don't like Richter's
bus. The neighborhood watch is what they say, but when I see them walkin towards me, I
light another...

Some reporter: D-Loc, I would like to get your input on this matter.

D-Loc: A bunch of overweight housewives that wanna be cops.. Cook and clean, the life of
slave, Take Kottonmouth's advice and call Jenny Craig. It's not in my control, when we were
in school, Wanna see us livin life like the golden rule. Peepin out the window, folks always
looking, Minding my business when they should be cooking. Bored is how their life must be,
Wait till there's a real crime on our street

Some reporter: Johnny Richter. I understand that you enjoy basketball. Can you list off the items that
you own and like?

Johnny Richter: Yo man I got some sick ass shit, I got all kinds of bongs. I got fuckin, I got
paramaxes, I got graffix. I got all the dope shit. I got superbowls, I got fuckin skunk weed, I
got skillz, listen. I'll get me on the court, you know what I'm saying? I got skillz. Look I got
crossovers, I got doms, I got lobs, I got ups. I got all kinds of skillz, I got homeboys, I got
weed, I get high. I'm fuckin… I got dope VW car with fat ass fuckin whomper,
motherfucker...

Some reporter: Pakelika, you are often considered the quiet one. Tell us about the other Kings!

Pakelika: Yo my boy D-Loc got ears like a monkey, My boy Saint Dog is a hip-hop drunkie, DJ
Bobby B gots the tracks that are funky,

Some reporter: Pakelika, what does the weed you grow smell like?

Pakelika: If you really must know I grow my green bud skunky

Some reporter: What style of music is the Kottonmouth Kings?

Saint Dog: Suburban ebonics coming out my mouth. Take a lesson bitch boy that's
Kottonmouth. But your square nerdy asses won't understand.

Some reporter: I have a question for Johnny Richter. This will be a multiple part question, so please stick
with me. Mr. Richter, would you describe yourself as a p erpetrator?

Richter: Naw, educator

Some reporter: Playa hata?

Richter: More like a generator

Some reporter: Hesitater?

Richter: Naw, demonstrator

Reporter: Masturbator?

Richter: Naw, masticator on you old lady's twat. The shit was hot, the pussy got got, I hit
the G-spot. My other buddy ate it, his tongue got rot. But he knew what he was in for when
the booze got bought. Now that's not a lot but that's food for thought. You gotta bur up if
she's hot to trot.

Some reporter: I don’t like your tone Mr. Richter, I find that very offensive

Richter: Like it or not you need to smoke more pot. Next question?

Some reporter: Daddy X, social revolutionary and activist, could you please give us your opinion on the
LGBTQ movement in this country?

Daddy X: Lesbos, the best lay in town. Lesbos, they like to play around. Lesbos, they're really
freaky chicks. The only problem is they don't like to play with dicks.

Some reporter: Lou Dog, you’re known for being very hard to find. Where can people find you?

Lou Dog: you’ll find me rollin my truck just as high as fuck, you’ll find me hittin my bub on
my to the pub, you’ll find me in mid arc on the way to my moms, cause if i dont get high i
won’t be stayin to long

Some reporter: Johnny Richter, you’re a fucking pot snob.

Richter: you can go ahead and label me a pot snob but i’ll never give you up to any couple
bowls home. if anything im livin high on it, Johnny Richter smokin steady only tokin on the
chronic yeah!

Some reporter: When I was a kid I was abducted by a stranger that wanted me to help him find his
puppies. I escaped, only to find that my parents had gone bankrupt trying to find me and that my entire
family was destroyed over this ordeal. Do you have anything to say about my inspirational story?

Bobby B: shoulda listened, ya shoulda listened. i got your picture in the mail and at the top
it says "MISSING"

Some reporter: How would life be if the world smoked weed?

Tax Man: Guaranteed there'd be peace not greed. Next question?

Some reporter: What do you think about the U.S. Government and the war on drugs?

Johnny Richter: The government keeps tight control over the population, While the schools
teach the kids restricted education, Murder, Rape, Sex, Underage prostitution, They got the
war on pot, they got the wrong solution,

Some reporter: We dug up a picture recently which shows that the Kings won the lottery several years
ago. Many lottery winners express regret that they ever won in the first place after seeing what it does
to their families, their relationships, and their lives. What is your feeling on this matter now that you’ve
had personal experience as lottery winners?

