The Last O.G.

When you lie, you run from that lie the rest of your life.

When you lie to a woman, it's only a matter of time

before that lie finds you, body slams you,

then makes you its bitch.

- Next! - Enter Pooh Cat.

Hi. I'm here to see, uh, Tray Barker.

Inmate 0074563.

Mm, I'm sorry, inmate number

0074563 is no longer with us.

Please don't tell me that.

Oh, my God. Did the diabetes get him?

Was he shanked in the yard?! What?

He was released a few weeks ago.

He... released?

My man was released, and he didn't even call me?

That big-gut Biz Markie-lookin' mother !

No! Get off of me! You don't...

To think that I had been smuggling reefer

and Wild Berry Skittles in my love pocket

every Sunday for the last five years,

and he can't even text my ass!

Get off of me!

Oh, no, Tray Barker.

Oh, no, you made promises.

Uh-huh, and this will not stand!

I look beautiful.

Mm-hmm. I ain't spent eight years

as prison tailor for nothing, nigga.

- - You're sharp, boy.

Understand that.

Tom Ford can suck my dick.

Save those tears for the funeral.

I'm happy to support Shay-Shay through this difficult time.

And, Shay, don't cry because you're losing a mother.

But smile because Heaven is gaining an angel.

Rest in peace, Mama Ruth.

And when you see Jesus, tell that nigga I said, "What up?"

I think your bitch is definitely gonna feel

emotionally supported.

I told you, Gustavo.

Don't call her a bitch, okay?

She's the love of my life.

She's a goddess!

Then why are you feeding her a bill of goods?

From what you told me about her mama,

she ain't getting into heaven.

'Cause you don't tell nobody the truth at the funeral, okay?

You whisper how you really feel at the repass.

You right, that is tradition.

I'm not lying.

In death, we all become 50% better.

How you figure?

Michael Jackson.

In life, he dangled a child out a window,

had slumber parties with underage children.

But in death, he became the GOAT,

the Greatest Of All Time.

That's a good point.

Look at Big Country, two-time felon.

When he burp, it smell like a fart.

He spits indoors.

Right on the carpet. That shit is foul.

But if he died tonight, by tomorrow,

we'll be drawing murals of him on the wall.

Y'all better cry, too.

I sense something.

A presence I haven't felt since...

Y'all smell Wild Berry Skittles?

- Aah! - What's going on in here?

You know we drug test every Friday, Chubby Denzel.

You can piss dirty if you want to.

That would make my day.

Mullins, I'm cool.

Well, you got a visitor, Barker.

It's a woman, and she fine, too.

- A woman? - Yeah.

What you talking about, a woman? What woman?

Aw, shit!

I knew it!

Mullins, you gotta cover for me.

Tell her I ain't here!

Tell her I'm in Florida!

Tell her I'm dead! Tell her I got hit by a car!

What is wrong with you, boy?

Are you afraid of a woman?

Well, that's just the height of "misogery."

Misogyny, you idiot!

Eat a dick biscuit, Felony!

Wasn't nobody talking to you!

That's Pooh Cat, my prison groupie, man!

She used to put money on my books when I was locked up, man!

She used to smuggle in assorted sundries.

I gave her my promise!

Promises I know I can't keep!

I promised her the world!

Boy, you crazy.

It's a good woman wearing them sexy crocs.

Then you keep her!

Aah!

A'ight, we all clear, Tray.

No sign of Pooh Cat.

We are all clear.

Why are people taking pictures of the body?

Is that a thing?

Yeah, taking pictures of the casket

is the only African-American tradition

I really can't get behind.

Ugh, that is so ratchet.

I'm just gonna go Snapchat the flowers.

Oh, yeah, much classier.

I can't believe you had Ruth buried in turquoise.

She liked primary colors.

You'd know that if you'd be around

instead of trying to act all fancy

with Mr. F. Scott Fitzgerald over there.

First off, it's not turquoise, it's cerulean.

And Meryl Streep did a beautiful speech about it

in "The Devil Wears Prada."

Now you just gonna casually bring up

the devil in a house of God?

Unbelievable.

She looks good!

I am not in the mood to be going around and around

with you today, Vernita.

Not at my mother's funeral.

- Your mother? - Mm-hmm.

You didn't even know her no more.

Damn shame the way you dropped out of her life like that.

Damn shame!

Really?

Vern and Vernita!

Two of my favorite cousins of Shay.

- My God. - Big Tray Barker! You came!

You invited him?

Well, we ran into him on the block.

Ain't no reason for him not to be here.

You look good, Tray. Real good.

Did them years like a soldier.

It wasn't nothing. You know how we do.

I can't wait to whup your ass at some craps later on tonight.

You better empty your pockets right now, my dude.

- - Turquoise.

Please.

Funny.

My family has more respect for you,

who spent 15 years locked up, instead of for me

who put myself through school, pay half of they bills.

I can't believe this.

You put her in turquoise, Shay.

Everybody knows she don't like that color.

These are for you.

I feel sorry for your loss.

They're coming at me

like she was mother of the year.

Yeah, but we all know she wasn't.

You only get one mother, Shay.

Even though she wasn't shit, she was your mother.

Come here.

Please, come here.

Come here.

You shouldn't be here.

- Shay, I came for you. - The last time I went to

- a funeral with you... - Devontay Mills.

And you tried to take his watch right out the casket

while everybody's eyes were closed praying.

That's right, because everybody knows a Rolex

ain't supposed to go in the ground,

especially Devontay owed me 10K and a steak dinner.

I'm not supposed to be laughing.

Everybody here already thinks I'm a deadbeat daughter.

Since when you start caring about everybody?

Look, I gotta pay Pastor Tyrell.

Everything around here is my fault,

and every bill is still my responsibility.

Go for Hawkeye.

Code Red! Code Red!

Pooh Cat is here!

I don't know how she found you, but she did!

Hawkeye out, son! That bitch is a ninja.

That's your card.

- Oh. - What happened?

Am I magic? No, I'm just a man.

- I'm just a man. -

Ain't she fake?

Thinks she all that now she out the 'hood,