I tried to take the high road with the recent deaths of my got-damn co-stars, but there’s some rumors hitting the internet I think I best address. Rumor has it I'm gonna die as dead as Bernie Mac and Isaac Hayes. I'm in Hollywood, got-dammit; rumors become reality real got-damn quick.
Some motherfuckers out there have thrown me into the dead betting pool and are waiting for my black ass to drown. Well, I ain’t about to fucking die, so take your damn bets off the table before I hunt each and every one of you motherfuckers down and personally punch you in your face til you bleed from your asshole. That clear enough for you?
Like I said yesterday, my wife hooked me up with twenty different doctors in L.A., including her damn gynocologist who needs to be warming up his got-damn fingers. The only thing that’s likely to take Sam Jack down is if I Morgan Freeman my ass while driving around from doctor’s appointment to doctor’s appointment.
It ain't like Morgan and I are starring in some damn sequel to Final Destination, so back the fuck out my face.
According to my physical, I got the heart of an 18-year-old and the prostate of a got-damn gay porn star. My blood pressure's good, and I can still talk for twenty got-damn minutes without drawing in no breath so I got Quentin Tarantino-sized lungs.