The only thing in our society that bothers me the most is the way that men and women don't get along no more. That’s really what's bugging me about it. Men and women just don't get along. Like I hear women say this all the time. I know a lot of you sisters be like:
"Chivalry is dead."
Don’t y'all feel that way? Like men aren't gentlemen anymore?
(Applause)
That's right: chivalry is dead.
And women killed it.
There's a fundamental difference in the way we're gonna see things. We're not gonna see eye to eye on this issue. We're just not. Our tests in life are different.
A woman’s test in life is material. A man’s test in life is a woman.
Now by test, I mean that those are the things that we desire. Men have nice cars-- not cause they like nice cars-- because they know women like nice cars.
That's how it goes. Cause men are hunters. And the car is the bait. And a woman comes up and says:
"Ooh, nice Porsche."
"Gotcha, bitch!"
That’s how it is.

That's true. come on now. You go to a woman's house, her house will be comfortable as shit. Women love comfortable surroundings, so men get comfortable surroundings.
Let me tell you something: if a man could fuck a woman in a cardboard box, he wouldn't buy a house.

But that’s still not where chivalry got killed. Chivalry got killed by the feminist movement on all them magazines that got women going crazy, because women got too much advice about men from other women. And they don't know what the fuck hey're talking about.

And it's true. I see the shit in the magazines. I don't read 'em, but I be seeing the cover. I look at-- you ever be in the grocery store, fellas, you look at one of them magazines like, "What is this?" And it say on the cover:
"A hundred ways to please your man" by... some lady.
Get outta here, man. come on.
Ain't no hundred ways. That list is four things long.
Just suck his dick, play with his balls, then fix him a sandwich and don't talk so much, and they're gon' be happy.
That's it.

And then the magazines trick the women. The magazines start picking at your self-esteem. Every page you turn, you start feeling fatter, and uglier, and you feel like your clothes aren't good enough.
And the magazines have you forgetting how fucking beautiful you are.
And that's what happens. Now look what happens.
And then you forget how beautiful you are, and we all suffer.
If pussy was a stock, it would be plummeting right now because you've flooded the market with it. You're giving it away too easy.
I'm just... being truthful.
I'm just talking.
It would plummet!
We'd be watching the news.
"Today, pussy plummeted again on the NASDAQ.
Gold is up ten points."

You can see it. You ever have this happen? This is how confusing it is. This is the practical application of what I'm talking about.
Like a guy will be out-- this happens a lot, guys-- you'll be at a club, a bar, right? You're just kicking it with your boys, and a girl walks by, and, man, she looks good. She looks good. Not good in that classical way.
I mean, you know, I'm talking good like, she got half her ass hanging out her skirt. Mm.
Her titties are all mashed together...
Popping out the top of her turtleneck and shit.
And you're with your buddies, right? You're with your buddies, you got a couple of drinks in you, and you see a girl, you might try to talk to her. It just might not come out right.
I don't know what you'd say to her:
"DAMN, look at them titties!"
The girl gets mad at you.
"Oh, uh-uhh. Oh, wait a minute. Wait a minute!
Just because I'm dressed this way, does NOT...
Make me a whore."
Which is true. Gentlemen, that is true. Just because they dress a certain way doesn't mean they are a certain way. Don't ever forget it.
But, ladies, you must understand that that is fucking confusing.
It just is.
Now that would be like me, Dave Chappelle the comedian, walking around the streets in a cop uniform.
Somebody might run up on me.
"Oh, thank God. Officer, help us. come on. They're over here. Help us!"
I'm not gonna be like:
"Oh! Just because I'm dressed this way does not make me a police officer."
You understand what I'm saying?
It's like, "All right, lady, fine, fine. You are not a whore.
But you are wearing a whore's uniform, I'll tell you that shit right now."

Little misunderstandings can happen. And then, man, we misunderstand women a lot. You know, we always undermine their feelings. You can't do that to them.
(Applause)
You can't because-- see, feelings are-- You see? They're clapping. Feelings are very important to women. They are all-important to women. I'm just learning this shit.
Everything is based on how they "feel".
You could hear it when they tell stories.
You ever tell-- when a man tells a story, it'd be just facts: who, what, when, where, why.
"It was me and Bob. We was at Safeway, then that n***a Bob said this. Then I punched that n***a, then I broke out." That's the story.
That's the story.
Women tell stories, and all these feelings come out--
"Well, first of all, you have to understand, I was on my period, and I had just talked to my mother, so I was feeling like--" Goddamn, so many feelings. What the fuck happened? Get to it. get to it.
But they gotta talk about 'em.
They gotta talk about 'em. That's how they always get me. I'll be sitting there, watching TV, chilling and shit. My old lady come up to me:
"David, we need to talk."
"FUCK!"
I don't say that out loud. That's how I feel inside. Because I know every time we need to talk, we need to talk about some shit that I gotta do. We don't ever have to talk about anything she needs to do.

She leaves me defenseless. I have to do what I have to do.
"David, we need to talk."
"Mah."
"Don't do that to me, David. This is serious. Stop talking in that voice."
"No, see!
I gotta do this, see!
Maaaah! Seeeee."

I complain, but I'm happy that I'm with somebody. I don't wanna be them-- I don't wanna be single. I don't like that.
Sometimes, you go to them single clubs, you see too much. See I was on the road, one club, and I seen-- I see a thing they call a "thong contest".
(Man: YES!)
Yeah, I've seen a thong contest.
(Man: SCANDALOUS)
Yeah, it's some scandalous shit, all right.
I couldn't get over that, man. Cause the DJ, you know, I was dancing with a girl, the DJ says:
"Everybody who wants to be in the thong contest, please report to the DJ booth."
Girls like, "Excuse me."
They put on that song, sounds-- "Let me see some THONG thong thong thong THONG thong thong." Them girls was going off!
Some of them pulling their pants down. Some of them pull their skirts up. All of them shaking their butts. Some of them didn't even have underwear on. They were just fucking shaking their butts.
I mean, really, I was fucking disgusted. But I couldn't turn away.
But no-- for the squeamish, please plug your ears.
All right. One of the girls gets so into it. There's no cops around, right? But she actually, I'm sorry to tell y'all this, she spreads her buttcheeks open. She spreads her buttcheeks open in the middle of a crowded disco. Right?
I was disgusted, cause I was like ten yards away from her and I was like, "Oh my, GOD.
Is that her-- is that her birth canal?"
Oh it gets worse.
I'm like, "Good God almighty, is that a-- is that a baby?!"
I know, that's gross. Cause it was a baby.
It was the same baby from the projects. He's like, "I snuck in the club, n***a!
I got that weed if you need me.
Just pat her on the ass and I'll come out.

All right, guys, thank you very much.
Thank you all.
Good night.
Good night, good night.