Detroit lyrics

I don’t know if you ever saw on TMZ the big headline: “Dave Chappelle Drunk Onstage in Detroit.” Well, if you saw it, I wasn’t drunk. I had smoked some reefer… with some rappers. Yeah. I don’t know if you know anything about hanging out with rappers, but their weed is very strong, stronger than I what I was accustomed to. The article goes on to say I was booed offstage, which is also incorrect.

I was booed. I did not leave. It was a long bomb. It was a f*cking nightmare. Two puffs of weed, that’s all it was. Two puffs. I never had that happen, where I take two puffs of weed, I looked at the guy next to me, I was like, “I’m gonna bomb, n*gga. I can feel it.” And that guy called my name. “Dave Chappelle!” n*ggas was like… Normally, when you do a comedy show– you guys don’t know what it looks like up here, but n*ggas be just looking up at you like… That’s how the show started.

Didn’t take long for their faces to switch up like, “What the f*ck?” They started looking amongst themselves. So I knew I wasn’t doing good. I don’t remember what I was saying. It just took one person to break the ice. It was a black lady with a Ford Motor shirt on. Stood up suddenly. “f*ck you, Dave Chappelle!” I said, “Excuse me?” She said, “I worked all week for this sh*t, and this show sucks!” And in a weird act of racial harmony, a conservative white guy stood up and backed her up. “Yeah!” The whole crowd banded together and started chanting, “We want our money back! We want our money back!” I said, “Oh, sh*t.” I snapped out of it. “Good people of Detroit, hear me. Hear me now. You will never get your f*cking money back.” f*ck that. I said, “I’m like Evel Knievel. I get paid for the attempt. I didn’t promise this sh*t would be good.” “Boo!” They said, “f*ck you!”

This went on for a long time. And then, after the show, I felt so bad, I took half of the money from the show– thousands of dollars– I said, “I’m gonna give this to charity.” You know what I did? I bought $25,000 worth of bubble gum and drove around Detroit and handed it out to the homeless so they could chew it and still be hungry. I was very mad at Detroit that night. Because not only did I bomb, I had to go back to the very same room the next night and do it all over again. f*cking nightmare.

That would be like if you were having sex with a woman and, for some reason– this would never happen– but for some reason, she had a mousetrap in her pus*y. You get caught in the trap. And then you’ve got to f*ck her again tomorrow night. I’d still do it, but I’d be careful the next time. The old mousetrap-in-the-pus*y trick, eh? Fool me once. Yeah. Yeah, it was a tough time. And I wanted to give up sometimes. I almost did give up, but then, right before I gave up, I decided not to. But I made the call. They answered the phone. “Hello? Dancing with the Stars.” I said, “Not yet. Not yet.” Yeah. If you see me on that sh*t, it’s over. Trust me. My spirit is broken. If you see me waiting for them judges… getting critiqued on my cha-cha, f*ck that.