For those who enjoyed “Friday,” this sequel lights up more of the same crass, hood-in-cheek humor. Rapper Ice Cube again does the script writing duties and stars as Craig Jones, the unemployed South Central homeboy who passes time chillin’ and smoking big, fat bones. In the prequel, Craig whomped the hood’s resident badass; now, after a jailbreak, the psycho wants a little payback. To save his skin, Craig hightails it to his nouveau riche (can you say lotto?) uncle’s posh suburban crib. But it turns out the burbs are even dicier than the hood. Next door is a posse of gun wielding low-riders — who rip-off uproarious quips from “American Me” and “Scarface” — their buxom sister and an irate bull terrier. Craig’s cousin (Mike Epps as the watered-down substitute for motor mouth, Chris Tucker) is on the run from his pregnant ex-girlfriend and her round, “Terminator”-esque sidekick. Then there’s the uncle’s lascivious playmate who’s got the hots for Craig. Couple that with a Chihuahua who defecates in immense proportions, a used condom in a hot tub, some unmentionable bathroom humor and you’ve got a pretty stupid, yet funny mess that on top of it all, squeezes the race card for cheap laughs. As a film, “Next Friday” is a drag, but if you don’t think too much, you might just find yourself chuckling at this new low in getting high.
