See, black people are very afraid of the police. That is a big part of our culture. Don't matter how rich you are, how old you are... We're just afraid of 'em. We got--we got every reason to be afraid of 'em. You know what I mean? You a White lady. You ever been pulled over before? You know, and what do they say?
"Let me see your driver's license and your registration," right? See? See, I'm just guessing. That's not what they say to us. You wouldn't believe what they say to us, either.
"Spread open your cheeks and lift your sack." Like what the fuck?
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me. Spread open your cheeks and lift your sack."
I got a driver's license, too. There's easier ways to prove who I am and shit. What does that prove? I can't go to the bank like that; cash my check.
"What do you mean you don't have ID?"
"Wait a minute!"
"Oh, oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Chappelle. Right this way.
Why didn't you spread your cheeks in the beginning?"

Scared of 'em. I'm serious, man. You'll be at a red light, the police might pull up next to you. It on't be no big deal for you, but, you know, I'd fucking fall apart, though.
"Oh! Oh, n***a!
Oh, don't look over there. Unh-unh-unh."

But I didn't always know that was a black thing. It took me a while to figure that out. I learned--I learned that shit in New York. I was in New York City. Now I was hanging out with a friend of mine. He's a white guy, you know. We were just hanging out, and we were lost in the city. You know, we were smoking a joint. Now, I don't know if it was a coincidence that we were lost and high and shit, but... My white buddy-- he was smoking a joint.
"Dave, Dave. It's the goddamn cops.
I'm gonna ask him for directions."
I said, "Chip, no! Chip! Don't do it!"
It was too late. He was walking over there. This man was high as shit.
"Excuse me, sir." Touching him and shit.
"Excuse me!
I need some information."
Uh..." Start confessing things he shouldn't confess.
"I'm a little high. All I wanna know: which way is Third Street."
The cop was like, "Hey! TAKE IT EASY...
You're on Third Street.
You better be careful. Go ahead. move it.
MOVE IT!"
That's all that happened. That's the end of the story.

Now I know that's not amazing to some of you, but you ask one of these black fellas, that shit is fucking incredible, isn't it?
I'm saying a black man would never dream of talking to the police high. That's a waste of weed. I'm serious.
I mean I'd be scared to talking to the police when I'm sleepy. They'd fuck around and get the wrong idea.
(Thump)
"That nigger was on PCP, Johnson. I had to use necessary force! You saw him.
No, no, no paperwork, just... just sprinkle some crack on him. Let's get out of here."
That's how it is. But at the time, I didn't think there was anything racial about it. I was like, "Man, Chip. You got fucking lucky. You better be careful."

But then another time me and Chip were driving. Now I'm not driving. Chip is driving, and he's driving a little crazy. He's been drinking. Now I don't like to let my friends drive drunk, but, you know... I was smoking a joint. I could really say shit to the guy.

Then we get at a red light. We stopped at a red light, and a car pulls up next to us, and I'll never forget it. Chip looks at me, he's all drunk and he's like:
"Dave... I'm gonna race him."
I knew it was a bad idea. But I was high. I tried to explain to him it was a bad idea, but all that came out was:
"Well, n***a sometimes you gotta race. I don't know.

Man. That light turned green, and Chip took off. ig-zagging and shit so no one could pass him, the other car didn't know he was racing.

Then the police seen us and pulled us over. Now you gotta understand, I'm scared as shit. I mean, come on: the car smells like weed, we've been speeding, this man is fucking drunk.

I'm scared. Chip was not scared at all. It was weird. He didn't even turn his radio down. Isn't that weird a little bit?
I mean, if you get pulled over, wouldn't you turn your radio down? Nobody wants to get their ass beat to a soundtrack and shit. You know what I'm saying?
Chip had the music blasting: "We're not gonna take it."

Look over at him, he says:
"Dave, just relax. Close your buttcheeks! Just relax.
Let me do the talking."

