Bebe's Kids AKA Robin Harris' Bebe's Kids

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I don't talk to no pretty women

when I'm on the road.

Hard to get along with.

You know, pretty women are

hard to get along with.

An ugly woman is easy. You know,

they don't want no trouble, you know.

I'm serious.

They doing their thing,

cook all night for you.

And I have bad luck

with women, y'all don't know.

Man, you don't know.

You meet a woman with their kids,

you can't even get none.

Go over girl's house, what,

4 in the morning.

4:
00 in the morning,

little kids still up.

Drinking coffee and taking NoDoz.

You start yawning, they look at your

ass, talking about, "Can't hang, huh?"

We BeBe's kids.

We don't die, we...

...multiply!

I went to pick her up the next day,

and here she got four more kids.

I said:

"Who kids are them?"

She said, "Those are BeBe's kids."

Some guy out there,

some white guy out there

thought they were my... my kids.

That's what made me mad.

"Bro, brother...

"Bro-ham.

"Tell me, are those your kids?"

"No, no way.

Ain't none of them my kids.

"Them BeBe's kids."

I went to turn my radio on, man,

they tried to take my radio

while I'm listening to it.

Girl said, "Put the radio back,

"you know damn well we can't

get rid of no more 8-track.

"Put it back."

You cannot eat hot links on the bar.

Hey, mister, that beer has been here

since 12:
00 this afternoon.

You either order again or

you got to go. I'm sorry.

I got some money-spending

people coming in here.

I gotta make some room in here.

All these lowlife deadbeats

ain't never spending...

Hey. If you don't go somewhere and

sit down, I'm gonna knock you down,

you know that? You about

to get on my last nerve.

What's wrong, Robin?

Woman trouble?

Get it off your chest.

I don't want to talk about it right now.

Come on, man, you'll feel better.

Come on, boy, get it off your chest.

I don't want to talk about it right now.

Man, you can't walk around with

problems staying inside you.

The best thing to do is let it out.

You'll feel better.

Not right now. I really ain't

got nothing to say.

All right.

- All right.

- I knew she was trouble.

I should have known it

when I met her.

It was at a funeral.

Oh, Lord!

- Oh, Walter!

- Everybody was there.

Because everybody was

glad he was dead.

He was about 4-feet-3. Wore

those high-heeled shoes all the time.

He was about 5-feet-6,

but when that truck hit him,

kind of cut him down a little bit.

Look at this brick house.

Damn!

She so fine, she make you

want to get a job, with benefits.

Let's play the game, man.

I'm playing the game, man,

you just looking to hit. Hit that!

- Drop something down!

- I don't know.

- In Beverly Hills, we don't play that.

- I'm gonna take all your money.

That boy is crazy, ain't he crazy?

Look who just walk in here.

Hey, Robin.

Come over here.

You've been working last week.

- Come and lose some of that money.

- Oh, no.

Only way I'd lose money to y'all

if I had a hole in my pocket.

Then sit down and quit trying to

look at everybody's hand.

Shut up, you old fat fool.

You so big you don't know if

you're walking or rolling.

I'm not fat. I'm pleasantly plump.

I keep telling you that.

Boy, I'm so glad that

damn Walter is dead.

Who ain't? The only reason

his widow is over there crying

is because he didn't leave

her no life insurance.

I'm sorry to hear that, because

he died owing me money again.

Shoot, Walter owed everybody money.

Let me tell y'all something.

That Walter was so cheap, he

wouldn't spend a lovely evening.

Wait a minute, wait a minute.

Who's that girl in that black dress?

Good God almighty.

- Which one?

- With the braids.

- Have mercy.

- Oh, her?

- She was Walter's secretary.

- I'll bet she can't type a stroke.

Type? I don't think she had to type.

Hey, Rudy, ain't your wife a secretary?

Y'all stop this stuff now,

I'm trying to win this game.

Here she comes.

Y'all ever notice that Walter smelled?

He's got that new deodorant on.

I think it's called formaldehyde.

You sure look good in black, baby!

She puts me in the mind

of Players magazine.

Nineteen seventy-three.

Pam Grier issue.

That's the one, that's the one.

I know it's hard now.

If you need me, call me.

OK? All right.

Hey, look here y'all, I gotta go.

Because while I'll be at work tomorrow,

y'all be in a bed dreaming about a job.

At least we be dreaming and not

hauling nobody else's trash.

That's for sure.

I like funerals.

I'm glad I went to a funeral.

I'll be glad when I go to yours.

Excuse me, miss.

I didn't catch your name.

- Didn't throw it.

- Well, my name is Robin.

Robin.

That explains the red vest.

Oh, like the bird.

That's kind of cute.

A little festive for this event, though.

Shoot, I don't care nothing

about no Walter.

I could have come to Walter's

funeral in my drawers.

Pretty late for a woman to

be catching the bus all alone.

- Do you need a ride?

- No, thank you.

I have a car.

Well, mind giving me one, then?

Well, that sure was a

nice funeral, wasn't it?

Well, that sure is a good sign, you feel

comfortable enough to give me a ride,

even though you don't know

a damn thing about me.

Because I could be crazy, you know.

I hate doing a favor for somebody

who make you want to take it back.

You know, like when you

give somebody a ride,

and they got a warrant out on them.

Hey, hey, tell a brother buckle up first.

You trying to tell me

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