Mr. Robinson

Craig, this place is more packed than a Wal-Mart on Black Friday.

Because little brother,

I sent out hundreds of demos and invitations

to talent scouts and A&R guys.

I'm getting us a damn record deal.

So you're telling me all these people are record executives?

I also sent out free drink coupons

to everybody on our mailing list,

so most of these people are freeloaders and alcoholics.

So, what, any A&R guys show up?

One.

The man.

The rock legend.

Neville Rex.

You got Neville Rex here?

That dude got his own brand of methadone.

Yes, sir.

And he owns his own label.

I'm gonna get him to sign the Nasty Delicious if it kills me.

Well, I hope you die.

Let's get this deal?

Let's do it.

This is a little song called

Object of My Affection.

You know, mirror, when I look at you,

looking at me looking at you,

I see someone who looks a lot like myself

who is also left-handed.

Neville Rex,

it's amazing to meet you.

I'm Craig Robinson...

high school music teacher by day,

funk master by night.

Kind of like if Bootsy Collins could give you detention.

A schoolteacher, eh?

Well, that explains this, then.

You sent the invites on high school stationary?

Had to, B.

Free postage.

I think it's great that you're helping

shape the youth of America

just like I do with my music.

My multi-platinum hit, Kiss Me, Spank Me, Love Me,

inspired an entire generation.

Record deal.

- What are you doing? - Subliminal messaging.

Uh, maybe we can help each other out.

I've got some court-ordered community service to do.

Evidently, your police

frown upon public displays of affection

between a man, a prostitute,

a little person, and a mime...

who's also a prostitute.

And a little person.

I want to be a rock star so bad.

Okay, so you need community service?

I have an idea.

Why don't you come speak to my music class?

Brilliant idea!

I'll see you tomorrow.

Oh, I don't know if I can pull it off tomorrow.

Oh, yes, you can.

Now, you'll... you'll make it happen.

Think of the children.

You know, they are from the future.

How high are you?

Fine, thanks. How are you?

So you're pretty high.

Okay.

I'll make it happen.

See you at school.

Record deal!

Jimmy,

does this taste like beef?

I have only played this game once, Samir,

and this is not a beach rest room.

How do you expect Samir to be the imitation beef king of India

if you won't help him?

Please.

My taste buds have zero experience

with slaughterhouse flavors.

And I'll never surpass my brother Vikram's success

if I don't get this right.

Vikram Panj?

The Curry King of Mumbai? That's your brother?

He's global, man.

He's like the Indian Papa John's.

Okay, who's ready for our investment club meeting?

Victoria, I don't know why we have this meeting every month.

All the stocks you pick suck.

Thank you, Jimmy.

With that being said,

the stock that we bought last semester

is now worth a lot of money!

Oh! When I said "suck," I meant you rock.

So how much did we make?

Right now, our shares are worth $12,356 each.

Oh! Cash out.

Cash out.

Okay, if I learned anything

from being a wealthy professional tennis player,

it's spend your money while you have it,

'cause you're not gonna have it forever.

And that's why you'll end up living

under the fryer of a burnt-out White Castle.

Look, the stock is still rising.

I think we should hold on to it.

I agree.

I'm gonna need a lot more than 12 grand

if I want to be India's substitute beef king.

Come on, guys, all I'm gonna need is 10 grand

to start M-T-A-F-I-C-K.

Ma-taffick?

No, Indian Solange...

the Magnum Tennis Academy for Inner City Kids.

I remember when I was young

I used to watch all the poor kids play.

I thought,

"They suck."

I'd call them over

and just pour Gatorade on the ground.

"Look what I can do."

I say we hold on to the stock.

I could use the extra money to put a bigger kitchen

into the house I'm trying to flip.

Okay, well, majority rules. Sorry, Jimmy.

Oh, so say three minorities.

Eileen, this budget is incredible.

It must have taken you weeks.

Months. I'm exhausted.

That's why I look the way I do.

Oh. That's why.

Tomorrow's budget meeting is never gonna be more important,

so don't screw it up, Eileen.

Keep those puffy eyes on the prize.

Hey, P.T. Hey, what's up, Dalts?

Craig, to the "R," to the "O,"

to the "Binson."

Ohh.

Been wondering when I get to funk it up with you.

Some would say you're doing it right now.

Seriously,

Craig,

we need to jam.

Seriously. Soon.

Jam.

So, I need your permission for something.

I convinced a world-famous musician

to come here and speak to the kids.

I just need your okay.

Sure.

That's great, Mr. Robinson.

You know, we haven't had a speaker here

since Bill Nye the Science Guy

became Bill Nye the Stabbed Guy.

I don't believe me eyes.

If it isn't the love of my life,

Eileen "Tight Fit" Taylor.

Neville...

the Devil?

So you two know each other?

Two years on the road together.

I know every inch of this vixen,

outside and three inches in.

It's kind of romantic.

What?

What are you doing here?

Look, I'm Neville's shadow

till we sign this record deal.

This dude is wild, man.

He bought a car to drive it two blocks,

then he traded it to a homeless guy for a pickle.

Damn.

That's full-blown rock star.

Principal Taylor,

I'm so sorry.

I did not know you and Neville had a past.

But look, he's here now.

Why don't we just let him talk to the kids.

He might be able to teach them something.

Oh, yes, like how to find drug scraps in the carpet

with the lights off.

No, there's no way he's talking to my kids.

I want him out of this school.

Now.

Maybe some dinner tonight, Tight Fit?