Just the man I want to see.
Damn, Lloyd, you back on the street, man?
What happened? You and Vic had another roomie spat?
Yeah, my ex-best friend kicked me out.
I don't give a damn about him.
I couldn't tell you how it was living with that punk.
He's a tyrant.
Act like he's the mayor of something.
"Lloyd, wash your ass, Lloyd. Wash your ass, Lloyd. Ass. Ass. Ass."
He was obsessed.
I was like, "Damn, why you worried about my ass?"
'Cause your ass stink, Lloyd.
He gonna get what's coming to him.
Have a little food there, Jesus.
Oh, thanks, Lloyd.
Get as much as you want now, Jesus.
Now... um, I want to talk to you about my Christmas list.
Now, I've been very good.
I've been... I'm talking about I've been excellent.
And I got a long list of things that I want for Christmas.
Thank you for the food, man, but I've been telling folks to miss me with that "I've been good" sh1t, man.
Take it to that fat white (bleep) down at the mall, brah.
But it's Christmas.
Yeah, I know it's Christmas.
It's my birthday.
Why you got to get sh1t on my birthday?
I don't get sh1t on yours, man.
(bleep) out of here.
Come back here!
You better learn what Christmas is all about!
Jesus: Man, people always surprised to hear how I hate Christmas, but they shouldn't be, 'cause Christmas is some bullshit.
It's supposed to be about giving, but every year the takers come out.
Case in point.
I'm sorry, did I wake you? My bad.
Early Christmas present.
Happy birthday to the King of kings.
And there's more where that came from if you just come to my Christmas party.
Man, you can keep this little funky-ass weed, man.
I told you I wasn't coming to your party, Ms. Tudi.
Jesus, baby, please, you got to come.
Because I've already sent out invitations and-and e-mails with your picture on it.
Merry Christmas, Ms. Tudi.
Merry Christmas, baby.
You always have me on some exploitative sh1t, man.
Just like last year.
Remember you set up the little photo booth and charged people $20 a head?
A dub a head!
To take a picture with me.
That was good!
No, it wasn't good, man... You had drunk (bleep) sitting on my lap, spilling drink all on my garb.
Smelling like yak all night; is that how you want to be treated for your birthday?
Ms. Tudi: All right, well, listen here... this is different.
Now, I got the best idea ever.
Okay, check this out.
A live nativity scene on my front lawn starring... you!
You want me to be a lawn ornament?
That's some bullshit, Ms. Tudi.
You know what?
I'm thinking about Buddhism.
Well, well, well, if it ain't the Australian con man.
Merry Christmas, nigga.
Did you really kick Lloyd out, man?
On Christmas, brah?
Hell yeah, I did.
He's a degenerate.
Got a horrible work ethic, just like you.
You know, man, that's some (bleep) up sh1t to tell a brother on his birthday, man.
That's right. Yeah.
Well, I got some good news for you, man.
Gift straight from God.
Hey, Pops blessed you with a gift?
The Word?! Ah, man, that's the gift that keep on giving.
Come on, lay it on me, man, come on, what'd he say?
He says, "Beware of false prophets and those that would disguise themselves to be servants of righteousness. Their end will correspond with their deeds, as they will be hurled into a lake of burning sulfur to be tormented day in and day out forever."
Vic, man, I-I don't think that was supposed to be taken literally, brah.
In your case, you better take it literally.
You going to Hell, con man.
In case you didn't know, that's a whole lot hotter than Australia.
Man, everybody can miss me with this stupid-ass holiday bullshit.
Oh, man, here this nigga go again.
Nah, man, seriously though.
Whatever that is they out there celebrating ain't got sh1t to do with me.
Fish: Yeah, yeah, yeah, we know, Jesus... you hate Christmas.
Everybody knows that you hate Christmas.
Yeah, man, why you got to (bleep) it up for the rest of us, man?
You want to be known as the Jesus that ruined Christmas?
Fish: Yeah, man, don't be ruining our Christmas just 'cause you in a bad mood.
So we gonna celebrate your birthday a little early this year.
(laughing): Oh, snap!
Hey, y'all did this for me?
Yeah, man, so cheer your ass up, man.
We got you.
Your homies got your back, man.