D Loc: The Lottery, you know It's all the Same. Ain't shit Changed just a Big Game. They
fuckin' with our brain, it's the Government Strain. Taxes stealin' but they got you Trained
Some Reporter: Will you sign this petition to legalize weed?

Kings: Yes!

Some reporter: Tax Man, it’s your mom! I haven’t seen you since you were so little. I was watching the
trial the whole time with your dad! We’re back together and so proud of you!!!

Tax Man: Jesus, what the hell is wrong with you? Next question

Some reporter: Will you continue to be the Kottonmouth Kings forever?

D-Loc: Hell yeah!

Some reporter: Your central purpose for existing is to legalize weed. If weed becomes legalized and
you’re in your 40s, are you going to keep making music and trying to sell merchandise to the same
demographic of suburban stoner, or are you going to pretend like you still have a band and just cancel
shows at the last minute all the time?

Daddy X: (throwing his voice) Hee Haw!

Some reporter: Did you just bray like a don--

Daddy X: I think I heard a donkey. Next question!

Some reporter: Hey, I really wanna smoke with you. Do you have a joint so we could smoke it?
Daddy X: Yo, you gots the joint? 

Pakelika: Nah, I got the joint 

D-Loc: Yo, who's got the joint? 

Richter: We all got the joint. We all on point, we all on point 

Tax Man: Yo, you gots the Joint? 

Bobby B: Nah, I got the joint 

Some reporter: Okay, Bobby B. Can we smoke that joint now?

Bobby B: I got the joint but you ain't gonna smoke it 

Tax Man: Time is running out, we will only take one more question. (Points at reporter) Yes?

Some reporter: What are the Kottonmouth Kings all about and how would someone be able to
distinguish a member of the Kottonmouth Kings from any other person in the world?

Daddy X: We's The People Stress Originality, They's the people got you down on your
knees,  We's The People Tryin' to Legalize Weed, While you digest the bullshit they forcibly
feed.
We's The People Drawing Lines in the Sand, A chemical hate poison greed drippin'
plant, They control they tax they possess this land, One nation indivisible united we stand.
We The People!

Tax Man: Okay, that’s all guys. I’m gonna leave y’all with this last nugget of wisdom: Roll a man a
joint and he'll smoke for a night, Teach him how to roll and he'll smoke for life. Have a good
n--
(BANG CRASH SHAKE SHAKE SHAKE EARTH OPENS UP SMASH RUMBLE RUMBLE CRASH
CRASH)

KMK The Movie part 34: Welcome to the Suburbs

(Shot of everybody falling down as the reporters start running and screaming)

D-Loc: Hey yo X…. WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!?!?

Daddy X: I think it was an earthquake

Richter: It felt like a 9.4 on the Richter scale. Holy shit!!!

(Screams and breaking glass off in the distance)

Saint Dog: It sounds like looting and rioting.

(Klaxon blares)

Voice over Klaxon: DEAR KOTTONMOUTH KINGS! YOU MAY HAVE WON THE BATTLE, BUT YOU WILL
LOSE THE WAR! COME SAVE YOUR PRECIOUS NEIGHBORHOOD…. IF YOU DARE!!!!!

Tax Man: Quick, let’s do something!

The Kings grab the podium and jump into Richter’s bus. They ride through a mile of tattered and broken
streets to find a city in absolute chaos.. But the center of the chaos seems to be a paramilitary group
clad in black carrying nightsticks causing havoc.

Tax Man: Holy fuck.. what is this shit man?

Bobby B: I don’t know man.. We gotta stop it.

Daddy X: But how?

Richter starts passing around blunts and bongs hastily packed with single nuggets ripped off of buds,
stems and all. The Kings light up and smoke a fuckin’ half ounce real quick in the bus to the sounds of
screams and breaking glass outside.

D-Loc: (cough cough) Man, we can’t stay in here forever. What are we gonna do?

Tax Man: Here’s the plan guys: See that pack of paramilitary dudes? We’re gonna run them over with
the bus. After that, we’ve just gotta jump out, raise some fucking hell, and figure it out.

