The story behind Don't Play With Me Part 2 is almost as fascinating and wonderful as the actual film. Back in 2002 when I was but a teenager, my devious uncle (on my mothers side) brought home a handful of VHS tapes with handmade labels, among them was Don't Play With Me Part 2. This was entirely uninteresting to me at the time as my hobbies included horror films and ogling women in the hallways of my predominantly "ghettotech" high school. I vividly remember my two uncles drinking copious amounts of cheap beer while watching these films in our living room, back when VHS still reigned king in our late-to-relate living room. Listening to their chuckles and cheers was almost enough to interest me but the collected effect simply rolled off my resisting shell. I blame the lack of blaxploitation in my film palette, personally. As the years went by, the tapes, hidden away in our small film cabinet, became crowded with obligatory family-oriented DVDs and the VHS tapes were eventually stacked away in the attic. Flash forward to present day and you'd find me kneeling at the idol of John Greenwell, in awe of the impression his vigor left on me. Trash Humpers in several aspects and aspiring Dolemite redux, Don't Play With Me Part 2 is simply a masterpiece in regards to our Maryland community and the hilarious story behind the tape.