Hey, things could be a lot worse.
(knocking on door)
Get the door, Jay.
Hey, baby. (coughs)
I don't know why I'm still getting it... we haven't lived together in ages.
Oh, thank you, baby.
You ain't even have to do all that.
Want to come inside and kick it?
Nah, I'm cool.
Ah. All right, well, have fun "kicking it."
(speaks in Spanish)
Have fun shooting people.
Jay, you need to go with her, man.
It's your destiny, man.
She want to spend Christmas with you.
Nah, I'll just call her later.
Hey, Jesus, what am I getting this year?
Nothing, man, your daddy's an alcoholic and he lost his job.
Stop being so self-centered.
Jesus, man, you shouldn't do stuff like that.
Nah, they don't care about nothing but theyself, man.
People are over Christmas now.
You're not the only one who hates your birthday, all right?
You don't have a job, you don't have no money, you can't go shopping.
To be honest, we all wish we could skip it.
And I wish I could just skip being the Holy Redeemer and the Heavenly Savior.
All right, now you just talking crazy.
Nah, man, I'm telling the truth, man.
Sometimes I don't even want to be Jesus no more.
Here I am spreading the goodness and the (bleep) light, you feel me? That's all I know.
But all they know is the Santa Claus bullshit.
Hey, brah, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave.
Ah, here we go, man.
Why you got to mess with me, man?
Man, you are too agitated and too black right now.
And this outfit is offensive... it's Christmas.
You right... it is Christmas.
It's my birthday!
My (bleep) birthday!
(bleep) all this hyper-consumerism bullshit!
This ain't what Christmas is about!
It's about getting your boy what he want!
And what I want is peace on (bleep) Earth!
We on top of this (bleep)!
Oh, yeah, bitch-ass Santa Claus.
Hey, man, it's his birthday, man, oh!
Jesus, are you okay?
Quick, we need an ambulance!
(echoing): Jesus! Jesus!
Are you okay?
(echoing): Are you okay? ...you okay?
All right, so, how you feeling?
That's a pretty nasty bump you got there.
But no concussions or serious damage.
What day is it?
Still Christmas Eve.
Are my, are my friends here?
You didn't come with any friends.
Look, I just need you to fill out a few documents, and I'll have you on your way, Fred.
What you call me, brah?
Fred. Fred Bethlehem?
At least, that's what's on your driver's license.
I don't have a driver's license, man.
Somebody should've told this guy.
(laughing): You were born on Christmas Day.
That must suck!
(sighs) Look, Doctor, somebody made a huge mistake.
Man, that's not me, brah.
L-Like I said, that's a pretty nasty bump.
But it'll all start coming back to you soon...
I got to get out of here.
Hey, Pops, it's me, man.
There's some strange sh1t going on down here.
And I really need you to holler at me with the quickness.
Until then, I'm just gonna assume it was your divine hand putting in work.
In my resplendent and illustrious name, I pray, Pops.
Oh, my bad, Lloyd.
What the hell?
Oh, Freddie, hey!
What's going on, man?
Listen, I'm just up here enjoying the day, taking a nice little nap, man. How you been, Freddie?
No, I'm not cool!
What is you doing out here on the streets, looking like Lloyd?!
Hold up, nigga.
I might be dirty, nasty and drunker than a (bleep), but I damn sure don't look like no Lloyd!
That's just mean.
Hey, fellas, how's it going?
Hey, it's that doctor!
I ain't no doctor. That-that's my side hustle.
This is my real job.
How's your head, Fred?
(laughs): Oh, okay, I get it.
You ain't no doctor, man. You a angel!
You can't fool me, man.
I know angels when I see them.
Freddie, you-you okay, man?
Brah, I told you, man.
My name ain't Freddie, man.
It's Jesus H. Christ. Come on, you know me, brah.
Nigga, you on the pipe?
Actually your name was Jesus H. Christ.
Now you're Freddie Bethlehem, ordinary negro.
Retired-foreign-league basketball-playing-looking (bleep).
And look at your boy Jason.
Without Jesus in his life.
Piece of sh1t, Bobby Brown reject-looking (bleep)... look at him!
He's given up. Nigga, you know I can hear you?
All right, so look, man, you never did answer my question, man.
