America is basically
a restaurant. America is a restaurant
that sells equality. That’s all it is.
They serve equality, and some of y’all
had some delicious equality. It was good.
You had great service. And some of us need
to speak to a manager. [cheers and applause] You telling black people
to stand for the anthem, that’s the same
as walking around Applebee’s, telling people not to complain
about they food. How you get to dictate
how somebody else complain about they situation? You may as well just walk
around Applebee’s, “You need to fucking be happy “that you even in
this Applebee’s. “You know how many people
outside trying to sneak “in this Applebee’s? We had to build a wall
around this Applebee’s.” And I’d be like, “Yo, man,
you need to calm your ass down. “Get your facts straight.
First off, “I was at Red Lobster,
minding my business. Y’all brought us
to Applebee’s.” – I don’t know what we gonna do
between us and the police. This shit is getting hard. Every day,
police might get called on you while you’re trying
to get coffee. Police might get called on you while you’re trying
to barbecue. Police might get called on you while you’re trying
to mow the yard, take a nap, sell some water. At this point, if you black, the safest thing you can do
every day is just call the police
on yourself. I mean, the white people
gonna call anyway, so you may as well take
the power back. Control the narrative. That’s what I’m gonna do
every day, call the police and compliment. Say something nice
about yourself. Change the perception. “911, what’s your emergency?” Ain’t no emergency. It’s just a smooth motherfucker headed to Walgreens. Just checking in. Red jacket, white pants. Don’t shoot me! “All units, be advised,
male black, Walgreens.” Respond code…
[imitates radio clicking] I don’t know. I don’t know what the–
I don’t know what you do. Move too slow,
you might get shot. Move too fast,
you might get shot. Don’t move,
you wasn’t obeying commands, you might get shot. Yo, at this point, like,
I ain’t gonna tell y’all how to dress every day
so you can feel safe, but I’m gonna start wearing
a cap and gown everywhere I go. Until things cool off
for a little while. You ain’t never felt threatened
by somebody in a cap and gown, not never. Cap and gown is like
a wedding dress. You see somebody wearing it,
it make you happy. It change your mood.
So that’s what I’ma do. Until we get
some real police reform, I’m wearing a cap and gown
every day with a fuckin’–
with a middle school diploma in my back pocket. A middle school diploma
and an engagement ring. It’s gonna be
the saddest story. ‘Cause you ain’t gonna sweep me
under the rug. ‘Cause this is what’s crazy.
We live in a time now where if you get shot
on the wrong day, you might not even make it
in the news! They’ll sweep your story
all the way to the back page. Damn that.
I’m gonna be on the front page. If the police shot
a 40-year-old eighth grader, I promise you… it’s gonna be a conversation
about me. Y’all better riot for my ass. And in other news today, police shot
a 40-year-old eighth grader. He’s survived by his three
ex-wives and six children. Send a prayer for Mr. Charles. Pay cops more money.
Money is part of the solution. It ain’t the only solution,
but it’s part of it. Here’s the thing.
We love to act like all these good cops
just gonna all step up and do the right thing
together. Please. Most people don’t do the right
thing for the right reason. They do the right thing
for the right price. It’s about the money.
And don’t get me wrong. There’s plenty of good cops
out there, man, but not enough
to effect change. You gotta do something
to incentivize. You gotta break bread. And don’t tell me you ain’t got
the money to pay cops more. Every time somebody get hit
over the head, you gotta pay a settlement,
so take the money you would’ve paid
for a settlement and just put that
in the cops’ pockets, and they might care
a little more. At minimum,
just set up a snitch fund. Can we do that? Not–okay, don’t pay
every cop more, just the cops who snitch
on the other cops. That’s who you pay. A hundred thousand.
Hundred thousand per snitch. You got police departments
paying 200, 300 million a year. You put 100,000 per snitch–
I promise you, if you started giving cops
100,000 to snitch on other cops, they would be arresting
each other at roll call. Immediately. You wouldn’t
even make it out the police station
in the morning. Put your hands up, Sanchez. I saw what you did, Sanchez. I gotta get 100,000.
Shit, I need 200,000. Arrest me too, Sanchez. We got to go down. Put 100,000 on it. It’ll change everything,
I promise you. ‘Cause you ain’t gonna break
through that thin blue line just off of morals. Real cops don’t snitch
on other cops. Real cops stand tall. You ever notice all that
brotherhood, fraternity shit? It’s for jobs
where you’re underpaid and nobody appreciates you, so it’s cop and schoolteacher
and military. It’s firefighters–
it’s all these jobs where you do dope shit,
but no one respects you, so they’ve tricked you
into thinking that fraternity is a substitute for currency,
and it ain’t. Pay ’em.
Give ’em some money. ‘Cause here’s what happens. You start giving cops
more money to snitch on each other,
it’s a good-paying job. Anybody with a good-paying job
knows. You snitch immediately. Ain’t no brotherhood in a job
that pay you a real wage. People snitch left and right. You ever notice,
doctors don’t stick together. Doctors snitch on each other
in a heartbeat. Every year in this country,
somebody get the wrong leg chopped off, or the doctor
leave a butter knife inside you,
it ain’t a bunch of doctors in the emergency room
talking about, “Real doctors don’t snitch
on other doctors.” No!
That nigga chopped off the leg.