You wanna know what he said? This was almost exactly what he said. I couldn't believe it. He says:
"Oh, oh. Sorry officer. I...
I didn't know I couldn't do that."

I was fucking shocked! The cop said, "Well now you know!
Just get outta here. Just get the fuck outta here!
Chip said, "Okay, I will, sir. Thank you.
What? What's wrong with you, Dave?"
"I didn't know I couldn't do that."
He said, "That was good, wasn't it?
Because I did know I couldn't do that."

I was shocked. I wasn't shocked at the audacity. I was just shocked because I would have never thought to say that. I don't think any black dude would think to say that. Because, they know we know the law. Every black dude in this room is a qualified paralegal and shit. He knows the law. If one of us even started to do something wrong, an old black man would pop out of nowhere:
"N***a, don't do that. That's five to ten.
Watch out."
We know the laws and the penalties. Chip didn't even know he could race.

I'm not saying I don't like police. I'm not saying that. I'm saying I'm just scared of 'em. Nothing wrong with that. Sometimes, we wanna call 'em, too. Somebody broke into my house once. This is a good time to call 'em, but I didn't. Mmm. Mm-mm. House is too nice. It ain't a real nice house, but they'll never believe I live in it.
They'll be--
"He's still here.
Oh my God.
Open and shut case, Johnson. I saw this once before when I was a rookie. Apparently this nigger broke in and hung up pictures of his family everywhere.
Well, let's sprinkle some crack on him and get outta here."

? say, "That's that whole brutality thing." See, that's common knowledge then. See there was a time when only minorities really knew about that. I'm not gonna say white people didn't believe us, but you were a little skeptical. You were a little skeptical. I mean, I don't blame you. And then "Newsweek" printed it, and he knew it was true.
In the "Newsweek," White people are like:
"Oh my God.
Honey, did you see this?
Apparently, the police have been beating up Negros like hotcakes.
It's in the main issue."

I mean, really, how could you know, though? How could anyone else know?
You know, I mean, maybe you should've seen something a little suspicious. Don't you think it was, like, a little suspicious? A little suspicious, that every dead black person the police finds has crack sprinkled on them? I mean, come on now.
Come on, man. Who gets shot and sprinkles crack on themselves? Nobody would do that.
Bam! "Oh! oh!
I don't wanna leave no mysteries."

I'm a paranoid guy, you know, that's how I am.
I am. I'm scared to call 9-1-1 for anything. Even if it's like a fire or anything. Cause they take those phone calls. I see the shows. They tape 'em. Then they play them on television. That's fucked up.
Now I'll say anything if I'm scared. That shit is private. You know what I mean?
What if I get killed? They start playing that 9-1-1 tape on the news, I'm dead, I can't explain myself to my buddies and shit.

You'll be watching the news.
"We have Reggie Chapman on the scene.
Reg...
What's going on out there?"

It always takes the guy on the scene a minute.
"Hi, Bob.
Hi. yes. We just got hold of a copy of Dave Chappelle's frantic 9-1-1 emergency call.
Remember, viewers, some of this language is disturbing."

"Hello. Emergency?"
"Help!
Help, motherfucker! They're coming to get me!"
"Just calm down, sir. Where are ya?"
"Oh, oh, I shit on myself.
I can't stop cryin'."

They play that shit 30, 40 times a day.
All my buddies will be at my funeral looking at me...
"You know Dave shit on himself, right?"
"I saw it on the news. Dude cried like a bitch"

I'll be dead, I can't defend myself. That's not a nice thing to do. That's not a nice thing to do. I mean, it's a 9-1-1 tape. How do they expect you to sound? Of course you gon' be scared. It's an emergency. There's, nobody calls 9-1-1 cool and relaxed. Now that shit would sound ridiculous, wouldn't it?
"Hello, emergency."
"Hi!"
Hey, 9-1-1. how are ya?
Yeah, uh, look, there's a group of hooded white men gathering outside of my house
And it looks like they mean business.
"GET OUT HERE NIGGER!"
"I gotta go.
You guys try and hurry."