Richter: Alright! (slams on the gas as the engine revs)

(Image of the bus plowing into a batallion of 30-50 dudes, killing or mortally wounding most of them.
Then the Kings jump out of the bus)

The Kings jump out to a grisly scene. They’d only seen violence on TV. They thought everything would be
clean, sanitized, and over quickly. But no, this was the real thing. The Kings looked on in horror at the
street covered in red, reeking of iron from the fresh blood. Bodies were mangled, legs were snapped,
arms were backwards, and the scene was complete chaos.

Daddy X: QUICK! Grab some weapons!

(Daddy X and Richter start throwing batons to the Kings as they prepare to do battle.)

An injured soldier lunges towards D-Loc, but D-Loc sees him and hits him squarely in the jaw with a
baton. The soldier’s eyes go blank as his jaw breaks with a sickening CRACK, his teeth mangled as he falls
to the ground unconscious.

Bobby B: These dudes mean business.. but what the fuck is going on????!!?

Tax Man starts searching the bodies for any information about who these people are or what the fuck
they could possibly want from the Kings.

Two soldiers jump on Pakelika from the roof of the bus. Pakelika starts to fall over but Bobby B has his
back. B swings his baton, caving in the skull of one of the soldiers who then drops like a sack of potatoes.
The other soldier starts to run off! But before can, Saint Dog comes in with a straight kick to the
stomach. The soldier reaches down for his baton, but Saint has the reflexes of a god and stomps his boot
into the throat of the downed soldier, collapsing his windpipe. Saint follows up with a baton straight into
the soldier’s eyeball, killing him instantly.

Pakelika: Woah, Saint! Chill the fuck out!

Saint Dog: You chill the fuck out! These motherfuckers are trying to kill us!

Tax Man: What the fuck.. all these dudes have the same tattoo on the back of their neck.. It’s a big D
with a circle around it.

Trapped Soldier: Aaauuuuuuughhh….

Daddy X: Oh shit, that dude’s trapped under our tire, he’s still alive..
Saint Dog: I got this. (Kicks the guy in the teeth) HEY FUCKER!

Trapped Soldier: Hey… fuck… (groan)… you…!

Saint Dog: What the fuck is this tattoo?

Trapped Soldier: (spits) I’m not telling you shit!

Saint Dog: Alright then.. (grabs a spork and holds it up to the man’s eye). Here’s the deal. You’re stuck
under this bus. This can end two ways. One, you tell us what we want to know and maybe, just maybe,
we’ll end this for you quick. Or two, I scoop your fucking eyeballs out with this spork. Now what’s it
gonna be?

Daddy X: Saint Dog! Not fucking cool man!!!!

Trapped Soldier: I’ll talk…. (spits blood at Saint Dog) bite me!

Kings: Noooo!

Saint Dog sticks the spork in the trapped soldier’s eye. The man lets out a blood-curdling scream of
terror that gives even Saint Dog a little pause.

*SPLOOOP!*

Trapped Soldier: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH! MY FUCKING EYEBALL!!!

Saint Dog: Hurts don’t it? Tell is what the fucking tattoo means…

Trapped Soldier: I’ll never (cough) tell! Just kill me now and get it over with!!!!

Saint Dog puts the spork up to the trapped soldier’s other eyeball

Kings: NOOOOOOO!

Saint Dog: One last chance.

Trapped Soldier: Downing… *cough* Downing International Capital Holdings.

Saint Dog: But why? (shakes the soldier’s head) WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS SHIT??

With a gasp, the solider dies. Immediately, another soldier attacks Daddy X. Daddy X punches the soldier
in the gut and he doubles over. Daddy X follows up with baton strikes to the soldier’s head, legs and
body until blood flies out and splatters more and more upon each hit.

A helicopter flies overhead and two soldiers paracchute in. D-Loc pulls out his hunting rifle and shoots,
ripping the parachutes and sending the men flying to the ground from 80 feet in the air. Their legs
shatter immediately upon impact and one is clearly dead. The other is groaning in pain. D-Loc and
Johnny Richter run over to investigate.

D-Loc: Tell us what the fuck this is about!