This-this is all Pops trying to teach me some little Christmas lesson or something, right?
No, this is not Pops teaching you some type of Christmas lesson.
It's Pops granting you your Christmas wish.
You're not Jesus anymore.
Jesus: You're (bleep) with me, right?
I mean, Pops took away my divinity?
Have you noticed how hard it is to reach him now?
Ordinary people can't reach God.
They need you. Ain't this a bitch?
Freddie, how many times I told you to stop loitering in front of Compton Gardens, giving it a bad name?
Get that dirty, funky box out of here!
And I told you stop throwing packages over that gate.
Okay, I'm sorry.
You threw one last week.
And this funky-ass nigga here got it.
Lies! And I'm gonna sue your ass.
Mr. Lloyd, I will see you at the Compton Christmas Celebration, right?
Oh, yeah, I'll be there.
Angel: Without you, Lloyd stayed in the rat race.
And as you can see, look!
He's just a bitter, angry (bleep).
All right, ah.
Got more packages to deliver.
Hey, wait, though... if-if-if Lloyd running the complex, where Vic at?
Vic's the mayor of Compton!
I got a special Christmas gift for you... a bullet up your ass.
Where's that son of yours?
I need to know quick.
We got 40 minutes to get down to the park and it's gonna take me 30 minutes to whip his ass for what he did.
You didn't say nothing about no gun.
Now, why you got the gun?
Come on, baby.
This is Compton. It's a lot of crazy fools out there.
Ain't you the mayor?
Ain't that why you got all them bodyguards and Secret Service?
I don't need them niggas.
I'm the sheep dog.
The protector of the flock.
(laughing): The sheep...?!
Hey, what's up, Moms? Sorry I'm late.
I had to go get my hair cut.
I got a new outfit.
And I got my nails done, my feet done, new jewelry...
Stop, Boon. Just stop it. Stop.
Boonie, I was in your room earlier.
And I found this.
Vic: Oh, hell nah! Nah, nah.
It's because of that bitch!
No stepson of mine gonna be a druggie!
(Ms. Tudi shouting)
You big-ass bitch! I'm gonna whip your ass!
That's why the nigga like you!
Wish you had an ass!
Come over here, bitch! Come here!
Bad! No drugs, nigga!
Ms. Tudi: And you gave my precious Boonie weed!
I'm gonna beat your ass, bitch!
See, it's the mayor house right here.
Nah, man, this Ms. Tudi's hou...
Vic and Ms. Tudi?
Imagine that. Without you, Ms. Tudi never knew the pleasures of weed.
She became a alcoholic and married Vic.
Yep, and without you around to hate on, Vic had enough time and energy to run for mayor and win.
Is that... Dianne?
Damn it, Freddie, what the hell are you doing here?
Hey, look, Dianne, I-I know this might sound crazy as (bleep), but I'm not who you think I am, girl.
Dianne: Yes, you are, Freddie. You're a loser.
What's this? You hanging out with bums, now? Huh?
I've had enough of this.
This relationship is...
(indistinct voice over earpiece)
Yes, sir. Okay, okay.
Some of us are working.
Merry Christmas, you asshole.
Man, how you lose a woman like that?
You know what I'd do to have a woman like that?
Man, that is your woman!
You ain't my daddy!
Everybody, come on, let's get cleaned up.
I'm sorry. We gotta get down to the park and talk to the people of Compton.
I'm-a finish whupping your ass when I get back.
I'll be your daddy then, nigga.
Mayor! Over here! Mayor, Mayor, over here!
Hey, get that camera out of here.
Mayor, over here!
Come on, girl...
I-I got it, I got it.
Hey! Boon! Can I get one?
What's up, Boon? It's me!
It's your boy, Jesus!
Hey, (bleep) you, man.
Maggie! What's up?
It's your boy, it's Jesus!
Angel: Mayor, look this way!
Right here! Come on, man, watch out.
What's up, man?
It's your boy!
Angel: Mayor, let me get one!
Are y'all just gonna push off old Jesus?
Come on, it's...
A'ight, a'ight, dawg.
Look, this is all getting a little bit too weird.
Okay, Pops, I'm good, I'm straight.
Tell Pops I got the message, I understand, I'm straight.
