"I was in Portland, Oregon, and I was checked in a hotel under the name Charles Edward Cheese. I came back to my room late at night, and there was a note; it was like a letter on my desk. It was addressed to "Mr. Cheese." So, obviously, I'm gonna assume that whoever wrote this letter must be an intimate friend of mine; this is not some kind of name that a person would just guess. But then I open the letter, and it turns out I don't know this person at all. It's a fan letter. You know, I'm not even used to the idea that I have fans, but I'm grateful for it. And uh, and even though I'm grateful for fans, I... I don't read those letters. Be nice if I did, but realistically, it's like, "What am I, Santa Claus, nigga? I don't have time for this. I got shit I wanna do. I'm trying to chill."

“Ebola was in Texas. Ebola made a visit. Killed that man in Dallas. Five days, that man melted to death. What happened to the brother in Dallas? "Where was the secret serum?" is what we all said. I remember in the beginning of Ebola, there were two American doctors that got sick in Africa. They flew them in a private jet straight to Atlanta, to the CDC. I didn't even know CDC saw patients. There, it was said, they administered what The New York Times called "a secret serum." I don't know what's in it. It's just like Colonel Sanders' recipe. But both of these motherfuckers survived. These doctors, thank god, are healthy. They are out there somewhere tonight, at Whole Foods, touching vegetables, walking around. Everything's okay. "Hey, Frank. How are you?" "Oh you didn't hear? I had Ebola last week. But uh, I'm doing alright now. I was bleeding out of my eyes and anus, so I got concerned, but I'm okay." What happened to the brother in Dallas? They just rubbed some vicks on that nigga's chest. "Good luck, little buddy.”

“This motherfucker grabbed the podium, he goes, "You don't know how scary the things I read in my briefings are." And I was like, "Holy shit, man. You ain't supposed to tell us that, bro." That's bad leadership. Even as a parent, you think I'm gonna sit my kids down like, "Hey, little man, come here real quick, I just wanna holler at you for just a second. Yo, um... I'm three months behind on the rent, nigga, and I. am. worried. Very worried. But go on, go to school and have a productive day, nigga. I was just thinking out loud, getting some shit off of my chest.”

“That's a cold game. That's the motherfucking capitalist manifesto, and that's why I went to South Africa. So now we got us a little secret, bitch.”

“Stop worshipping celebrities so much. Just don't listen, don't pay attention. I remember, right around September 11th, Ja Rule was on MTV. That's what they said, they said "We got Ja Rule on the phone. Let's see what Ja's thoughts are on this tragedy." Who gives a fuck what Ja Rule thinks at a time like this, nigga, this is ridiculous. I don't want to dance, I'm scared to death. I want some answers that Ja Rule might not have right now. You think when bad shit happens to me, I'll be in the crib like, "Oh my god, this is terrible. Could somebody please find Ja Rule, get ahold of this motherfucker, so I can make sense of all this? Where is Ja?”

“There's a few reasons you don't see black people at my shows. One is because, obviously, black people have slower internet connections. I mean, that would be my guess. I don't know.”

“Have you ever watched, like, a cartoon that you used to watch when you were little, as an adult? That shit is wild shit. It's some wild shit. I mean, like, I was with my nephew. We sittin' there, we watchin' Pepé Le Pew. And I say to my nephew, I say, "Now pay attention to this guy, 'cuz he's funny. I used to watch him when I was little." And we watchin' Pepé Le Pew and I'm like, "Oh, man, what kind of fucking rapist is this guy? Like, take it easy, Pepé." My nephew was sittin' there crackin' up. "Heh, see, sometimes you gotta take the pussy like Pepé!" I was like, "No!" I had to turn the channel real quick. I turned it on Sesame Street. I said, "Oh, phew. Sesame Street. This is much better 'cuz now he'll learn how to count and spell." But now I'm watching it as an adult and I realize Sesame Street teaches kids other things. It teaches kids how to judge people and label people. That's right. They got a character on there named Oscar. They treat this guy like shit the entire show. They judge him right in his face. "Oscar, you are so mean. Isn't he, kids?" "Yeah Oscar, you're a grouch!" He's like, "Bitch, I live in a fucking trash can! I'm the poorest motherfucker on Sesame Street. Nobody's helping me." Then you wonder why your kids grow up and step over homeless people. "Get it together, grouch. Get a job, grouch.”