The parachute solider quickly reaches into his front pocket and pulls out a single black pill, then
swallows it. Immediately he begins seizing, jerking, and foaming at the mouth.
D-Loc: (kicks soldier) YOU MOTHERFUCKER! (punch) TELL ME WHAT THIS SHIT IS ABOUT (punch) OR I’M
GOING TO (punch) FUCK (punch) YOUR (punch) MOM! (huge haymaker punch)

The parachute soldier’s eyes glaze over and his body goes limp. D-Loc keeps punching until his hands are
bloodied

Richter: STOP! He’s dead man, STOP IT!!!

D-Loc: (gets up slowly, looking down at his bloody knuckles) I guess that’s why they call me crazy D-loc

The landscape is silent. The Kings take a moment to look around and assess the damage. Stores are
looted, injured people are in the streets, houses are on fire, and the entire landscape is in tatters.

One huge soldier that everybody missed runs up to Tax Man as he is combing through the bodies
looking for clues! The soldier jumps through the air, about to bring a giant fucking hammerfist down on
Tax Man’s head!

Oh fuck!

But at the last second, Tax Man sees him and does a quick tuck-and-roll under the guy’s legs, kicking him
in the balls with the momentum of his roll. The giant soldier hits the ground.

Tax Man: What the fuck is going on here?

Giant soldier: I’ll never tell you pricks!

The giant solider gets up, about to attack Tax Man again! Richter sees it and throws a broken bong
through the air like a tomahawk!
*THWAPSPLOOSHCRACKTINK*

Richter’s shot was dead on. The man stops as the broken bong penetrates through his entire head,
temple to temple. Blood pours out as the man drops to his knees. A cylindrical chunk of brain matter
and bone lubricated with blood falls out of the end of the broken bone with a SHOOMP. The deafening
silence returns. Tax Man wastes no time searching the dude and find a paper neatly folded in the
soldier’s inside jacket.

Daddy X: What does it say?

Tax Man: Shit, this isn’t good..

Richter: What the fuck does it say?

Tax Man: You’re not gonna like this shit…

Tax Man holds up the paper for the other Kings to see and the camera focuses in. It says “Objective:
Recover the sample” with Johnny Richter’s picture on it. The paper has a line at the bottom which says
“Property of Downing International Capital Holdings”

https://imgflip.com/i/2l53br

Richter: What the hell…

D-Loc: I know right? Who names their company DIC holdings? I’ll show them a fuckin’ dick holding!
(mimeographs masturbation excitedly)
Richter: But.. but… why?? What did I do to deserve this?

Daddy X: Just.. calm down dude!

Richter: No! (crumples the paper up and throws it on the ground angrily)

Tax Man: We’ll figure this shit out! Just calm the fuck down!

(Camera pans to Richter’s face close up as he screams, lightning striking the ground repeatedly in the
distance for dramatic effect)

Richter:

Although I did them no wrong they laid a trap for me

Although I did them no wrong they dug a pit for me

So let's set and ruin, over take them

Let them be caught in the snare they set for me

Let them fall to destruction in the pit they dug for me!!!!!!!!!!!!

The silence returned. The Kings sat. They rolled up some joints and smoked them.

Pakelika: (rips on the joint) Are we the only ones out here?
Tax Man: Looks like it…

D-Loc: What happened to the neighborhood watch?

Daddy X: Ha! Go figure… Wait ‘til there’s a real crime on our street, that’s when they’ll all run and hide.

Pakelika: Well, looks like we’ve gotta take back that neighborhood pride.

Saint Dog: How we gonna do that shit? Man, look at all this shit! Everything’s on fuckin’ fire! There was
an earthquake! All these dead bodies! Shit, how the fuck are we gonna bring back some pride to this
place??

(Pakelika walks off and picks up a looted TV, putting it back in a store’s display window)

Pakelika: One TV at a time

(Scene pans out, flying high up as the Kings walk off and start picking up looted TVs, joints hanging out of
their mouths)

Narrator:

And while the criminals are lying dead in the streets,

Kottonmouth’s returnin’ all the stolen TVs

(credits roll)

KMK The Movie part 35: Credits and explanation scene

(fade from credits)

Judge: (banging gavel) ORDER IN THE COURT!!! ORDER IN THE COURT!!!

(audience settles down)

Judge: We’ve arrived at the sentencing phase of the trial. Would you please state your name for the
record?

Allenworth: Windsor Allenworth, CEO of Downing International Capital Holdings.

Judge: Mr. Allenworth, do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help
you god?