I don't want to not be Jesus no more; I'm good.
I can't help you, bruh.
Hey, you know this dude named Fish?
Yeah. You talking 'bout your homeboy Fish, right?
Yeah, you know, the brown-skinned dude?
I always liked Fish, man.
You know, he-he my kind of dude right there.
Uh, where he at, though?
Oh, he dead.
Police kill him for selling burned DVDs.
Wh... Wh... Where?
Couple blocks up that way.
Nah, Pops. Pops, come on, Pops.
I'm sorry I hated on Christmas so hard, Pops.
I'm sorry I s... I said I didn't want to be your Divine and Holy Son no more, Pops.
It's too late for Fish, Freddie.
Jesus was the only one holding him down in these streets.
And you better hurry up, because Fish won't be the only dead homie out here.
Lloyd is planning on assassinating Vic at the Christmas in Compton celebration.
Without you, Lloyd became a radical libertarian.
He thinks Vic's a tyrant.
(Lloyd chuckling maniacally)
(bleep) is crazy.
No, Pops, this can't be right.
Pops, this ain't right, Pops!
Come on, Pops.
Come on, let's fix this, Pops, come on, Pops, send me a sign, Pops.
This ain't real, man!
Oh, no, it's real, it's real.
Here go your sign right here.
You put it up there. Look. Say "Freddie B."
Now that's what I'm talking 'bout, pimp?
Come on, Jay.
Hey, nigga, slow down.
Vic: Welcome, and Merry Christmas.
As we all know, Christmas is a time for happiness.
And family is what I want to talk to y'all about today.
See, we have a scourge in our neighborhoods and that scourge is called marijuana.
Why, I just caught my stepson smoking marijuana just this morning.
Yeah, that's right, Boonie.
You (bleep) up Christmas for everybody!
That's why, henceforth, as your mayor, I declare, okay, that in spite of the liberals and all these other hippies running around talking sh1t, smoking weed... and weed itself... will remain illegal in Compton forever.
That's right, 'cause we gonna have a clean Compton.
A Compton where little babies can breathe freely.
A Compton where kids can walk to school without walking through a cloud of smoke.
We pushing for a new Compton!
A Compton where niggas remember they last name!
Where we no longer have to spend half our paychecks on chips from smoking weed and gettin' the munchies.
We gonna move forward...
Can't let the tyrant get away!
What the hell are you doing here, Lloyd?!
Lloyd: Sending your black ass home!
(people shouting, screaming)
Ms. Tudi: No! No! Vic!
Hey, what the (bleep) are you doing?
Someone's coming, baby!
I'm sending you home!
Ms. Tudi: Vic!
Ms. Tudi: Oh, my baby!
Officer: It's the Mayor and his wife!
Babe! My baby!
Officer: We need backup!
Pops, Pops, please...
Ms. Tudi (sobbing): Baby...!
(echoing): Please, Pops, I've had it...
Maggie: Jesus! Are you okay?
Jesus... are you okay?
What day is it?
It's Christmas Eve.
You dating Boonie?
No, I tried to give her some money, but she wouldn't go for it.
It ain't too late. It's ain't too late!
It ain't too late! Hallelujah!
He did it, y'all!
It ain't too late, you know, he did it.
God delivered us from the most (bleep) up Christmas ever!
Eh... Merry Christmas!
Jesus: All right, so maybe I need to chill out on Christmas, man.
Problem is, we put way too much on it, you know?
Christmas is a time to (bleep) with cake, love all your peeps, share your weed and be thankful for your blessings.
And get fat with people you love. That's it.
Merry Christmas, buddy.
Hey, man, why don't you come in and have some Christmas dinner?
Really, Vic? Really.
Oh, you the man, Vic. (laughing)
Thank you, Vic.
You still stink, man.
I got some new Christmas soaps.
Smell like cinnamon.
Everybody know cinnamon smell better than ass.
Jesus: Oh, and it's a great excuse for hard-headed (bleep) niggas to squash that bullshit they going through and just keep it moving.
Yeah, them, too.
But at the end of it all, what matters most is me: Jesus Christ.
As much as I loved me before, I love me even more now.
And that's what Christmas is all about.
And (bleep) Santa Claus!