Allenworth: Yes, your honor

Judge: Please tell us how this all came about.

Allenworth: One of Downing’s major investments is in touchscreens. Touchscreens require rare earth
metals. We were having some problems sourcing rare earth metals in the late 1990’s. Only a few
countries have any meaningful deposits, such as China, Russia, Mongolia, and India. But mostly China.
Political instability was causing our supply to dry up.

Judge: So why the Kottonmouth Kings?

Allenworth: One of our new biosensors was in the middle of field testing when it got an unusually high
reading for iridium. It led us to a Kings Show in Southern Cali. The reading from Richter was off the scale.
We had no idea, but something was up. Then we got a hit for gold at the next show. Then ytterbium.
After that, we knew that there was something amazing about Richter. So we came up with a plan.

First, we needed to get the Kings hooked on wealth. Conveniently, Mr. Richter loved scratch tickets, so
we had a scratch ticket made and ensured that a winner would be there for Richter when he came in.
We knew the Kings couldn’t manage their money because they smoked so much pot, so sooner or later
they’d need money again. We acquired Asscorp and when the right time came, we offered them a
record deal.

Unfortunately, our lawyers forgot something important in the contract. We decided it would be too
suspicious for our attorneys to approach them for another contract, so we had the Insane Clown Posse
take care of it. We knew they would get the job done right.

Once we had the contract, we had Richter abducted. We had a machine ready to go that would use a
gravity-bong type mechanism to force Mr. Richter to smoke incredible quantities of cannabis at a time,
then extract the materials from his blood. A pound of Acapulco Gold cost us 25 an ounce to grow. Mr.
Richter turns it into an ounce of gold in his blood. If we could get him to smoke a pound every hour, we
would solve our sourcing problems forever.

Then.. well, Tax Man came along. And our plans were foiled.
Judge: So, let me get this straight. You purchased a megacorporation just to sign a weed rap band so you
could force one of the members to smoke pot forever to make… cheaper touchscreens??!?!

Allenworth: Look, we have a fiduciary duty to our shareholders to increase their return on investment!

Judge: Do you have anything more to say on this matter before sentencing, Mr. Allenworth?

Allenworth: Nothing more, your honor.

Judge: Very well. Mr. Allenworth, do you respect this court?

Allenworth: Absolutely.

Judge: Will you accept that the sentence imposed upon you by this court is just and fair?

Allenworth: Yes I will, your honor.

Judge: The first company in the world was the East India corporation. It had a reason to exist. Slowly, yet
surely, corporations have gotten more and more greedy, ultimately harming the public corporations
were originally supposed to serve, just to line the pockets of private individuals. Corporate greed and
excess can no longer be excused by seeking to maximize shareholder value. This is a scourge which is
destroying the very fabric of our world. Where does it end? And how could you do so much harm for
something so insignificant like a touchscreen?

Allenworth: I’m sorry, your honor.

Judge: Well Mr. Allenworth, this is my courtroom. And in my courtroom I am the law. I hereby sentence
you to…

(tension builds as the judge lifts his gavel)

Judge: DEATH! (POP POP)

The courtroom is in stunned silence for an instant, the smoke cooking off the barrel of the judge’s gun as
Mr. Allenworth’s brains are splattered over the audience. An alarm sounds, people start fleeing the
courtroom. The stunned police officers rush the Judge behind the bench

The judge stands up and rips off his robe, revealing hundreds of KMK tattoos all on his chest, back, and
arms.

Judge: (screaming) LONG LIVE THE KOTTONMOUTH KIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINGS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(fade to black)
KMK The Movie part 36: Thank you

(screen stays pitch black)

(phone rings three times)

Deep voice: Hello?

Southern voice: Do you still have the sample’s blood?

Deep voice: Yes. The plan is still underway.

Southern voice: And what about Downing?

Deep voice: Fuck ‘em. They never mattered anyways.

Southern voice: Is the cloning operation ready?

Deep voice: Not yet, but soon.

Southern voice: You’ve done a great job on this. You’re gonna make a lot of people proud.

Deep voice: Couldn’t’ve done it without ya.

Southern voice: I appreciate all the hard work you’re putting in. You’ll be handsomely rewarded. Thank
you for everything.

Deep voice: No, thank you…. Mr. President.

(click)